Village Gossip

2007-07-15T21:37:00.000+01:00

Elusiveness
Sorry guys... the blog thing is all well and good but it's so far removed from the real world in that dialogue is one way - everyone knows what I am up to but I lose out on the art of conversation when my real live pals say "I know, I read it". So... after going underground for a wee while I got embroiled in the realms of Facebook.com

Facebook, as it's described is a "social utility that connects people with friends and others who work, study and live around them. People use Facebook to keep up with friends, upload an unlimited number of photos, share links and videos, and learn more about the people they meet".
So - I am addicted. Have found old school pals who are now city headhunters, writing scripts for Coronation Street, got married, had kids and other ridiculously exciting things - and you know what - we can T-A-L-K, like real, two way conversation and it is b-l-i-s-s.........

2007-07-01T21:19:00.000+01:00

GMG Girls Race for Life

Well - the grand day arrived and we did it AND we ALL ran all the way which, even though it was only 5km, was a huge achievement considering I couldn't even get to the parlour round the corner when we first began training. Quite ironic to consider how cross I was at the "runners" who began walking a km or so in meaning we had to dodge them - I think we must have run an extra 5km in the chicaning around them! The atmosphere was amazing as was the weather which went from incessant monsoon rain which has been hitting the UK for the past fortnight to sunshine half an hour before the race began - before starting up again perfectly timed just as we entered the last kimometre... the bullet like rain drops sure spurred us on as they almost took our eyes out!

After Pic! Thank you Shell... couldn't have done it without you... here's to 2008 one! I'll be up there at the front tho next time!

2007-06-28T22:01:00.000+01:00

Stalk Book...
It's still just fabulous.....!!!

2007-06-18T21:58:00.000+01:00

Found this and just had to post.... Big Brother is so watching us. As are all our added friends in the feeds that come through every morning! The one downside of Stalk Book

2007-06-01T07:21:00.000+01:00

The Annual Cotswold Olympick Games.

This evening dozens of people climbed a hill in rural Gloucestershire to witness,amongst other things, an ancient and little-known sport - shin kicking!

While it may be widely acknowledged by schoolboys the world over as a useful form of playground retribution, for some reason, shin kicking has largely gone unnoticed as an organised sporting activity. But the sport has been practised here on Dover's Hill,since the early 17th Century.... Although not as aggressive as earlier versions, where players were said to have hardened their shins using hammers in over-zealous preparation for the main event, the competition remains the highlight of the Cotswold "Olimpick" games.

Players, wear the traditional white smocks of shepherds, grasp each other by the shoulders and attempt to land well-timed blows to their opponent's shins. Only then - in mid-kick - can a player attempt to bring his opposite number to the ground. The contestants stuff their trousers with straw and must wear soft shoes whilst the stickler, the ancient name for a judge or umpire, is on hand to make sure a shin is hit before a fall can be scored. The games boast no broken bones in the past 400 years but "there are some bruises"!

Indeed, each year on Dover's Hill just above the sleepy, chocolate box postcard village of Chipping Campden and overlooking the Vale of Evesham, thousands of competitors and spectators celebrated this very traditional occasion. Bands marched, cannons fired and rustic activities such as the jigsaw race and falconry displays, performing dogs and events that include the wheelbarrow marathon, tug of war, climbing the 'Unclimbable Ladder', the Champion of the Hill welly wanging and the fabled shin-kicking competition bring everyone together....

The British Olympic Association, during their successful bid for the 2012 games, said: An Olympic Games held in London in 2012 will mark a unique anniversary - it will be exactly 400 years from the moment that the first stirrings of Britain's Olympic beginnings can be identified. You see it was here back in 1612 in the tiny village of Chipping Campden, Robert Dover opened the first Cotswold Olimpicks, an annual sporting fair that honoured the ancient Games of Greece. Those early 'Olimpick' competitors were as remote as you could imagine from the Olympic stars of today, and the sports included singlestick, wrestling, jumping in sacks, dancing and even shin-kicking. But whatever the eccentric nature of the event, this was the pre-dawn of the Olympic movement, and the Cotswold Games began the historical thread in Britain that was ultimately to lead to the creation of the modern Olympics!

Whilst there have been changes over the years, the sportsmanship, the fair play and the sheer enjoyment of these games is still closely linked to those established by Robert Dover back in 1612...

2007-05-31T07:38:00.000+01:00

The book, the film, the Tshirt...

To be updated, but I had the most fabulous out of the blue phonecall today - things need to be shifted about, but essentially, if I can, guess who's off for two weeks all expenses paid work on a feature film in sunny Sardinia in August?!?! I've not been on a set for ages and I do get itchy feet about looking after everyone else and missing out! Because a lot of the crew has to be local the director, a friend from Birmingham days (I worked on the Brummywood Shorts programme with him) is getting jittery and wants a girl Friday to script supervise and oversee the smooth running.... how can I say no?!

2007-05-13T05:41:00.001+01:00

Viva Espagna...

It was through the gorgeous Eveline (Dutch, tall and blonde and with attitude) that I first clapped eyes on the Hotel Hacienda Na Xamena... Eveline was the assistant manageress at The Lygon Arms Hotel where I was doing some freelance PR work. Each year, with the family being spread about Europe Eveline's Dad let them take in in turns to choose where they were to meet for the annual family holiday get together. That year it was her choice, and she spent months surfing the internet, researching reviews and statistics and talking to ex colleagues littered around the globe as to where the most perfect, idyllic hotel would be. The sky was the limit - she could have picked anywhere and finally opted for La Hacienda.... Working in the luxury end of the hotel industry and at the level she was at you do become extremely pernickerty and with very high standards and by god she knew her spas...

