Moving House - need a buyer

What's wrong with my house? I had 3 people round in the first week and then nothing at all. This week I have reduced the price and still noone is interested. Did all the estate agents lie to me just to get me to sign up with them? They all said that given the location they could sell it very quickly. Bastards. To make matters even worse my lovely dream house has just been taken off the market. I'm gutted.

I seem to have developed an unhealthy addiction for looking at other peoples houses. I spend every spare moment on sites like Rightmove reading and re-reading the brochures of the houses that I would like to go and see. No time for housework - and what is the point if I can't even get anyone through the front door.

Moving House - On your Marks...Get set....

I spent the whole weekend looking at houses and have seen some really lovely homes. Our last stop was a last minute addition that I wasn't even sure fitted my requirements. Wow! It was the most beautiful house I have ever seen (in that price bracket). It was perfect. Lots of people are already interested and I just have to pray that I can sell my house before any of the others can get their filthy mitts onto it. Or a lottery win right now would be good.

Yesterday, I hurriedly signed with another agent and so now my home is officially up for sale. Please somebody could you buy it before I lose my dream. As for Bairstow Eves I think I have had the luckiest escape. Almost everyone I meet has a horror story to tell about them.

So now I'm just waiting for the whistle and I'm ready to Go.

Moving House - still on the starting block

Well I had a few valuations over the weekend and decided that Bairstow Eves had been the most professional estate agent by far. I agreed that they should go ahead and sell my house as soon as a) I had signed the contract, b) I had approved the photos/brochure and c) most definately not before this weekend. On Wednesday I received an email from a property website telling me of all the new properties added that day (I am closely watching the competition). The new house looked very familiar and that was because it was mine! The unapproved photos made it look really horrible. Bairstow Eves have now removed the offending property and will not be selling my house anytime soon. Whose next? I'll decide over the weekend.

On Saturday we are going to stay in a B&B in my new hometown and I've made appointments to see 12 houses so by next week I should have a better idea of what it is exactly that I'm looking for. I have already fallen out of love with last week's dreamboat (yes I am fickle), my new favourite has a room big enough to fit a snooker table - a lifelong dream - and it also has a pretty garden and conservatory. The downside is that it is a long walk from the train station, quite an issue because by moving there my train journey to work will increase by an hour each day.

Moving House - the beginning

Can't believe it's been 2 weeks since I found time to write anything. I'm still in love with a house and hopefully I will get to meet it next weekend. In the meantime I have been busy painting and de-cluttering and now my little tardis doesn't seem quite so bad. Good news is that I dont have to fork out for a HIPS package anymore but I do have to get an energy certificate which is probably not going to be very helpful.

To decide which estate agent to use I sent a blanket email to 10 local ones with some questions about fees etc. In my message I wrote "PLEASE REPLY BY EMAIL" in capitals. Three of them telephoned anyway, one replied but didnt give any indication of which estate agent they represented and one didnt reply at all. Five left. Of all the answers I got, and to my surprise it was Bairstow Eves that gave me the most informative reply. The next day they even hand delivered a welcome package with lots of useful selling information. So far I'm very impressed with them but at the end of the day I expect I'll chose the one that values my house the highest. Of the rest I have chosen the new kid on the block with a very low fee and free energy pack as well as the one that is closest to my house.

So, by Tuesday I will have had 3 valuations and made my choice, my dear little tardis will finally be up for sale. The following weekend we are going to stay in a B&B in my new hometown and view as many properties as possible including my beloved. Then we will just have to wait and hope and try not to get too many grey hairs.

Travellers Tales - Masai Mara Game Park

I was on a camping safari somewhere in the middle of the Masai Mara game park. In the middle of the night I was really desperate to pee and crept out of my tent into the silent night. After seeing a big buffalo grazing by the toilet at teatime I was reluctant to go very far and settled on the row of bushes behind our tents. I squatted down and suddenly realised I needed to fart. Trying to prevent it was useless and what resulted was a series of short loud bursts that resounded long into the night.

The next morning we all sat around the campfire at breakfast when somebody asked "Did anyone hear the animal that was snuffling around our tents last night?". Everyone wondered what kind of beast it might have been while I blushed and said nothing.

I have fallen in love...

