When I grow up I want to be...

I LOVE this advert. I dare you to watch it and not feel like you are back in childhood and dreaming of being a glamorous air hostess. Check out the shoes... the hair and all set to an amazing 80's soundtrack.



I guess we all know it is not all glamour, but I think there is still some magic in the skies.

My Aunty, my mother's litle sister, was an air hostess, and when I was a little girl I wanted to be just like her. She met my uncle, a pilot, on an international stopover and it was quite the whirlwind romance. One minute she was being bridesmaid at my parent's traditional white wedding in the summer of 1972, then a few weeks later, without telling anyone, she's eloped to Guernsy to marry her pilot before moving to Canada to begin a new life.

I don't think my mother ever really undestood her actions and felt quite hurt that she was not included in the wedding or even privvy to her plans, but I think maybe my Aunty was worried her family would talk her out of the marriage and moving to a different continent with someone she had known for barely anytime at all.

And she most likely hadn't realy thought it through at all - My Aunty was always the wildchild and impulsive sister, compared to my quiet and conservative mum, which is why we get on so well and can sit up drinking vodka and talking untill the small hours when she visits...

She clearly made the right choice though as nearly 40 years later they are still happily married and just settling down to enjoy their retirement in Ontario.

How utterly romantic!

Poorly but productive

I'm still not well enough to go out, and thoroughly miserable, bored and grumpy as a result.

However I have used my day productively and had a massive eBay blitz from my sick bed. I sell clothes generally. Mainly my used stuff that I've got bored of, but also some unused bits.

My friend DD is a print designer for the big high street names, and a few times a month they are given access to the sample cupboard where every piece costs £1. The sample cupboard is packed full of clothes and shoes from the designers have bought from other retailers to inspire their work. Some are absolute tat, but some are real finds.

He always gets me a huge bag of stuff each time he goes in which I look forward to receiving each month. Once he got me and amazing pair of tan leather brogue style lace up shoe boots, that I absolutely adore. Another time he found me a gorgeous black bubble hemmed mini dress.

Of course, not all the stuff he finds me will fit or be to my taste, so up it goes straight on eBay, along with my old clothes and anything else I'm selling at the time.

Once you get going with eBay and the money starts coming into your account it's pretty addictive. In the last month so far I have made £250 and that is not including all the pieces I have listed today.

It's a good feeling to have managed to get something productive done today, but it doesn't make up for the fact that I'm still sitting here in the flat, still in my house clothes and that I can't go out tonight. We're on the guestlist for the fabulous Punk in Soho tonight and I'm currently helping my housemate SH get ready. She is trying to tempt me out giving me alcohol to drink and playing tempting tunes, but I'm not budging. I'm still not feeling well and if I go out and get drunk like this I'll still be feeling poorly next weekend.

A lonesome night in for this little one tonight again then.

Today's most missed memory

Sitting here now in my cold flat, Ibiza last summer seems a million years ago.

This was our view every night, either sitting in Mambo's drinking cocktails, or when we couldn't quite bare to spend 13Euro's on a drink sitting on the rocks with 2Euro cartons of Sangria.

The sunsets are magical in Ibiza, not just because of their amazing beauty, but because as the sun goes down the lazy days end and party time begins. I get a little ball of excitement in my stomach just looking at the picture.

How I miss it. Two amazing care free weeks, with my best friends in the world. Happy days.

I Swallowed a Cactus

I am feeling quite sorry for myself this morning. I have had a sore throat all week, but it got so bad yesterday, along with a fever, that I didn't go in to work, and I am still in bed now. My tongue has swollen up, and now my ear is starting to ache. All on the right hand side of my head/mouth/throat. Wah I hate sore throats.

And it's even worse because I don't have anyone to look after me, or go to the shop and get me orange juice and ice lollies. I would kill for some Ben & Jerry's cookie dough right now. And a biiiig glass of tropicana (with bits obviously).