Anyhow, she returned enthused and gushing it was the bestest place in the world she'd ever been, with views, sunsets and food that was second to none... so much so they go back every year and I've had it bookmarked in My Favourites for the past seven years, and there it sat until March when I got the all clear, and in celebration ITV Bird and I decided it was the time to book up and go...

La Hacienda is a little secret spa hotel hidden in the north of the island built into the cliff face... in fairness to Eveline without her I'd never have come across it and would probably have overlooked Ibiza totally as a holiday destination with all the bad press San Antonio gives it....

But, well, the pictures I think say it all... in mind and spirit I have been there the past fortnight - this holiday couldn't come soon enough...

2007-05-10T23:11:00.001+01:00

Crap Exhibition? Artist shits on Cheltenham? What'll be the headline...?

Take an internationally reknowned artist, the prestigious close to his exhibition with a hundred odd people, including hero worshipping illustration students and local dignatries packing the gallery at the University, photographers and journo's from all the papers and magazines that needed to be there and then blend into the mix his jetting back from lunch in Barcelona and having developed food poisoning en route back... sure made for a few nerves pre-event but he pulled it off like a pro despite locking himself in the loo for the hour leading upto his presentation. All I could offer from my position on the other side of the loo door was the trusty bottle of Rescue Remedy which even I admit doesn't really do much for near death experiences... My goodness... no one warned I needed nursing skills or negotiating skills for this role! All went smoothly though and no one would have guessed the preceeding hour to his few words until he decided to tell everyone about it and to steer clear of the far corridor as he'd "left his mark" - the journo's pens were almost creating sparks they were noting him down word for word. Goodness knows what the headlines will be in the morning, I dread to think...

2007-04-25T17:02:00.000+01:00

Downing St comes to Cheltenham...

This evening saw the wonderful Jimmy Lynch train it up from government HQ to share his secrets of spin being the Head of Digital Communications at Downing St... he is the brains behind the Prime Ministers website which after all the seriousness and tecchie talk, the night ended with Blair's fabulous Comic Relief sketch with Catherine Tate which he apparently did in just two takes!

2007-04-23T17:25:00.000+01:00

Happy Clamping!

It was like a scene from Bad Girls. There we were rattling at the metal door of the salubrious porter cabin perched on the edge of a landfill site smelling of a cross between rotten fish and sulphur. My baby car had been seized by over jealous clampers who had sprung within 60 seconds of the cross over time in the “Permit Holders Only” section outside ITV Birds house.

Having established

a) The car wasn’t parked round the corner
b) Hadn’t been stolen by the police
c) I really had driven this weekend and not trained it

all hell broke loose as calls were made to Lambeth Council and about 6 differing clamping companies who operate within it. For hours the car was “unlocated” meaning the poor darling was on the back of some tow truck taking in the sights of the Big Smoke. It was as if someone had stolen my left leg, I felt overwhelming parental feelings for my lump of metal which had never even entered into the congestion change until this very morning… and there it was, lost, alone and bereft wondering if it’ll ever see me again.

It wasn’t a simple task either once it was finally located (South Bermondsey – a case of lets find the furthest and most inconvenient pound to stick it in) culprits need photo ID and also proof of address - “a passport and a gas bill will do” came the helpful comment – ‘cos yeah, you always have them conveniently placed in your handbag for a weekend away. Suffice to say I had neither – my University Staff ID card wouldn’t be accepted and I had nothing aside my business card with my address on. So – they keep the car, with the cost upping by £200 each additional day. It was a nightmare, I just couldn’t do this on my own and today of all days ITV Bird had meetings with Melvyn and things that just couldn’t be shifted til mid afternoon…

Behind the bullet proof glass in the main porter cabin sat the humourless girl with a look of "oh, here we go, yet another case" wiped over her flat face. When phoning before arrival for directions she may as well have said "follow the tow trucks" - they were pouring off the Old Kent Rd down the lanes of this grotty industrial estate which was overflowing with rows upon rows of seized cars.... including my little baby...

We wait rattling the hard metal door for a long long time feeling like a convict, just enough time to ponder over every thing you have done in the last decade or so, like why I ever had acryllic nails, why you pierced your ears twice, why I took the builders to court, why I didn’t vote for Jade to be evicted on Big Brother et cetera et cetera. Anyway, we finally get let intothe payment office where ITV Bird filled out the forms and paperwork and had her identity verifie via her household bills and photo id.

The paperwork was hilarious – it consisted of a memory test whereby you had to list various items in the car to prove it reallly was yours (the fact I had the keys would have proved it to me personally if I was a man in a flourescent jacket, and any one trying to obtain entry to their perported vehicle via a crowbar I would have considered a con artist). So, to try and spice it up we thought of all the things that wouldn’t be listed on the copious forms they’d have to file and suggested “emergency tampons in the glove box”, “bonios in secret boot side flap”… also added cream H&M Pashmina in back seat pocket, green wellies in boot and Turning Thirty talking book in side door… was quite a snap shot of my world really. Maybe I could write a book on these forms and marrying them up with their owners, it’d be such a sociological overview of law breaking citizens at that time.

So, memory test completed that isn’t enough, you then have to take the form through second door of said porter cabin and present it to jobsworth #2 who then walks you to the car and asks you to collect all the items up to prove your recollection really is 100% and wave them at him through the windscreen as he duly ticks them off on his clipboard with a chuffed look on his face as if saying "yeessss, I told you that was in there, correct" when in fact it was MY memory test and ME who should be the one being congratulated...