...with a house. Unfortunately I don't have the money to buy it so I am going to have to sell my little house first. Who in their right mind will buy it? The more I look around the more things I notice that need urgent attention and I'm terrified that the estate agent will describe it as "in desperate need of updating". Before I get a valuation I think I'd better get someone round to fix the hole in the roof. Last weekend I painted the downtairs loo and had every intention of doing some more painting this weekend. Before I could get started, bright and early on Saturday morning, I somehow managed to put my back out again and have spent the entire weekend shuffling around like the hunchback of notre dame with a hot water bottle tied to my back.

Little bleeder bit me

Yesterday as I walked home from the shop I saw a big mean cat chasing a baby squirrel. The poor little thing was pinned up against the wall screaming in terror. I tried to chase the cat away but it wasn't going anywhere and so I tried to move the squirrel instead. By the time I realised there was no safe place for the poor little thing to hide it had sunk it's teeth into my thumb. I let go and it ran a little way still screaming, the big nasty cat following not far behind. It is nature and there really wasn't anything I could have done to save it but I was still quite traumatised by the time I got home. I do hope that baby squirrel somehow managed to get away.

My boyfriend thought I was quite insane, saying that squirrels were like rats and that I most probably now have rabies. We spent a nice day at the seaside with his parents who also thought I was an idiot and eventually they all persuaded me to go to the walk-in centre on the way home. The nurse on duty said that squirrels are herbivores and therefore it would have been far more serious if I had been bitten by the cat. (My two are always biting me - playfully of course). She gave me a tetanus jab which was long overdue and now my arm aches and I can't sleep on that side.

School reunions

When I was 13 I was a member of a girl gang. We used to "own" a bench in the playground and non-gang members were not allowed to sit there. There were always squabbles and power struggles going on and you daren't take a day off sick in case you had been talked about and found guilty of some imagined crime while you were away. Fickle as we were it wouldn't take long before you were once again everyone's best friend and another girl had been singled out for some bitchiness. By the time I left school the gang had disbanded and we all hated each other.

Last year on facebook I was contacted by one of the girls and eventually four of us met for a reunion. None of us had seen each other since school and none of us remembers how exactly we all fell out but the strangest thing was that after 30 odd years we all fell into our roles as if we were 13 only yesterday. Tracy the chatty flirty one, Mandy the giggler who all the boys used to fancy (and still do), Sharon the sensible one (she was driving that night) and me the lanky shy one. We had such a good time that it has now become a regular girls night out. Last night was great fun - roll on the next one!

Blurred Vision

This morning as usual I fumbled for my glasses and put them on. Everything was blurred. Perhaps they were steamed up or dirty? Oh No, the reason everything was blurred is because last night I forgot to take out my contact lenses.

Eyes wide shut

Last night we girls were celebrating the last one of us to reach their 40th birthday. Our conversations are no longer about boys and parties - instead hot flushes and wrinkles. We have known each other for over 15 years, from the days when the city was actually a really fun place to work. Reminiscing about the good old days of singledom I have to mention one particular work do.

Anne had been flirting with a guy in the office for some time. This night, after several gin and tonics she had got him in her sights. There she was, sitting on his lap and snogging him in the middle of the nightclub in full view of everyone else.

The next day at the office she really couldn't understand how it was that she was the main topic of conversation. "I didnt think anyone could see me" she said, "I had my eyes shut"!

Travellers Tales - more about India

Last night I met up with Helen and reminded her of our trip to India. She remembered that I was very ill most of the time. In fact, wherever we stopped, her first mission was to hail a rickshaw and set off into the twilight searching for a doctor, a chemist or someone/something to keep me alive a little longer. It has prompted me to write what I remember of the rest of that holiday....