It has also made me realise I really need to end what is left of my holiday romance with D. I spoke to him yesterday morning and told him how i felt really ill and was in bed, off work etc. Then when we spoke later on in the evening he didn't ask me how I was feeling at all, and after about ten minutes even asked me how work had been - he had totally forgotten or had just not been listening in the first place. It just made me wonder why I bother. If you have been seeing someone for nearly five months it would be nice if they actually made some effort with you.

I've been in a bit of a grump with the situation since Christmas really, he didn't get me a present or make any effort to meet up before I left for two weeks. Then, when we met up a week after I got back we had a stupid argument about the Israel/Palestine situation, and he really wound me up because it felt more like he was just trying to argue for the sake of arguing about something rather than because he felt strongly about it/had any real understanding of it.

I think basically he is just too young for me - and I have felt this all along but there was never really any issues, but over time I have started to notice I have different priorities. He just acts like a twenty-year-old, which is no bad thing by any means, but just not what I need. He is a good person, and it was nice to keep a bit if Ibiza alive for a while, but I think it has well and truly fizzled.

God my throat is hurting. I think sore throat is my least favorite illness and it means I get dehydrated quickly because it hurts to swallow, even water.

Has anyone got any pearls of wisdom for me to cheer me up a little? And if someone could pop round with a fruit pastel ice lolly that would be great.

Bit of a moan about the student loan

I graduated from university and entered the word of work a year and a half ago, beginning the repayment of my student loan pretty much straight away. Each month a percentage of my salary is deducted for the repayment before it even hits my bank account, and I never really give it much thought.

I realised this morning it had been some time since I had seen a statement from Student Loan Company, and also that I actually had no idea what my total debt was. After a quick rummage in my very organised filing system (bottom drawer along with birth certificate, photo albums and some unidentified computer cables), I managed to find a statement. Dated June 2006. With the address listed as my second student house. Oops.

What about online statements I hear you say. Ah yes, online statements! Good idea. Ok, please enter ART ID. What the deuce is an ART ID? Oh that could be it. Yes. Password. Ok most likely this. Now, just for the Secret Answer Question... In what city did you meet your partner? Partner? I don't have a partner! I have a university history of various flings and short relationships, but at no point would I have called anyone my 'partner'. Surely I can't have chosen this question? Maybe I was drunk. I proberbly chose it when drunk back in 2006 and that is why I can't remember it.

Time to call a human I think.

So, after a helpful conversation with a lovely Scotsman I am now armed with my ART ID number (completely different to what I thought it was), email resetting my online password and the total balance of my debt. I owe a grand total of £13,133. Which is not actually as bad as I thought it would be, especially for a Classics degree from one of the top 5 departments in the country. I had it in my head that the debt was over £18,000, so it is quite a relief really.

Another nugget of information I found out from my telephone conversation was that even though repayments are deducted straight from my wage on a monthly basis, my employer does not pass that money on to the SLC until the end of the tax year. Meaning my employer is earning interest my money! This had made me somewhat annoyed. And apparently it is not possible to opt out of the wage deductions if there is still an outstanding balance on the loan.

If they only require one lump payment to be made a year then I surely I should be able to put that money aside in a savings account and earn interest on it - not my employer.

The joys of shared accomodation

I love my housemates, all five of them. I do not, however, love hearing my dear friend J snoring loudly straight through the wall. He must have been drinking, he only snores when he is drunk.

The fact that I can tell how much alcohol he has been drinking by listening to his breathing without even being in the same room just goes to show the walls in the Warehouse are too thin.

Thin walls also lead to the following embarrassing exchanges:

J: So did you and D enjoy watching Silent Hill last night?

Me: Yes thank you J, it was very scary indeed.

J: So you had a good night then? Oh wait, I already know the answer to that one. You certainly sounded like you enjoyed discussing the film afterwards. All night loooong. Ooooh yeh.

Me: Shut the fuck up. [WHILE BLUSHING PROFUSELY]

Delightful. But at least thin walls mean you can hear someone else starting to get out of bed and dive out yourself, beating them in the race to the one bathroom we share. Every cloud...