Even then this isn’t enough – you get a tick and a stamp on the form and then back to flat face in the cabin to fill out more forms, pay, hear the conditions for appeal and then ask any questions – my request of whether there was a "drinks machine” was deflected by her doing some more ticking and stamping so I asked “is there a loo?" which too was totally ignored. My god, with a bill like we'd just had it amounted to:

a) a weekend in Paris
b) afternoon tea followed by dinner for two at the Ritz
c) A night at Babbington House with a massage
d) 60 odd Happy Meals

and we'd not even had so much as a complimentary mint imperial with the receipt which even the local Indian restaurant provides faultlessly every time we go. So, feeling ignored and returning back to her "are there any last questions" seeing out the corner of my eye the sticker on the window stating “please ask if you want this form in any other format” decided that actually yes, for our inconvenience and their lack of loo, cappuccinos and garibaldi biscuits and blatent rudeness "I would like to request copies of my notice in Braille, audio, Punjabi and Icelandic…" - it was at that point we were shown the door.

With various ticked and stamped forms in hand I then had to return to the flourescent jacketed Memory Man who then took me back to my car littered with my chosen "objects" strewn on the passengert seat and stuck yet another date stamp on the notice whilst trying to chat me up (granted it is a shit job for him taking everyones grump – and I did feel the need to tell him to protect himself from everyones negative energies which he seemed to know a lot about – but then just five minutes in the place I guess you’d fast realise the innards of the perimeter fencing was sapping) I opened the car door and pointed out the broken glass all around the drivers side...

Me: there’s a lot of glass down here?
Him: is it your glass?
Me: (checking windows) No
Him: Then it is not your worry
Me: But I worry about my car being on it
Him: Your car is fine
Me: But my tyres may not be
Him: Exactly, your car has tyres not bare feet
Me: Please let me just leave….

So here I am, busy concocting letters to Ken and more interestingly to Right Said Fred who is apparently standing for Mayor with a rather interesting manifesto regards London congestion …. For me, thinking of Carbon Footprints alone, wouldn't it have been easier (on them, me, the environment, emotional and physical energy, fuel etc) to just place a ticket of said hundreds of pounds on the car save all the hassle of towing it over town and blah de blah?

Our conclusion after the long and highly eventful afternoon was that in the mind of Blair, towing my poor little car enables flat face and her colleagues to hang out in the porter cabin whilst watching lots of little men in fluorescent jackets prance between the Mercs and Crossfires playing memory games 24:7 with enraged clients and get paid for it.

Now there's an unemployment plan if ever I need one to rent a field and buy a tow truck when I get back home...

2007-04-22T19:25:00.000+01:00

Sunday – Proper runners

Awoke to a pure blue sky morning in Chiswick and had Myrtle Manor egg and bacon muffins around the table with the family which was a perfect start to the day…

Headed over to Richmond Park to kill time before noon when the shops opened, for a walk amid the deer and joggers until it got a bit more serious with ducking and diving to avoid being decapitated by vast kites adheared to corset type harnesses strapped around willowy boys on 4x4 skateboard type things… (nb am not being melodramatic with the decapitated bit as we laughed about it at the time only to be told seriously later this eve when recounting our survival that they are actually really dangerous and one chap we spoke with nearly did it professionally but stopped when he deeply cut his arms on the strings in an accident… ohh er, you take your life in yours hands in London parks am telling you…)

So, with heads still on we briskly trotted over to Covent Garden - no matter how many times I go it still reminds me of school trips to London - it was always our meeting place there! Lunched at the fabulous Wagamama (translated from japanese meaning ' wilful / naughty child') for healthy fodder and a completely new eating experience (am still such a naieve tourist and still end up open mouthed til I read they had a branch in the depths of Birmingham and perhaps I shouldn't admit to being so out of touch with cool places!)

Trawl of more opticians to no avail until we accidently stumbled upon a tiny backstreet arty opticians shop and opted for a pair in the same range as the first shop we looked in yesterday - which are non-labelled and, naturally, British. They “deliver a potent combination of urban adventure and daredevil design. Booth and Bruce is an inspired piece of organised chaos, a reflection and distillation of young Britain, a melting pot of styles and ideas shimmering colour with a red hot vivacity and in your face style which is hard to ignore and even harder to forget”. OK, I know they are just glasses and few people aside Mr Dog will witness me in them, but being a word smith schmuck the small print just did it for me…

Then on to the finish line of the London Marathon after seeing hobbling runners laiden with their medallions around their necks falling into pubs and some, just wandering around like it was a regular Sunday popping in and out of the shops oblivious to their attire or sweaty nature! 36,391 runners took part in todays marathon in the sweltering unseasonal heat. Temperatures apparently hit 21c at midday (equalling the 1996 record, and rose slightly higher in the afternoon. Despite the extra water and run through showers, huge number of runners were collapsing at the finish line and being resuscitated left right and centre which sort of stops you in your tracks. From where we were, there seemed to be more ambulances and sirens than jubilant completers… suffice to say we didn’t stick around very long and I was filled with the dread of all my new gear simply adorning a stretcher half way around the Race for Life come July… to compensate soaring temperatures in July I am thinking of training in polo necks and thermals just to get used to inclement conditions...

Back to Clapham in the eve for work catch up before joining the ITV gang down the road for a Sunday night night-cap to debrief on the scary kites, glasses, marathon casualties oh yes, and losing 3 hours of work in a word document which totally disappeared… but am not going into that now, too close to tears still....

2007-04-21T19:38:00.000+01:00

Calendar Girls...

Drove to London where we headed pretty much straight away for a (much needed) late lunch on the pavement in the sun on the fab Battersea Rise. I find the correlation from stepping in the car in the village to getting out in Clapham so so disparate... Worlds apart. The aim of today was to sort out frames for my new specs and ITV Birds new specs – something which on the surface sounds an easy task with the options London provide but with too much choice and offending over helpful optomotrists which scared us away it became quite a chore… after finally pounding the High Street of Clapham to no avail we gave up and opted for a Frappucino on the common in the sunshine and the promise of finding some in town in the morning…

Over to Chiswick this evening to Suzanne’s for a dinner party… now Suzanne is one of ITV Birds colleagues from a former job when they worked on Calendar Girls (it was actually Zanne's brain child and she produced the film) She now lives in the most amazing house backing onto the Thames... it was idyllic as wine in hand we all tottered out to the boat launching pad behind the house and watched the herons swooping across the water before devouring nibbles on the new patio complete with candles.... We had the most fabulous meal and conversation before falling into their spare room far too late and laiden with far too much food and white wine - I love our industry...!