I think it was in Udaipur that I first got sick. Before then I had been in my element eating curry for breakfast dinner and tea. We had got into the habit of venturing out to do some sightseeing in the mornings and then getting so worn down by the hustle and hassle of India that by lunchtime we would escape into the peaceful grounds of the nearest plush hotel. We were having a meal in a posh restaurant but from the kitchen I could hear sounds of coughing and plegmy clearing of throats and from that moment on I lost my appetite completely. We were booked on an overnight train and I can honestly say that it was probably the worst journey of my life. You could smell the toilet, a hole in the ground, long before you got there and so not only did I have chronic diarrhoea but acute gagging and sickness. Eventually we got to our destination, the Kipling camp, a beautiful haven in the middle of nowhere and I began to feel better. The Kipling camp had its very own pet elephant, a famous one called Tara, and we spent a lovely afternoon bathing and swimming with her in a muddy watering hole. There we were also able to go on a safari aboard some elephants in search of tigers. A few days before had been one of the worst days of my life and now this was to be one of the best. Sitting on top of an elephant observing tigers only a few feet away was brilliant, although I have to say a little scary. The tiger has always been my favourite animal and here I was close enough to be mauled by one!

I don't remember much more about that holiday except that at the Taj Mahal, I was more concerned with finding a toilet than marvelling at this wonder of the world. Similarly in Goa I don't think I left my room for more than a few minutes. I remember taking a taxi somewhere, I think we had a train to catch and were in a hurry. The driver was a maniac and as we drove around some steep cliff edges, afraid for our lives we were torn between telling him to hurry up and to slow down.

Finally, we arrived home and found that out luggage had not arrived with us. This turned out to be good news as the airline would deliver it for us the next day and we wouldn't have to lug it across London with us. Tired, sunburnt and about a stone lighter I'm still not sure if this was the best or the worst holiday of my life!

Travellers tales - Delhi

Watching masterchef tonight reminded me of my own trip to India about 15 years ago. Apart from the first 24 hours and a severe case of dysentry I had an excellent time. Here is what I wrote about Delhi back then....


We had been warned about the dangers of arriving in Delhi in the middle of the night, but we were experienced independent travellers and we knew how to take care of ourselves. Feeling smug we made our way to a desk at the airport and booked into a reasonably priced hotel for the night. Having heard a few horror stories about taking taxis from the airport, we climbed into a pre-paid taxi and set off into the mayhem that is Delhi.

At first the taxi driver was very friendly, asking us where we were from and whether it was our first visit to India. Without thinking, I told him that it was the first time I had ever been to Delhi. Immediately realising my mistake my companion, Helen, quickly explained that she, however, had been to Delhi many times. Before long we came to a road block. The taxi driver told us that all the roads leading to our hotel had been cordoned off because there was a “military rally” due to take place in the morning. “Big Hindu-Muslim problem here” he said. Our guide books had warned us that this is a scam used by many of the taxi drivers. They have many devious ways of persuading their passengers to go to a different hotel than the one that they have booked, these hotels will pay the driver a commission for bringing in new guests. We told the taxi driver that we didn’t believe him and could he please try to find another route to our hotel. After that we drove around for about an hour, occasionally coming across another road block (or was it the same one?). Each time we stopped, the taxi driver would suggest that he take us to a good hotel he knows “velly cheap”.

By now we were feeling frustrated and angry and a little bit frightened. We started to argue with the driver and he stopped the car, indicating that we should get out. Not keen on the idea of being left by the roadside in the dark, we refused to get out of the car. Eventually after more arguments with a driver who had suddenly forgotten how to speak English, we persuaded him to take us to a tourist office.

We arrived at a small office that looked nothing like any tourist office I have ever seen, and one that was open in the early hours of the morning. Dubiously, Helen followed the driver inside while I guarded our luggage in the taxi. The man in the office telephoned our hotel (or so he said) and was informed that there were no bookings in our name. However, he could recommend another very good hotel, “velly cheap”. Tired and irritable and ready to pay anything to get some sleep, we told the driver to please just take us to the nearest reasonably priced hotel. Of course the hotel he took us to was dark and dingy. The reception desk was covered in grime and there was a nauseating smell of cabbages. For the pleasure of sleeping here they wanted to charge us $60 which was far too much for our budget. Fortunately, across the road we spotted a four star hotel. We had already paid for the taxi but the driver still wanted more money. We picked up our bags and marched across the road to the sound of the taxi driver’s shouted insults, hoping and praying that we wouldn‘t be turned away. The hotel was able to give us a room for $18, still expensive by Indian standards, but we no longer cared. At least there was hot water and a proper toilet. Exhausted we fell into our beds.