Panic stations at the ready...

My father celebrates his 65th Birthday in this year. And after a long and successful career in the transport industry it is now time for him to step down and take his retirement.

He started his career on the London busses back in the 1960’s, and often tells me about the day England won the World Cup in 1966, how he had smuggled a radio onto the big red bus he was driving, so he and his cheering passengers could keep tabs on the game. There must have been such a buzz on that bus, I would have loved to have seen the excitement when a goal was scored, and when the final whistle blew!

He worked his way up the industry quickly, becoming a young area manager in his twenties, and then progressing onto senior management moving around the country for his career before settling into the position he holds today, over twenty years ago.

He has achieved so much in his working life, yet he is the most modest person I know and told my mother he didn’t want any fuss over his retirement, so we agreed.

Well, that’s what he thinks! Obviously a life event can’t pass by like this without some form of celebration so we have set about deviously organising a surprise bash fro him. I have just booked the venue, his favourite hotel, and now we have a matter of months to find, contact and invite key colleagues and friends from the breadth of his career, gather photographs, and organise the event; which will involve a sit down meal for 100 people. It is basically going to be like planning a wedding reception but without the dress.

The biggest challenge will come from keeping it all a secret. Mum won’t be able to make many calls as Dad would notice on the bills so I will be taking care of most things from down here, and god forbid anyone should accidentally ring the house and leave their RSVP on the answerphone.

And then there will be the search for the appropriate outfit. It obviously needs to be quite formal, without looking like I’m preened up for a wedding. I just want to look smart and stylish without looking over the top and as though I have tried too hard. Mum is kindly slipping me a few of the queen's notes to help me out, which should ease the pressure of my search, but I need to find my inspiration first.

I can feel the pressure on already to get everything organised in the next few months, but any stress gathered along the way will be so worth it to see the surprise and smile on his face when he walks into that room to be greeted by so many old friends. I can’t wait.

Peaches Geldof: words cannot express...

I think I can honestly say there is no one in showbusiness I dislike more than Peaches Geldof. Every time I read about her antics in the paper my oppinion of her sinks lower, and lower.

She's popped up again today. Speculation that her 5 month marriage to Chester French rocker Max Drummey was over because she 'no longer fancied him'. Wow. Breaking news, totally unexpected as well. I'm reeling from the shock, can you tell?

She just just reeks of a spoilt, immature little 'princess'.

First of all she poisoned my ears with her wooden performance presenting Big Brother's Big Mouth in place of Russell Brand. My ears started to bleed before I had a chance to switch off. I have never heard such an annoying voice in all my life. Public school screechy smug lisp is a good way to try and describe it. Urgh.

Then she poisoned my eyes when photos of her started appearing in the London Lite and London Paper EVERY DAY for months, a various intoxicated states. The one of her bottom dangling in full view as she tried to climb over a park gate in front of a crowd of paps was the classic. Attention seeking? Surely not.



Then she made my brain bleed after I read her 'column' for American magazine, Nylon, on her life in New York. It reads more like a piece of GCSE coursework than published journalism and is so self obsessed and pointless I wondered if it was a joke when I first had the misfortune of reading it. I can't actually work out what she is trying to tell us, except that she is a spoilt brat, but some gems include:

"My days here are spent working on interviews for NYLON TV, writing articles, and listening to Cory regale me with tales of her life in L.A., which are always ludicrous and funny, her high-pitched hyena laugh filling the office as Marvin strums his guitar and dreams up ideas for the next issue."

Wow Peaches, your life sounds so cool. And then...

"My best friend here is a boy named Bunny. We spend our days traipsing around Manhattan—him in skin-tight plaid trousers, huge geek glasses, and a mass of red hair sticking out haphazardly from beneath an Amish-style hat."

Well how sweet! But what about laughing Cory and the guitar strumming Marvin?

She seems to write totally believing her own hype, expecting us all to be jealous of her 'trendy' life in New York. But in reality she just sounds like a little girl who has a lot of growing up to do. And did I mention her writing makes my brain bleed?