2007-04-19T19:45:00.000+01:00

Morning Tea

I just so had to mention today - sometimes there are moments in your life when you just have to stop and take check of the situation you are in. This morning, there I was sat in the sunshine on my decking at Myrtle Manor drinking tea with the delightful George. I know my job means I am often priviledged and land in situations so fantastically unbelievable and wonderful.... but today, well, it was a "moment" and for the first time in a long long time I was semi in awe. When I say 'George' here I am meaning George who created Next, George as in "George" at Asda, the brains behind M&Ss Per Una etc etc.... and if I play my cards right he may be my new honarary president for the University.... we are organising an official meet up soon.... I cannot wait. He has a new fan and anyone who parks their shining Ferrarhi outside Myrtle Manor is a pal of mine.... talk about setting tongues wagging, it was round the village in minutes that I had a "rich, well dressed male visitor" - still, it works two ways... with two of his daughters living either side of me he had the low down on me and was revelling in the gossip! The villlage network has its advantages and disadvantages I guess... we certainly weren't short of conversation!

2007-04-13T11:27:00.000+01:00

Friday 13th: A Secret Cultural Reference or just a plain unlucky day?

Another fruitful, productive and really good day. Number 1, I receieved a letter from the council stating that I am officially re-elected as a Parish Councillor again – later found out this was printed in yesterdays Journal but since I’d not read it it came as a nice surprise. However, I do feel slightly cheated, was looking forward to making my £718.55 worth of expenditure I was eligible to claim back for my “campaign” in the lead up to the May elections – how the hell could I have racked it up? Was thinking of employing little men to be sited on every corner in the village with sandwich boards saying “Vote for Councillor H-J” and then thinking of lots of differing slogans… of doing leaflet drops on post card in glorious technicolour to rack the price up, of getting rosettes made for them to wear in the post office and behind the bar….. but alas, none of this is required as the number of us applying to be on amounted to the number of places. We have one new recruit apparently who’s taken the place where someone stood down, so no major changes…. we have the April meet next Monday then new duties resume as of the May elections.

Next parcel was my new book jacket for book number 3… of all of them the 1st is my favourite simply as it took up such a vast chunk of my world, but the 3rd is the most important “headline” wise and “to better of humankind” wise. I love the design, it’s practically the same as the hardback but for some reason the picture they have chosen (accidently or purposefully?) is almost 5 years old…. Am I that wrinkly and old this needs to be done at the tender age of 30???

Afternoon out trawling the antique barns seeking an oak box to put my CD player on but still no finds… however could have bought an old butchers table, a 1960s school desk complete with inkpot and stickers inside, some old fold up art room chairs, a really old french milk bottle, a wooden beer crate (thought of putting little terracotta pots in random holes with herbs in), and then found a fur coat with the original 1972 Beatties receipt to a lady in Walsall of my Grandmothers name… how weird was that?! My Granny lived in Moseley at that time but it was really weird even so as its such an unusual name and she loved her fur coats...!

Then this evening we were taken out by the younger generation girls for a night out… its was Georgia's birthday and the thing to do when you’re 13 is to go for a sophisticated adult meal alone – no olds – then you just text the olds when you’re finished to come and pay the bill and cahuffeur you home…. Why on earth didn’t we think if things like that at 13? Sure I was still having McDonalds parties on the toadstool seats at that age? So we, “the olds” safely deposited them in Ask and went to our own place nearby for catch up and fodder as we awaited the “we’re ready!” text….

However, the "we're ready!" text was preceeded by an array of "can x, y and z please stay for a sleepover?" type texts which really wasnt the plan and poor Shell was texting back a rational argument of why they shouldn't (eg it was 10pm and too late to organise, she had Jazz dancing next day, Shell had to leave first thing to get Harry to football etc etc) anyhow - it ended up with me talking outside with Georgia playing ref and deciding that a sleepover really would be a lovely end to the night and so long as everyone called and ok's it with their folks who then collected them by 9am tomorrow morning it would be ok... there were whoops all around, and after a photo and totally causing havoc in the restaurant (Courtney had to have a lie down in the porch area as she was so full of pizza and choc cake etc etc) we headed back to the various houses dotted about the vacinity...

So - the simple drive home changed to Shell and I going our separate ways and touring the country collecting toothbrushes and duvets. It was a hoot and thank god for the back up plan of the Tom Tom as we drove down unlit lanes between the houses! I honestly haven't laughed so much in ages as the conversation topic flitted from arguing whether it was bad luck for a black cat to cross you path or if just seeing it was bad luck (this was ended by my pointing out it was dark and the cat which sparked the debate was probably ginger so it didnt really matter) to the old house with broken windows by Catherine's being haunted, which led to the tale of a friend of theirs having been smacked by a ghost which led to Chloe retelling her psychic visions which came true and that today she had 'seen' a helicopter crash and it was Friday 13th and all, then we went off on a tangent about the vet who had his arm bitten off by a crocodile to Georgia recounting our run the other morning and us having to shine the headlights as we passed the hawthorn hedge where I was ripped to smitherines as Shell boinged them all into me as she flitted past the protruding vines... it was more Desperate Housewives chatter than St Trinians! I didnt feel old - I just felt they were old - not 12 and 13!