After a restless night on hard mattresses we decided our first priority was to go and find a better hotel. We studied our map and realised we had no idea where we were in relation to the centre of Delhi. We couldn’t find our hotel, the Royal Palace, on the map but we did find a nearby hotel, it was called the Yatri. We decided to use this as our landmark in case we got lost. Feeling much happier, we hailed an auto-rickshaw and instructed him to take us to the main bazaar. Still tired we half heartedly looked at a few run down hotels amidst the noisy bustle of the market and decided that perhaps we ought to remain at the Royal Palace after all. We were still very tired and after a while the endless hassle of the market traders wanting us to buy something from them became too much to bear and we hailed a rickshaw to take us back to the Yatri Hotel. We travelled for quite a while, enjoying the sights until finally we stopped at a the Yatri Hotel, only it was a different one to the one we had left earlier. With sinking hearts we realised that we didn’t know how to find our hotel and our luggage. Feeling foolish, we took another rickshaw to the main tourist office in New Delhi. At least it was a proper tourist office this time and surely they would help us. The man on duty found our hotel, the Royal Palace, on the map and telephoned them. They told him that yes indeed we were registered with them and it was with great relief that we piled into another rickshaw and were on our way. Our happiness was very short lived because when we got to the hotel we saw that it wasn’t our Royal Palace either. By now we were really beginning to panic. We went into the hotel and the staff must have taken pity on us because they were very helpful, even though they found the whole episode highly amusing. They managed to find four other hotels in Delhi called the Royal Palace. They rang each of them for us and fortunately the second one they called was able to give the receptionist our names so at last we knew we had found the right one. Eternally grateful, we waved goodbye and made our way to what must have been the poorest part of Delhi. There was the hotel Yatri, and then at last THE Royal Palace. We collected our luggage and set off to the railway station, intent on getting the first train out of this horrible place.

Once we had booked ourselves onto the overnight train to Pushkar and left our luggage in a locker we began to relax at last. We would spend the afternoon sightseeing, surely nothing else could happen to us today - could it? We went to visit the Red Fort and had a lovely, peaceful afternoon walking around the old town, and were beginning to enjoy our first day in this fascinating country.

On the way back to the station, we decided to catch a cycle-rickshaw. We sat on the seat at the back and let the old man with the missing teeth do all the hard work. It was interesting, moving slowly through the back streets, observing the Indian population going about their daily chores. All of a sudden we bumped into the cycle in front, forcing me to cut my knee on the jagged saddle frame, while Helen fell forward into the road. Amused, we settled back into the uncomfortable seat to continue our journey. The two cyclists had by this time engaged in a very heated argument. Suddenly the other cyclist reached over and punched our man. After a few more obscenities, the other cyclist stopped his bike in the middle of the road and came over to us. A vicious street brawl began., our driver at a disadvantage because he was still sat astride his bicycle. Fortunately a burly man stepped in to break it up before any blood was spilled, but I can certainly understand now why our driver had a few teeth missing. We realised we had drawn quite an audience which quickly dispersed when it became clear the show was over.

Shortly afterwards we turned out of the narrow side street and into a very busy one-way system, only we were going in the wrong direction. All kinds of transport was suddenly bearing down on us, cars, rickshaws, bicycles, camels, cows, buses and people pushing carts, all tooting and shouting and making rude gestures at us. To this day I still cannot believe we weren’t killed. At last a policeman called us to the side of the road and another argument ensued. This resulted in the policemen producing a large stick and beating our driver with it severely. Unbelievably, throughout everything, we sat in the back looking on in amazement.

Eventually we arrived back at the railway station in one piece, our luggage had not been stolen and we waited impatiently for the train to take us away from Delhi, looking back and laughing now that the danger had passed.

Poker face

I never thought it would be so hard to find something interesting or funny to write about on a regular basis. Has my life become that middle-aged and boring? I've had a brilliant break over Easter but all I really did was watch DVDs whilst lounging around in my pyjamas and stuffing my face with cheese and drambuie. Heaven. I really am going to start a new diet soon, otherwise I'll have to get my "fat" clothes back down from the loft.

On Saturday night we held a poker night and as the only woman there I gave a very good account of myself and managed to win about £20. My poker face is quite simple - I just look like a dumb blonde who is 3 sheets to the wind - works every time!