A A Gill, if it is him - it certainly sounds like him, sums her effort up strikingly:

"Perhaps go away for a while. Stop searching for limelight. Stop living in dreams and see now, now. Get some life experience, keep your head down until you do and save us from this insipid, vacuous social commentary that justifies the dislike of you."

Quite.

Surely everyone knows if you want some decent commentary on life in New York all you need is LibertyLondonGirl? Peaches, take note!

Hard times and January blues

It has been a particularly slow Monday today. I'm not entirely certain where my head is at, but I think it got left behind somewhere this morning when I ran out of the door nearly late, as usual. Work passed by in a sort of daze. I sat through two meetings more interested in picking bobbles off the gorgeous angora cardigan my mother got me for Christmas, than contributing in any useful way, and pretty much dozed my way through a lunch date with E, my works partner in crime.

I think the January Blues have officially set in. The festive season bled me dry financially and physically. And although the damage done to my liver is now slowly repairing itself, I unfortunately have two weeks to go until the damage to my bank account has any chance of healing.

An empty bank account means an empty diary, and while I'd normally be busying myself with post work drinks, shopping and dinner dates with friends, all I have to look forward to in January is the weary trudge home to whatever measly dinner I can pull together from my emergency rations.

Now don't worry, I'm pretty good at battening down the hatches when times are about to get tough. It's in fact quite the running joke amongst my flatmates, who call me the 'little stockpiler'. At the first sign of any financial challenge on the horizon my immediate response is to do a massive, but cheap, online food shop from Tesco. And this month was no different. My cupboards are filled with can upon can of chopped tomatoes, baked beans, kidney beans, butter beans, some other kinds of beans, some tuna and a few more kinds of beans. I've got potatoes, onions, garlic, pasta, cous-cous and rice. I've got a large amount of chicken thighs bagged up in the freezer, along with salmon and fish cakes. I've got vegetables to last me nearly to the end, and then a £5 stash for the final few days. And of course I have tea bags and coffee.

So you see, I won't starve, I will be living on casseroles and still getting my coffee in the morning. Lunch at work will be hassle free and brought from home every day. My oyster card is paid up until March so I can get to and from work. Everything important is taken care or, all bills are paid and up-to-date so it's fine, really it's fine. But, without the distractions of a hectic social life it is easy to start feeling a little blue, and it's not like I have a boyfriend to keep me company on the sofa. I just thank goodness the last purchase I treated myself to was the Sex and the City box set, heavily discounted in the Zavvi closing down sale.

And that is where I shall sign off now, tucked up in bed with my cosiest winter warmers, full up from bean casserole and off to immerse myself in the joys of Carrie and the girls in season three.

Life could be worse... but roll on February!

Blog re-brand?

I spent most of yesterday spring cleaning my bedroom, and today I'm thinking of spring cleaning my blog... with a re-brand. I am still very new to blogging, and didn't know what to expect or really how to go about things when I started this a couple of months ago. However I'm now feeling that my blog is kind of bland and the title is kind of boring. So I might just rename it, self titled after a nickname...

Have any of you guys changed your blog name since starting? And the look of your blog? Is it the done thing to do i wonder?!

Hoxton Square birthday celebrations

Yesterday was my housemate's birthday, and we journeyed over from west-London to Hoxton for the celebrations. I love Hoxton Square, nestled in the east London borough of Shoreditch, its bars and eateries are magnets for the creative crowd. Young fashion types, film makers and artists can all be found here, their edgy style making it the perfect place for people watching. For the fashion of Hoxtonites think cool and ironic, vintage inspired with a touch of nu-rave thrown in for good measure - boys in skinny jeans and girls in prom dresses.

Seven of us dined in the cheap but delicious Yelo Thai where I had, what I think could have been the best chicken and cashew nuts of my life. Granted I was hungry… ravenous in fact, but it was seriously good. We sat canteen style on long benches (think wagamama’s without the crowds), sharing our table with a Jarvis cocker-esq trendy boy; complete with floppy hair, square glasses and a retro velvet shirt, accompanied by his polka-dot prom dress wearing girlfriend. Did I mention Hoxton Square was good for people watching?