But then the age gap did kick in and this is where I should consider my years and experience when a 13yr old suggests we cut the corner and drive back down the farm track to the house.. this track is long and bumpy - we ran down it on Wednesday, conversation went like this:-

Me: Are you sure it's driveable?
G: yeah - it'll be fun
Me: But are you sure it's drivable?
G: Sure - Mum does it all the time
Me: In a 4x4 or the Merc?
G: In the Merc - honestly it's fine
Me: (feeling over cautious) OK- if you're sure
G: I'm sure.....

Ten minutes later we are stuck.
In the middle of a field.
No lights aside my headlights.
There are weird animal noises outside.
The car is overheating.... and we are mounted on a ridge.

There were shrieks - the windows were getting steamed up with the panic and G insists I dont open the window as it's too spooky and like Blair Witch. One of them (I'd lost track at this point) was suggesting her Dad was a mechanic and he'll mend the car whilst G was tapping in the number to call her Dad to come up with the tractor to tow us out. That was where survival kicked in..... lurching for the phone I took control - heeeeey we were fine, no reason to call anyone, let's rev and reverse a bit and after several slides in the flooded muddy bits and swerves to miss barns and potholes about quarter of an hour later we made it to the house.... the car smelling of smoke (I think it was all the grass and crap melting on the hot exhaust!) and us all very relieved... the anticipation and adrenalin had acted like alcohol and they all got out the car acting incredibly drunk and giggly... Poor Nick and Harrison had waited up not quite sure why all the girls were back and not been deposited home - they'd also been curious as to why "some pillock" had been crawling along the track in the dead of the night...

Me: but it's ok, Shell does it all the time in the Merc?
Nick: (laughing) My arse! What on earth were you thinking?!?!
Me: (looking questioningly at a giggling Georgia) but Shell does it all the time in the Merc?
Nick: (looking questioningly at a giggling Georgia) My arse....

Soon after Shell arrived back with the other car packed of giggling girls wondering how we'd made it back so quick, to the tale of us surviving the track... luckily we'd managed to get the foutons and mattresses down the stairs so they bulk of the sleepover prep was done... by 11.30 I left.... the girls at this point were hyper in PJs and all with post it notes on their foreheads trying to guess who they were. Harrison had been allowed "one game" as an honarary girl but it was rather unfair since they'd given him his own identity and were saying things like "he's a bit of a prat...."! Decided it really was time to go and begrudgingly turned down G's offer of staying too...! I so admire my GFs who do the kid thing - I struggle with the chickens and the boy, but I must admit it was peaceful opening the front door to Myrtle Manor .... so as for Friday 13th being a reportedly unlucky day, it was totally fine for me, though I can't speak for poor Nick and Shell's remainder of today.... apol's chaps!

2007-04-12T10:55:00.000+01:00

Bucking Bronkos....

Busy day properly 'back to work' - I'd sort of given up past two days as this week became akin to the week between Christmas and New Year when nothing can really be achieved as most people are away... so as I couldn't beat them, I joined them. With the weather being as it is I'd organised the main one to be at the pub behind the campus whose garden has been refurb'd with a lovely patio and deck area and furniture... so that was a fabulous break out to the day of meetings... then home to a quiet evening with a bottle of Chablis and the laptop out on my decking...

However, I must add how this training lark is a health risk, if not in the category of hidden rabbit holes, being mowed down by a car then today's new risk posed as an escapee bucking cow up Back Lane. upon getting home and planning a little circuit with Mr Dog I wondered what the little gaggle of townies (you can spot townies a mile off round here - usually tourists from the pub having a wander - they tend to wear impracticle attire for a country walk such as mini skirts, posh coats, stillettos or clean white trainers.... as my ascertain, trainers certainly don't stay white for very long around here with the country gunk) were doing gathered like a pack of frightened rabbits by the style. It turned out one of the girls had got out of the field and frightened and unable to get back in she was bucking like a bronko... taking the action any resposible villlager would I asked if anyone had a phone (another reason why I need joggers with a zip pocket so I can have mine - this was most certainly an emergency) and called the farm and walked back to the house to alert some of the others... job done and I left them to it opting not to watch the spectacle and continue with the circuit just in the opposing direction to as planned... if that's not dedication I don't know what is?!

2007-04-11T10:07:00.000+01:00

Sprinklers, Cauliflowers and Sunshine all round...!!!

Another glorious blue sky morning, diced with death walking to the other end of the village to meet Michelle for our planned training (and I don’t mean diced lightly – the lane to the farm doesn’t have pavements and is known for its racetrack qualities which mean occasional leaping into ditches/hedges/embankments as cars zoom past). I felt I’d completed my warm up, circuit and cool down just getting there - my poor little heart was all over the place…

The kids came on their bikes which was fabulous – I soon trained Georgia up to answering questions in a genuine sounding manner. eg:

Me: Is my face red - like I’ve been running? (I never seem to go red faced)
G: (looking round from her bike and seeing there is no change) Ohhhhh yes – totally puffed....

Me: Will you entertain us? (near the end the 2min runs felt like hours)

G: Queens “I want to ride my bicycle” and other cheer leader songs she learnt at Olympia (complete with hand actions which were a little dangerous as they often were usually accompanied by a sudden swerve over the track/lane/road as the bike took control) We even created an Ipod scenario where we could skip tracks and repeat the ones we liked... who needs £150 trainers to stick your Nano in when you've got Georgia with you?!

We did 7miles… up hill and down dale. It was terrific and I must say amounted to the bestest walk/run/crawl I have ever been on around these ere parts… there were times we had to stop and phone Harrison who'd peddled off into the distance to recall him back as we were taking a different route to him but all was well - how did folk cope without mobiles?! We pounded lanes I never knew existed up the back of beyond… the views, the sheep, the cows, the pigs… the hidden barns, the stunning fields of yellow rape, green whatever, cabbages, seedlings, wow… the utter hi-light for me though was near the end jogging through these filds which had sprinklers going – it was like a scene from a movie as we both jogged and the kids on their bikes ahead got pelted with beautiful droplets of water as it rotated catching the path in its track… it was like bursting through a wall of water and coming out the other end refreshed and energised… the great outdoorts... who needs a smelly stuffy gym....???