Back to the shit-hole tomorrow unless (please please) the train strike is still going ahead. We are still a man down whilst trying to cope with the extra work that has been piled on us lately and at the busiest time of the year. We are doing our best but the workload keeps on piling higher and higher. We have voiced our concerns to management but they are all deaf so I don't suppose anything will be done until the first customer complaint comes in. Then I guess some heads will roll and I don't particularly care if one of them is mine!

Masterchef?

I love watching masterchef but I could never go on the show. They would absolutely hate my cooking because I like my meat to be over cooked (burnt) rather than still bleeding. Also I loathe tomatoes (although I do like tomato soup, heinz beans and pizza topping) and yet tomatoes seem to be required in every dish. In fact there are not many vegetables that I will eat so my menus would be very limited in the judges eyes. Having said that the only A+ I ever got at school was from the cookery teacher!

Trying to choose a restaurant for a meal out is a nightmare these days as they all insist on adding aubergine or spinach into otherwise tasty sounding dishes. I love fish pies so why do they always have to spoil them by adding broccoli or something equally horrid? Finding a sandwich or meal without tomatoes, cucumber, celery or leeks is almost impossible. I shouldn't complain - my sister is a vegan and on holiday in Europe the poor girl can never find anything to eat besides salad and chips.

My boyfriend is a fully trained chef so I have always felt a bit awkward cooking for him. The first time I ever made him lunch was just a simple baguette. He took one bite into it and out came his tooth - how embarrassing! That was 10 years ago so I think I got away with it.

A fortune lost!

I have been doing the scoop 6 on the horses lately as the odds somehow seem better than winning the lottery. You have to pick all six race winners to win the jackpot and this weekend was a rollover with £534,520 up for grabs. Well I am absolutely devastated because five of my horses came in first place and the other horse only just got beaten into second place by way of a photo finish. How unlucky is that? The £68 share I won in the place pot is little compensation. Gutted!

Pudding bowl haircuts

Went to see mum on Sunday and it turned out that my sister and I had both given her the same Mother's day card which said "Hand's up if your mum thinks she's a hairdresser" and had a picture of a cute little girl with the same awful haircut that we wore until we were old enough to get Saturday jobs and pay to go to the hairdresser ourselves.

Mum would put a plastic bowl over our heads every so often and trim around the edges leaving us with a very un-attractive pudding bowl haircut. That was bad but things got far worse when someone suggested she could achieve the same result using selotape. Of course mum with the scissors was never particularly accurate and so instead of the straight line around the bowl we got very crooked and very short fringes where after each attempt she cut away more of the selotape as well as our hair.

When our hair got too long she would put them in bunches, the parting always slightly wonky and I can still feel the excruciating pain at bed time when those cheap elastic bands were ripped from our hair like plasters.

Jumper on the line?

Once again my train was delayed tonight by "a person being hit by a train". What is the matter with these people? Any sympathy I might have had is swept away by their complete disregard for the thousands of people whose evenings they seem intent on spoiling. Why do they always chose to "jump" during rush hour?

You have got to hand it to BR though. Despite their lack of communication about which train is departing next, the subsequent chaos, the crowded concourse and the sardine packed carriages, I have to admit that they have got this particular situation covered. Nowadays they can clear the line of any debris very quickly incurring only a 29 minutes delay (they would have to fork out compensation vouchers if it was over 30 minutes). Tonight they slipped up and my delay was about 40 minutes. A valid claim is already in the post.

A long week

This week has been tough, the first full week since having 2 weeks off. Work has been busy but nothing of note has happened and I just feel very tired.

Sometimes, walking to and from work I get the sense that I am invisible. People seem to walk into me constantly and barge past me as if I'm not there. Well on Tuesday a very well dressed but rude man stubbed his expensive coat out on my cigarette as he pushed me out of the way. I hope he burned a hole in it.

On Friday morning I woke up early and in my semi-conscious state I thought it was Saturday. Such a lovely feeling knowing that I could turn over and go back to sleep. But then, slowly the horrible realisation crept in that it was Friday and just to confirm my worst fears the alarm clock blared out loudly.