Food devoured we hot footed it next door to the Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen for cocktails. Feeling I should branch out from my usual choice of a cosmopolitan I decided to try the classic gin martini. It is safe to say I have not been converted. A gin martini I have discovered is basically cold, straight gin with an olive on the side. An olive with a stone in it for that matter, raising the dilemma of what to do with this stone once the olive has been consumed. Fight your way back through the crowds to the bar to get a napkin? Swallow it? Throw it at someone? Hmmm.

Martini woes aside, a fun night was had by all. Somehow we managed to make it onto the last tube home and there the vino was cracked open, maybe not such a good idea on a school night…

I wish my bed was in my office today.

This time next year, Rodney, we'll be millionaires!

You may remember my excitement last month at purchasing Girls Aloud tickets for April. Well, after discovering tickets selling for nearly £100 EACH on eBay (due to the O2 concerts being sold out), I have listed my tickets up there. I know many people see this as immoral, I just see it as supply and demand. And boy is the credit crunch crunching me right now. I just wish I had bought six tickets now. Kerching!

First day back on the commute.

I can tell I've been out of London for sometime. This morning on the way to work I smiled at someone on the train and later asked a lost looking lady in Waterloo station if she needed some help with directions. This won't last long....

Reflections of 2008 and onwards into 2009

Yes I'm abit behind with my the seasonal blog posts, but I barely stepped near a computer for the blissful two weeks I spent back in the 'shire.

2008 for me has whizzed by in abit of a blur really. This time last year I was just moving into my new flat in London and in the same job I'm in now - so really there has been very little change. Oh and I'm still single. But I've had my fair share of dates, including a drop dead gorgeous cricket playing surrey lad, a stock broker and a personal trainer. Oh and not forgetting the toy boy from Ibiza who still lingers but for how long I don't know. I had an amazing holiday to Ibiza that now seems like a distant dream. And finally I got myself into more debt this year living in London than I have ever been in in my life. Although it is all manageable and is not stressing me out really. Marks out of ten for the year? I'd give it an eight for fun times, but a low six for life satisfaction.

So what about New Year's Resolutions? Basically to sort my life out. It is glaringly obvious to all who know me that London is not really the city for me, I've had fun but i've never been blissfully happy. London to me feels like a relationship that you are not all that happy in, but can't quite bring yourself to be bothered to leave. So it's time to get my arse into gear and leave! All my closest friends still live in Birmingham and I really miss them. As well as missing my family and the ever increasing debt as London is totally unaffordable on my salary.

This time next year I resolve to be living in a nice little two bedroomed semi in Birmingham, with a small garden and two cats. Boyfreind would be nice. Car desired. Job satisfaction essential. I've started researching suitable companies in my field to approach already, so watch this space. Hopefully soon this will become a blog of relocation.

Best piece of advice given to me over the festive period: "2009 is your year, and you alone are responsible for your happiness - so if changes need to be made, MAKE THEM, or 2010 will come round and you will still be sat at this table moaning that things are 'OK' but not 'Great'." Hear hear! :o)

It's not all mince pies and mulled wine...

I found out today my ex-boyfriend spent Christmas day on his own. His Mum died not long after we split last year. We have not spoken for months but have had a little contact over the past weeks, and spoke on the phone today. I felt so guilty when I he told me, if we had spoken before xmas I would invited him to my house in a flash for the day, no matter what had gone on between us when we broke up - I always care for anyone who has been in my life.

I think christmas can be such a sad time for many people... we are built up to the consumer orientated ideal of blissful happiness, helped along by adding to those credit card debts buying tat for people they will never use. But many people will spend they day alone feeling ten times worse because they can't conform to this ideal we are all made to aspire to.

So here's hoping you all had a contented Christmas, and wishing you a happy, healthy and prosperous new year. x