We ran back along their track to the farm, how I didn’t break an ankle or pull anything is unbeknownst to me but we did it, I survived and it was terrific fun… I collapsed on the couch with a glass of water watching the muscles in my thighs jump about like electrical currents dancing around a pylon…. And the best bit? My new Nike trainers have picked up GENUINE mud. Real scuffs and well, they are looking utilised….. I am fast LOOKING like a proper runner...

..and my reward? Whilst we were out Nick’d been cutting cauliflowers and brought in the biggest one I’d ever seem…. talk about GM veggies, this was giiinoooormous! Cauliflower cheese for the next 3 weeks me thinks!

Spent the rest of the day in the garden, mowing, hovering and sweeping… stunning weather, it seemed criminal to be inside. Then continued the sunshine theme by chilling at the Cinema this eve with the Uni gang and watched just that – a bunch of astronaughts some fifty years hence reigniting the sun… sci fi flick, which mostly went over my head – I got annoyed from the part they donned spacesuits and went outside the ship and Boyle for some reason didn’t deem it necessary or appropriate to equip them with a lifeline back to the ship so they didn’t spin off into orbit…. I whispered this point to Oli who hissed back they had turbo back pack things to steer, but what was the back up if they went out?? Things like that bother me – as did the “Oxygen Garden” which I would imagine to look akin to an Edem bio-dome but no, it was little more than a tub of bamboo… I have that in my chicken pen, he could have filmed it there… there was room for much more imagination. And when Freddie Kruger appeared at the end, well, totally over my head….
...as www.IMDb.com puts it "Sunshine starts with a none-too-original end-of-the-world scenario - the sun is dying. It follows the crew of an ill-fated spaceship that aims to kick-start our source of light and heat with a bomb the size of Manhattan. An accelerating sense of inevitable doom accompanies the heroes, interspersed with a sense of wonder at sights such as Mercury crossing the sun, and a twist ending which strains continuity and any lingering hopes of originality or believability". But it was nice to be taken out my comfort zone and see something I wouldn’t usually, if only to reinstate the face I don’t like sci fi or some of Boyles choices. But the Uni lot - I adore them, we piled into the old church that is now Zizzis for a belated Bday meal for Letty to complete the perfect day...

2007-04-09T09:46:00.000+01:00

All the gear - no idea....

Well they work...!!! I feel like a solid bronze sculpture as I jog. NOTHING moves (aside the tum, bum and thighs but apparently they will be well on the way to being suitably toned by the 1st July). This bra thing is PHENOMENAL - it actually MAKES you want to run even if just to look down and marvel at the wonderous feat in engineering that is the Shock Absorber.....

And the trainers - well, they are so light it's like donning a pair of pure cotton socks, and the soles actually move in a way that MAKES you WANT to put one foot in front of the other....

The weather is perfect - someone is so looking down on me and making this easier - the fields positively glow a lush green, set off by the pure blue sky... aside the odd rabbit or mouse I have seen no one on my route - the only time I do is as I am walking the warm up out of or back to the villlage and that's fine as I can speak at that stage...

I wish my old games teachers could see me now. I may write to them and invite them to come along and cheer me on, miracles CAN happen - I could be an ispiration to all fat PE hating teens at my old school..... I may even do a triathlon or a marathon, am understanding now how people get hooked. That £100 was the BEST £100 I have ever ever spent....

All is well.

I look the part. I feel the part. You know what, I think I am close to actually BEING the part....

2007-04-07T09:22:00.000+01:00

Running burns a hole in your pocket as well as your soles....

To the Bullring first thing in the hunt for the "imperative" (Shell's word) need of a sports bra and proper trainers if I am to take this running lark seriously and not do irrepairable damage... Something so simple sounding actually wasn't. After about an hour staring at racks upon racks of frightening contraptions and trying to wiggle in and out of several, I opted for the "shock absorber", impact level 4. It sounded like something off Star Trek. My God, you need a degree in physics to purchase these things... I will never look at well endowed women runners in the same light, the rigmoral to get safely protected and out of your front door is incomprehensible.... Now, added to the choice and getting in and out of them problem is the addition that with the tablets I have been on this past month my boobs have sort of ballooned and now, I have it confirmed, are the same size exactly as Jordans and perhaps as painful as Kates were when she first began breast feeding baby J. However, being natural and not laiden with milk, gravity has sadly prevailed and without reinforced scaffolding they do not look the same as either of theirs... Nice to have something else in common with Jordan though – our respective books being the only ones of our publishers making the top 20 the to her year (ok, hers was number 1 and mine number 20, but the technicalities needn’t be specified need they?) and now, well theoretically we both could share hammocks...! Maybe I should drop her a note about playing swapsies?

So - bras sorted, then it was onto sensible trainers - was utterly over awed in the sports shops by the amount of

(a) chavvily clad people

and

(b)the vast spectrum of choice, colour, style and price

in the big sports shops so ended up dispanding the venture and leaving trainerless, stopping off in the end of line trainer shop in town here en route home and bought a pair of fab Nike blue and white womens runners for £25 – utter bargain seeing as the ones I’d tried on a few hours earlier were a putrid orange and brown, cost over £100 more but had the pointless wow factor of being able to accommodate an ipod in the sole….