Bump - down to earth

The prawn lady (my mother) came to catsit while I was away. Although they were spoiled as only a grandmother without any real grandchildren can spoil a cat I think they missed me. All night long one or other or both of them would jump up onto the bed and stomp all over me, purring into my face and demanding some more affection. So it was that I arrived at work sporting two heavy black suitcases under my eyes, an ugly red scratch wound across my nose and a tan that is slowly turning into a blotchy smudgy dirt colour.

"You look well" everyone says pretending not to notice "where've you been?" and then the obligatory Agadoo tune follows.

By about 11am I finish sorting through my emails and realise there is lots of work to be done. By 4pm I am still working flat out and wondering what can be left till Monday. By 5.05pm I am fighting my way through the commuters and onto the train while at the same time wondering if I have even been away at all.

Scar Face

The blind cat has done it again! Glad to be back in my nice comfy bed after the long journey home from Agadir I was awakened by the cat jumping up onto the bed. This time he landed on my face and his claw made a scratch across my nose. It didn't hurt much but there seemed to be a lot of blood so I sleepily reached for a tissue, mopped it up as best I could and went back to sleep.

This morning when I looked in the mirror I was horrified to see that my lovely tanned face has been mutilated. Two days ago my nose was a bright shiny red beacon that Rudolph would have been proud of but that I couldn't bear to look at. Now that it has finally stopped peeling and turned a lovely shade of tan it is completely ruined by the ugly red scratch across the top.

Agadoo

I've just got back from a week in Agadir, Morocco. Strange how every time I mention it someone starts humming the words to Agadoo. I did hear that song every night at the mini disco but my boyfriend said I couldn't join in even though I was wearing a mini skirt and anyway I would have felt a bit too tall.

Usually, all-inclusive hotels follow the same sort of pattern. An intrusive animation team that try to get you involved in everything from aqua aerobics to bingo, the same team staging rediculous cabaret shows in the evening followed by dancing to music that you can only contemplate when you are completely drunk on free beer. The food is usually barely edible, the same dishes being served up every day or added to something else and served up again the next day. NOT THIS TIME! The animation team were all really friendly but not pushy. The food was excellent, freshly barbecued in front of you with a wide choice of salads and delicious cakes. The snack bar by the pool made fantastic pizzas. The evening entertainment may or not have been any good, I really dont know because it was all done in French. Almost all the other guests were French and we only met one other English couple the whole week. Quite a nice change if I'm honest.

Really liked Morocco. The people were friendly but without pestering us as has happened in Egypt and Gambia. We felt safe to go for our long walks and for once I didnt even trip and sprain my ankle. Agadir only gets a cursury mention in most travel guides but I really liked it. Yes there are the tourist hotels at one end along the beach but if you walk into the town, the souk or the fishing port you can get a really good sense of the Moroccan way of life. We didnt get around to any of the many excursions so Marrakesh will have to wait till another time.

The weather forecast was completely wrong thank goodness. Rain had been forecast for the whole week but by the second day the sun came out and we got really sunburnt. Happy with that one day we didn't mind that it rained for the next two days - our frazzled skins could not have endured any more sun at that point. The next day the sun came back with a vengeance and got hotter every day.

A very enjoyable and relaxing holiday - exactly what I needed!

Cat-astrophe

The cats have got to go for their annual checkup on Friday. This has to be planned with military precision because they somehow always seem to know. First you have to lock the cat-flap without them noticing because if they get outside there is no hope of ever catching them. You will have already closed off all the bedrooms as it is almost impossible to coax them out from under the bed unless you have the assistance of some strong muscle to lift it. Once you have caught the cat you then have to endure the scratches and struggles as you transfer it into the cat box. With mission accomplished and with a hard heart you have to try and ignore the pitiful mewing as you drive to the vets.

Strangely, once the cat is up on the vets table it is transformed into an obedient puppy. No mewing, no struggling and the vet is allowed to prod and probe with no fuss at all. The worm tablet goes down a treat without the resistance I get when I try to do it at home. For the rest of the day I am the evil one, no matter how much I bribe them with treats, and then suddenly all is forgotton until next year.

Last year while driving to the vets I kept getting honked by a lorry behind me. I was driving slowly and carefully because of the cats so what on earth could I have done to upset him? He started flashing his lights and so I pulled over and waited anxiously, expecting to experience road rage for the first time. He pulled up alongside me and was laughing and pointing to the roof of my car - I had only been driving with my purse on the roof for the last 3 km (thank goodness it wasn't one of the cats!).

