Finally, a night out on the tiles

I have just had the best weekend with the girls. My best friends, the girls I went to Ibiza with, came down from Birmingham for the weekend and we went to Fabric to see minimal techno genius Ricardo Villalobos play. It was the first night we had all been out together since Ibiza, and happily the night was a much bigger success than the disaster that was Sophie's birthday, back in November.

Fabric is an amazing club if you are into your electronic music. The main room has a crystal clear sound system, with speakers underneath the dance floor that send the beats vibrating through your whole body as you dance. I was back in Ibiza for the night, it was amazing to just let my hair down and forget about everything for those few hours. And even though Fabric is a pretty underground club, it is still a good excuse to get dressed up. I wore a super short leopard print tunic over some leggings, leaving the high heels safely in my wardrobe for the night to enable maximum dancing ability. My best friend Lacey is a make-up artist for MAC, so we all had fabulous MAC eyes going on. I even had the Ibiza bouffant recreated which is H's specialty and I can never seem to do myself.



Highlight of the night was hearing Villalobos play the opening beats of this tune at about 6am, us all screaming with excitement and getting my phone out to record a bit, so we would be able to remember the next day, and track down its name. This took us about two hours of ringing everyone we thought might know the answer on Sunday, and singing 'doob doob doob doooob' down the phone to them in our inebriated state. It was like an itch that was impossible to scratch. Thankfully we eventually found out the tune is Saturate, by the Chemical Brothers. And I think this has become the new anthem for our friendship.

And on a final note, turns out the Frenchman is into his music just like me, as he and his friends also had tickets for that very same night. Thank heavens he is not into rock. Oh, and forgot to mention... the other night with him went very well indeed thank you!

Retail therapy

I treated myself to these today. £40 from TOPSHOP. I love them one minute, but then feel slightly undecided. I think I will have to wait for them to arrive, to see them on my feet. I lived in my brown leather gladiators last summer, and they are still intact, but I fancy something that's abit more of a statement now.

I think my main reasons for indescision over them is that fact they are mainly black, and being a redhead when I'm not fake tanned I'm very pale skinned indeed. Black shoes on pale feet is not flattering. I ususally stick to golds and browns for my sandals which are much more flattering for my skintone.

Of course, during the summer I am pretty much fake tanned constantly, but still the thought of black leather against my white feet is not attractive. I REALLY LOVE THE SHOES THOUGH.

Another French dating attempt

So me and the Frenchman have loosely arranged to go for a drink tomorrow. I should be getting myself organised, planning an outfit and tidying up, but I'm feeling rather un-fussed as I don't feel like it is ever going to happen.

He is always so last minute with arranging plans, I will hear nothing for days and then receive a text inviting me somewhere that same evening - which I can never make as I have a busy life and need some warning to go on a date! Or we loosly plan to do something and it doesn't happen due to other plans getting in the way, such as on the tray roasted cat night.

The last time he text me, inviting me somewhere last minute, my housemate forced me to go even though I was hungover and unprepared. Big mistake. I ended up in a compromising position, wanting to be in an even more compromising position but being unable to facilitate this due to unshaven legs. Exactly why I need more than an hour's notice to meet up.

Also we have the problem of the language barrier. He never understands what I'm saying on texts, and I never understand what he is saying to me face to face. Well I do, but I am concentrating so much and trying to say things simply that I never seem to relax into conversation. But then there is normally loads of people around us, so maybe that would be easier if we were on a date.

God knows.

Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get the fake tan on the go. Just in case...

The burn

After a four mile walk on Sunday followed by Davina's new DVD and some of Ministry of Sound's Dance Workout I could barely walk or sit today of yesterday. So why did I then think it a good idea to go to Boxercise after work?

Lord only knows. The pain is bad, so bad.

What I do know is that my winter of hibernation has not only left me with an expanded waist line, but with the physical fitness levels of a 50 year old. I huffed and puffed my way through Eugine's grueling regime this evening. At one point I thought the skin on my face might melt off. My legs were shaking and my lunges were pathetic to say the least.

But you know what they say: no pain, no gain.

And even though I currently have too much insulation on my stomach to feel my abs, the pain tells me that deep below the wobble they are firming up.

One problem - coming home and eating two left over slices of pizza from last night while I waited for my salmon to grill may have undone tonight's hard work. 7am pilates anyone?

Jade Goody

Jade Goody is dying. And as this poor girl struggles through her last few days, the entire world seems to be looking on. Except for me.

I have made a point of not reading any of the interviews, I have not bought OK or Hello! magazines and I have not watched her wedding on Living TV. I can't bear to. I don't WANT to read about the horrific and tragic illness she is being consumed by. I want the world to stop watching, I want Jade to have some final moments of dignity.

Most of Jade's adult life, and her entire career has been in front of the cameras. First on Big Brother, and then in the voyeuristic fame that followed. Jade was the loud mouthed and slightly stupid girl who drunkenly stripped off and wailed about her 'kebabs' in front of 5 million viewers. Jade was the girl who didn't have a clue about Geography, or much else for that matter.

After the BB house Jade's star shone bright in a way that no other Big Brother contestant has ever experienced, and as her career grew so the world looked on. But even as her profile rose the world still laughed at her, we all felt superior to her: "That Jade, well she's nice but a bit dim really isn't she..."

In fly-on-the-wall documentaries we watched her open a beauty salon, launch perfumes and hire a personal assistant. In the tabloids we followed the birth of her two children, saw her split from Jeff Brazier and embark on her turbulent relationship with toy-boy Jack Tweedy. We watched all this while still looking down on her, still feeling superior to her. We laughed and tutted as she collapsed during her London Marathon attempt after doing little more to train than eat take-away curries - We'd NEVER be so stupid would we!

And so her car-crash existence carried on. The was her infamous appearance on Celebrity Big Brother that saw the people of India take to the streets and burn effigies of her. There was her awful, awful mother who no one should ever have put on TV. There were violent the antics of her now husband Jack, who seemed to consider himself above the law, that landed him straight in jail.

I, like many people, never liked Jade very much. I thought she was a bully in her original appearance of BB, let alone her behavior on Celeb BB. Her stupidity annoyed me. Her voice had the same effect on me as nails scratching slowly down a black board. But there comes a point when enough is enough. Nobody would wish cancer on their worst enemy, and when I heard Jade's cancer had been diagnosed as terminal I felt sick to my stomach. This girl is only in her twenties. She is one year older than me. She will leave behind two small boys who will grow up without their mum. It is heartbreaking. And I don't want to read about it at all.

We come into the world in private, and we leave the world in private. Death, and the process of dying, is not something that should be splashed across the media in this way. I feel nauseous to think that magazine editors have been hashing out multi-million pound deals to cover this poor girl's tragic last minute marriage and christening. There comes a point when we should no longer be watching. I feel like the world is now circling like vultures, waxing lyrical about how sad it all is while still whispering to themselves that this would never happen to them and feeling the ultimate superiority - the superiority of knowing they are going to carry on living after she is gone.

I hope Jade is as comfortable as she can be, and I hope she finds comfort in being at home surrounded by her family and loved ones. I hope for a miracle, but don't think a miracle will come. For Jade I am so sorry. And because I am so sorry I will never, ever pick up a magazine that is printing paparazi shots of a tragic, frail and dying young cancer victim. I hope the world will look back with shame, but I fear it will not.