So, two shock absorbers, a pair of runners and some trainer socks later I was about £90 (currently about 50% of the sponsorship already raised!) No one told me this running lark was so bloody expensive! AND I need some decent joggers too if I am going to be seen in public in July... my Florence and Fred attire is fine for the deserted lanes around the village but not for public consumption. Perhaps I will work up to those nearer the time when my interval training has upped from 2mins on and 2 mins off?! And I want some with a little zip pocket for my mobile and house key - that much I have learnt - its inpracticle to job with a bouncing bum bag and my hands get to sweaty to hold them so I usually hide the key and go mobileless which concerns me if the occassion were to arise I broke my ankle down a rabbit hole in the back of beyond... I amy not be discovered for weeks....

Hmmmmm... all that tripe about it being the most natural form of exercise, of embracing the elements and feeling the wind whipping through your hair…. Sure, but only once your boobs are suitably cast to your chest and your feet have breathable, bendable multi coloured attire enveloped around them and your purse almost a hundred quid lighter….

Am still yet to be converted....

But... it's doing me good. It's doing me good. It's doing me good. It's doing me good..............

2007-04-06T08:41:00.000+01:00

Chablis and Bugaboos...

T'was the folks anniversary yesterday so headed up to Brum late morning to catch up with an afternoon's work and see Kate and baby Jessica for lunch... the three of us grabbed a table and sitting in sundresses with this terrific weather sat sipping Chablis as Baby J slept soundly in her Bugaboo beside us... was truly a perfect moment yet it was yet another rite of passage in the way I've never done this with a best friend before, not with a baby and a pram... know there's lots more to come, but the first time is a wake up call and it's almost mind bending to look at her there and consider that in some 10 or so years hence I will be there vetting her boyfriends and have a shoe shopping companion in this sleeping bundle! She's visibly growing every time I see her, she's so so perfect it's impossible not to just sit and stare... Rich popped by to swap the cars over and he's been working out with his new home gym, and as for Kate, she's looking terrific too and is I think skinnier than she was pre-getting preggers. They really are the uber family unit... I adore them to bits.

Went through the storyboard for the animation that The Sculptress is making for my “Rships wiv mble phones” - it's a first draft but aside the closing frames I adore it through and through... plan to create a mock voice over tomorrow before I leave the city....

2007-04-02T12:28:00.000+01:00

Parish Council

I have decided to fill out the nomination form for the May elections for the Parish Council and stand for re-election on Thursday 3rd May... I was co-opted on 2.5 years back so never had to contend with the rigmoral of getting nominations and filling out forms and land declarations and goodness knows what. Nor (more importantly) not being voted on by the village. But I am going to now - I completed the form today and added all the electoral numbers and place letters and things to it this evening at the Parish Council AGM..... may the best (wo)man win....

2007-03-19T14:14:00.000Z

The Smily Burley Man dines out....

Mum's best mate up't norf went to see Michael Ball last night. Apparently it was a fab concert and he sang several songs before the 'party' at the end and finaled in singing Feel like Dancing by the Scissor Sisters! But, and this is the funny bit, he went into great detail telling everyone about his fantastic 'lunch' at the Savoy a few weeks ago! Jenny said it was almost word for word what was written here on the blog about who was there, how he sat with the 'Royal' family, Amy Winehouse, Jason Donovan etc etc, how they got chucked out and started singing around the piano until they were told to stop!!!
She was waiting for the bit about this dumb brunette asking him if he knew the words to any of the musicals but thankfully he omited that part out! How groovy is that - and how cool she knew the outcome of the story before he'd even told it?! He even went on to sing the Amy Winehouse song 'Rehab'... that pic of the two of them seemed so incongruous at the time, now it's got some meaning. I just await Winehouse releasing her version of Another Suitcase in Another Hall.....

2007-03-18T14:42:00.000Z

Cream Tea: Mothering Sunday Special?!

So the folks head down to the country for a little Sunday drive and we arrange off the hoof to meet in Chipping Campden for a spontaneous Mothering Sunday Tea. All was well, we go to my favourite, usually impeccable brasserie only to endure a hilarious ordeal when our order arrived which involved a full on argument that the Madeira Cake was in actual fact a chocolate brownie ("no no its a definitely a Maderia Cake"), the same happened when ITV Bird was presented with Mum's Banana Cake with the insistence it too was definitely her Maderia. Then to my fruit scones… after being served a spoon and fork to eat them with and having sat for ten minutes waiting the cream and jam to appear fructions were rising... Joyeous when they did appear I smothered the awaiting halves with cream and jam then almost choking on the first bite. “It’s not cream” I hissed, ITV Bird glared her “Don’t start now” glare incinuating my tendency to being ultra fussy…. I coundn't contain myself and had to spit it out - only on disecting it produced a chunk of horseradish. No one believed me - no one I add. Even when the waiter came over… like everything being Maderia cake, he too insisted it was clotted cream yet refused to lick my finger full from the pot to test.

Half an hour later when everyone else had finished the last crumbs of their cakes and the three cups of tea had been consumed and the remainder now stewed in their respective pots, my two new scones and “real real fresh” cream was brought to the table. The moment had passed. I didn’t want cake – it was bad for me anyhow and the horseradish fiasco has most probably put me off cream teas for the rest of my life. So the moral of the story – I shouldnt have a penchant for cream teas so I think everything happens for a reason...

2007-03-17T19:11:00.000Z

Head of Production does Radio (not)

Of all the people I have had tag along to interviews I must admit ITV Bird was one I didn’t once question. Imagine the scenario: there I am having got up at the crack of dawn having been drunki as a scunk the night before, driven back to the city and am back in my broom cupboard, utterly supportive ITV Bird is at my side with the second set of headphones on (I add, the first person ever I have let in the room, ever, with any book – even on telly things in the past I am sure my bro or Mum was banished to the green room and not allowed in the studio so this was a big thing) So, the links been made and down my headphones is Radio Ulster blaring away – the producer clicks in and tells me they’ll be with me in three minutes. All fine – what can go wrong in three minutes……?