Spa Faux Pas

The first time my sister and I went to a health spa we were given a pair of green plastic shoe coverings on the way into the changing rooms. For some reason, and with noone to tell us otherwise we put them over our feet, donned our cozzies and set off for the jacuzzi. Strange, nobody else was wearing anything on their feet. It was then that we realised they must have been for putting over your shoes in the locker room - how rediculous we must have looked and how embarrassing. We are going back this week - hope we are not recognised!

How the City has changed

We were having a discussion yesterday about how few Japanese Banks are left in the City. It reminded me of my very first day at work in the big city of London. In those days more than half the staff were Japanese and the cockney lady I was to be working with soon took me around to meet everyone. I felt like a giant, towering over every single one of the Japanese staff who bowed and smiled and bowed some more whilst having great difficulty pronouncing my name. My first day was also the first day of the new year and promptly at 11am we were all invited for drinks in the director's offices to celebrate. Afterwards we all went across the road to the pub. Excellent. My drinking career had began.

Back then people used to smoke at their desks and each ashtray was jammed full of cigarette butts. There were few computers which were linked to a huge main computer that filled a freezing cold room and was cared for by a man named Dennis. Everything had to be entered into the computer twice so that any typing errors could be picked up and all the computer reports were on thick reams of green lined paper that often got jammed in the printer. All the books were balanced manually in thick ledgers and people communicated by telephone, fax, telex or (perish the thought) by post. The hours were 9 to 5 and we had punch cards to sign in and out. There was always a queue at 5.14 as people waited for the clock to turn 5:15 because overtime was paid for each 15 minutes of extra time.

You didn't need a degree to get a job. Instead you started by making the teas and if you showed any initiative you would be able to work your way up, learning all aspects of the business along the way. In the peak of the eighties, most lunchtimes were spent in the pub being wooed by "loadsamoney" traders who thought nothing of buying champagne all round. These were the same guys who had started out making teas and shining shoes for their predecessors. Big bonuses, big mortgage subsidies, interest free season ticket loans, pension plans, offices parties........I'm feeling a bit nostalgic tonight.

Bruised again!

In the early hours of this morning I was awakened by a sharp, piercing pain in my left arm. The blind (and very fat) cat had mis-judged his jump up onto the bed and instead his claw had sunk deep into my arm. There he hung, dangling from my arm, his feet not quite reaching the floor until I was able to extract him - both of us quite traumatised by the event. Boy did it hurt and now my arm is riddled with puncture holes and bruises and my eyes are all puffy from lack of sleep.

Talking of bruises I have had a massive bruise on my left shin since before Christmas. I really don't know how it got there but it is obviously something I must be doing regularly for it to still be there in February. Wierd.

It's true that I have always bruised very easily - not good news for someone as accident prone as me. My poor mother spent my whole childhood worrying that the social services would come and take me away.

Coffee making tip

When making instant coffee it is always a good idea to ensure your mug is not upside down before you try to put in the coffee and sugar, otherwise you will end up with a sticky mess all over the counter. I know because I just did it.

What shall I do?

My positive, happy new outlook on life lasted right up until 9.01am this morning when once again I was back at my desk, realising what a shit hole I have work in. From then on my day just got worse and worse until battling against the umbrella brigade going home I took a detour into Tescos and bought myself a bottle of Drambuie. Now there is nice a drink to cheer a girl up - and sod the diet we'll start again on Monday.

There must be another way to earn a living - why can't I think of one? I can't sing or dance, I'm not sporty and Stephen King has already stolen my idea for a novel. I have some brilliant property development/design ideas but I'm too hopeless at DIY - my shelves are all wonky and I can barely change a lightbulb. I'm too old and saggy to be an "escort" and I'm far too soft and honest to resort to a life of crime. It doesnt seem likely that I'm going to win the lottery anytime soon so I am going to have to think of something else before the senility sets in earlier than expected. What shall I do?

Ladies who lunch

I took a day off work today and had lunch with the girls. We have known each other for almost 30 years so we always have a good giggle about times gone by, our eighties shoulderpads and solid hairspray flicks, our dreadful choices of ex-boyfriends and the qualities good and bad of the ones we have now. A lovely meal, a few glasses of wine, the sun shining and life begins to look much brighter. Just what I needed - even my cold has finally disappeared. I will go to the office tomorrow with a positive attitude and try not to let the idiot boss wind me up anymore.

One such story that I was reminded of is when we were at college and I had a crush on a boy called Darren. I had it so bad that I would blush beetroot if he ever entered the same room. I don't think we ever actually had a conversation but I did manage to steal a kiss one Christmas. Anyway, this particular day my friend and I were zig-zagging across campus playing aeroplanes, running really fast with our arms outstretched. Suddenly I tripped and literally flew through the air - a very smooth landing flat onto my face. Jeers and laughter erupted from a nearby classroom where Darren and his friends were all leaning out of the window. I was mortified and scurried away, bruised and bleeding to regain what was left of my dignity. Maybe at 17 we were too old to have been playing aeroplanes and I have certainly never played it since!

Head Bangers

In a very weak moment of my diet I remembered the naughty bin, where my skinny boyfriend keeps a bucket full of crisps, sweets, biscuits and very fattening things that I should steer clear from. In my haste to get there I head butted the corner of the TV that juts out from the wall overhead. Owwwww, it really hurt and I've got a huge lump on my forehead - Elephant woman not Big Bird - and I think I have knocked myself silly(er). This is not the first time. A few months ago I head butted the bathroom wall-light as I leant forward to put my contact lense in.

My cat is also a head banger. He is almost blind but most of the time he knows his way round the house and garden. The trouble is, if there's a loud bang (like me headbanging something) or a knock on the door he gets frightened and forgets everything. He then runs around madly head-butting everything he contacts until finally he comes to the doorway and makes his escape. Ahhhh, bless him - has anyone invented crash helmets for cats?

Perfume Shock

A very strange thing happened yesterday. A girl at work had just bought a new perfume and offered her wrist for me to smell it. As I sniffed I got a massive electric shock in my nose and she got a shock on her wrist. Was it the perfume? Wierd. Did she go out on the pull that night and if so did the sparks fly? Can't wait to find out on Monday.

Found Drowned

To take my mind off another shitty day at work I poured myself a very large brandy and settled down to do some more family history research.

In 1849 the headline of one newspaper shouts "Sad Effects of Intoxication" and goes on to say that my poor 3xgreat grandfather Benjamin Mason had spent the evening in the pub and "was so much the worse for liquor that he fell down. He afterwards got up and was altogether lost sight of". Much later at about 1.00am during a particularly thundery night at the docks a cry was heard. The PC on duty was unable to find a boat and so the body of poor Benjamin was not found until 6.00am. Cause of death "Found Drowned".

He is not the only one. In 1857 my 2xgreat grandfather Abednego Seabrook, a lock keeper was also "found drowned" and in 1854 my 4xgreat grandfather Frederick Wood was "found drowned and afterwards dead". I wonder if they too were intoxicated?

It could have happened to me. On holiday, after a night out and keen to get to the bar in time for last orders, I marched across the hotel patio when suddenly I found myself walking in thin air. I had completely forgotton there was a swimming pool on the terrace. Luckily I fell into the shallow end and managed to climb out safely. I made it to last orders and stood shivering in a pool of water while everyone laughed and pointed at me.

2010 Sucks

I woke up on new years day with a sore throat which progressed into a very bad cold which still hasn't gone away. My computer also got a bad virus and kept on telling me the only way to fix it would be to buy some expensive anti-virus software, then sending me off to a porno website. I have been totally lost without the internet. At work I'm still doing two jobs and it has been a nightmare getting there because of the train services and the icy footpaths. It's actually colder inside the office in our little corner of purgatory. Our boss is being a complete prat as usual, and has agreed to take on more work without even consulting those of us who will have to pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong. Our reservations and suggestions have fallen on deaf ears so we are just waiting for the shit to hit the fan when it transpires that all our points were valid. I expect he will find a way to wriggle out of it as usual and come up smelling of roses - or his foul, overpowering aftershave. I have put on half a stone over Christmas and my clothes are bursting at the seams so I am grumpy and starving as the diet started today.

On a lighter note, I built a really cool snow cat on Sunday. His head has fallen off now but for a few hours he was king of the garden.