Out of nowhere, ITV Bird decides to have a sort of panic attack perhaps brought on by the hemmed, closing in feeling the tiny blue room provokes, which finished in a spluttering coughing fit interspersed with this really bizarre episode in which mid cough she lashed out at the mixing desk and sort of accidently hit one of the numerous buttons. Now, we both may be media moguls but tecchie we are not – the sound went from the earphones, the second hand flicked from second to second and after much stabbing in the dark one of us hit something which got the sound back though unsure if the mic was now on – the whole thing was utterly hilarious… we had a mock fight, I couldn’t believe out of every single person I knew she would be the one to almost ruin it all, laughing she started coughing again and sort of fell out the sound proofed door into the corridor as I tried to compose and sound the serious writer that is I…. thing is, during the whole episode we’d forgotton the producers and presenter could hear the whole shinanagins going on from Birnmingham NCL….

The interview was fabulous though – of course spirits were high with it being Paddys Day they’d done a prerecord of him going to some kennels and interviewing pet owners, it was really light hearted but totally on side...

Post explaining to Ulster the hysterionics pre interviews and being congratulated on my professionalnes once the on air light went on I just had to go and touch a few Mulberry handbags, hang out in Armani and sniff the Jimmy Choo boots on leaving the BBC to regain composure and before contemplating the long drive back home….

2007-03-16T15:06:00.000Z

Celebrations with Dom Perignon and Walking Sticks for the Big four-oh

Next door neighbour hit the big forty mark today... another big party just a month on from mine. Think we have set the precident for monthy champagne meets actually... wonder who's to host Aprils meet?

They'd converted the barn at the bottom of their drive last year and now it came into its own, with the woodburner on in the corner and bubbly flowing and neighbours congregating left right and centre. Having barely eaten it did go stright to my head and left promising to walk the postmistress safely back to the shop... however, it was only when we got outside and the chill air hit us, we had the most sensible idea in the world, not to retire home after a long day and seek solice in our own beds but to 'have one for the road' and pop into the pub next door.
Quite what we looked liked rolling in nigh past eleven giggling away and then finding her retractable walking stick the funnnist thing in the world (she's perfected the art of flicking it with her wrist so it automatically becomes erect, terribly James Bond) but maybe not something to practise in a pub full of punters. isnt it funny how unfunny things sound in the cold light of day, but then it was the most amusing thing in the world... After almost taking several peoples eyes out we deemed it time to go and left almost as spontaneously as we arrived...

I love living here.

2007-03-15T14:24:00.000Z

Radio Ga Ga
Today was the official launch of my forth little 'baby' (AKA book) – and my wonderful publicist had filled it with BBC and British Forces back to back radio interviews. As glamerous as this sounds it is not – it instead means I sit in a little soundproofed broom cupboard with no windows from 8.45-4.30pm doing random interviews on various programmes up and down the country. The amazing lady on reception was blind and said even through she couldn’t see said she could feel the walls closing in on her when she had to set links up from there!

Birmingham NCA (hereon called Broom Cupbaord) is how it’s technically referred… I always come and do my plugs from the B'ham studios for various reasons, it combines a trip to see the folks and also, there are lots of coffee shops outside, Harvey Nics, Fat Face, The Aga shop and well, it’s just a lovely place to hangout. It’s one of the few plus’s for the BBC moving here to the Mailbox from the old Pebble Mill. When I did plugs and interviews back then it really was a case of moving between the broom cupboard and the canteen – not salubrious in the least.

So – first of all I have to contend with Birmingham rush hour which I totally misjudged and was horrified at the gridlock rush hour now is. Anyhow, the first few interviews went fine aside one question of “I found the whole titanic story fascinating – could you expand on it for our listeners?” In a word no I couldn’t, I wasn’t even aware I’d written about the bloomin Titanic – there was a definite stumble there and the lovely man made a joke of my deflection hissing it was on page 164… it just hi-lights the gap I make detaching myself away from my work, very weird...
On some of the scheduled interviews the bookings havent been made or are incomplete at various studios at one end – its phenomenal how many people are involved just getting me to speak to one presenter... How many calls and links and things have to be made.... there was a bit of a kerfuffle on one interview in that the tecchie people here in Birmingham have to connect me to Broadcasting House in London to NOC and they route me to whichever station I am appearing on. There are usually problems of faxes not being received and some bookings not being made at one end or the other as so many people are involved making the link and traffic happen… something went wrong soemwhere and I was introduced on the wrong station as Russell Watson – the man switching plugs at Broadcasting House got ours both back to front... Wonder how he fared plugging the book for me?! I did offer to sing but they were very polite (and swift) in getting rid of me! It’s such a small world – I did a Star Lives on him several years back. It would have been nice to have said hi, but sadly we were in opposing broom cupboards alone plugging our respective releases – synchronicity eh?

Another thing I find incredible is that by sitting on my arse in this little cupboard I have “travelled” the breadth of the UK and Europe from Exeter to Bristol, Essex to British Forces camps throughout the world and up to Newcastle to Leeds... Modern technology is amazing... And most of them cheat it and pretend I am “there with them” in the studio as its such a perfect line it’s not apparent to listeners that its anything else....

Everyone aside the last interviewer today was so friendly and kind – there have been some interesting phone-ins and some lovely presenters who blatantly HAD read the book which has been utterly refreshing... at the end of the day I am filling quarter of an hour or so of their airspace so mutually we both benefit, but I still feel so thankful that there in an interest in my scrawlings….

Called in to see my goegeous little God Daughter en route back to the folks place... it was all talk of Christening venues and plans - I can't wait...! Baby J is growing so so fast, and adorned head to toe in Ralph Lauren... it seemed so fitting I'd bought Kate a copy of Shopaholic and Baby to read in between feeds!