Birmingham bound

The bank holiday has landed! I'm about to leave the office, hop and a train and head straight up to Birmingham to see my dearest girls. Spring Bank Holiday weekend is a time long tradition of attending Gay Pride, drinking too much and dancing until our feet can no longer hold us up.

I will also be seeing my closest friend E tonight, fresh back from her four months in Kenya. This has been the longest time, since we met during the first week at university, that we have been apart. I am bringing the DVD's (classic period dramas to feed our addiction to good old fashioned romance), and she is supplying the feast.

This trip will be strange, as it will be my first journey home since I found out I had a new job in London. I had always promised myself, and my friends, that my time in London would be short and that my next job would bring me home. I can't help but feel I've gone back on my word in a small way, but the right reasons I hope.

Have a lovely weekend everyone, what ever you get up to!

A long time distant

I realised the other day that I have an addictive personality but a short attention span. I dive into new things with glee and enthusiasm believing I have discovered a new way of life. Take writing my blog - on starting I truly believed I would be writing if not every day then every other day. And for a short while that was true. I was obsessed - checking to see if anyone had commented, checking how many people had looked at my page and sitting on the tube planning what I was going to post about.

And it's not just blogging; budgeting, saving, making soup to take to work, exercising, dieting, being more friendly to people when I'm out, eBaying.... they are all things I have taken up only to forget about within weeks.

Anyone would think I was an Aries!

So quick life update (if anyone is interested):

• Got a new job! Doing communications for a very large organisation - very excited. Who said anything about a recession.
  
• Moving to Angel - Fulham has had it's day.
• Frenchman - Nothing really happening aside from him ringing me when he gets drunk and trying to talk to me, I totally lost interest in him a long time ago - but like him as a friend.
  

So life is about to change in a big way really. Since I moved to London nearly two years ago now I have worked in the same job and lived west - which has been great but a change is as good as a rest.

I keep getting that nervous feeling that things could get stressful. Moving house is never simple, and this will be no exception. We are spliting the house basically - Me and the two girls moving to Angel and the boys staying put in Fulham. Which is sad, but we can't put our lives on hold if everyone isn't on the same page. Which leads to the question, live as a three or find two new boys to omve in with us?

I think the consensus is to find two new male housemates to live in a five bedroomed house, but I am apprehenisve and quite fancy living in a girlie flat now. Boys are great and all that, but they are secretive and never do any cleaning. And finding two new housemates at the same time as finding a house will jsut add to the stress, combined with the fact I am starting a new job. all this change does not a happy me make.

Well for better or worse, Angel here we come.

The Jade Goody effect, hypochondria and a spot more retail therapy.

The week so far has been kind of stressful. I am a complete hypochondriac, but the kind that has such a phobia of receiving bad news (that I am always certain I am going to receive) that I am too scared to go to the dentist or doctors. As a result I worry worry myself half to death over any little niggle, but never dare go to get anything checked out. The phobia is so bad that I go faint in surgeries, and I find it impossible to give blood samples as the panic attack that always comes makes my vain contract and disappear from the surface of my skin.

But this week I decided it was time to confront my fears and booked my first dentist appointment in four years, and my first smear test at the doctors.

The trip to the dentist was HORRIBLE. I was very distressed to discover I have GUM DISEASE which he told me, very kindly, can cause stroke, heart disease and infertility. He took an x ray of my jaw (he must think all my teeth are about to fall out) and I have to go back and have an £110 session with a dental hygienist. All because I was too scared to go to the dentist for years. AND he says I grind my teeth and I have the teeth of a 50 year old. He says this is often due to stress. Well that is one more stress I had not thought about stressing about before… gum disease! Ta Dr what-ever-your name was. Also, I was so freaked out just from being there that I thought he had a special moving chair to relax people... and asked him to ‘turn it off’ because it was making me feel dizzy, but that was actually just me being on the verge of fainting.

The doctors this morning wasn't much better. As soon as I walked into the office I warned the nurse that I have an irrational fear of anything medical and that I may get distressed, but I don't think she was quite prepared for how stressed I was about to get. I'm bad at the best of times, but because I'm now 26 and have not yet been for a smear test (because of my stupid phobia), the fear and worry has built up to an unbearable level. Couple that with the 'Jade Goody' effect, and there you have a recipe for Tabby panic. As much as I tried to remain calm (because it's kind of embarrassing falling to pieces in front of a complete stranger over something so standard that every woman must do) I still ended up having a mini panic attack. while the procedure was being done, and then I was nearly sick after.

It's so frustrating because my rational mind knows I am being silly, but I can't control the panic that washes over me when ever I go to the doctors. The main thing is I did it! It's done. Now I just need to wait 6 weeks for the results, which I'm nervous about as I should have gone a year ago. But the main thing is it's done.

After all this drama I'm feeling kind of fragile, and what better way to calm myself down than a spot of retail therapy. Yes I know I probably need a different kind of therapy, but this is cheaper and prettier.

So I've treated myself to a few bits and bobs from TOPSHOP online, all from the comfort of my desk at work:



Grey linen blazer - £40. I have been flirting with this jacket for about two weeks now, never quite justifying it to myself. But after this week I think I deserve it!



And then I just couldn't resist this rose print vest top - £20. It will go perfectly with the grey linen blazer and some skinny jeans. I love the muted tones, will go well with a lot of the neutrals I plan to wear this summer.

I feel much more relaxed now.

Oh, and do you remember the tribal style gladiator sandals I ordered last week? They arrived yesterday, and they look amazing! I'm feeling really exited for summer now. :o)

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!

French Kissing

I have been making the most of my singledom in recent weeks. I have reactivated my membership on a Mysinglefriend.com, and have been in full flirt mode on nights out with the girls.

On Thursday I went for a date with a guy from MSF. It wasn't the best. He was dissapointingly short, as so many often are when meeting this way, and after a few drinks he started playing air guitar with a pool cue when there wasn't even any music playing. And yes he wanted to play pool on a first date. And he also spent about 20 minutes networking with some guy in the members club we were at. Not the best impression to make on me really!

Infact the best part of the night was once I got home. I had forgotton my keys and was waiting in the porch for my housemate to get home and my gorgeous neighbour found me and invited me into his to wait, with a glass of wine. He is french and his accent mesmerising, so a glass of red wine and two cigerettes later I was smitten. He hillariously tried to teach me how to say 'Roux' and laughed at me for my complete inability to make the sound properly. We also discovered we share the same birthday!

Well, I saw him last night in the pub over the road from our building and may have had a cheeky valentines kiss with him. Or two. And I woke up swooning this morning! But I'm not sure if is a good idea what with him living a couple of doors down the corridor. My housemate says there is nothing wrong with it, but her boyfriend warned me not to 'sh*t on my own doorstep'. Lovely phrase there, but a sensible meaning. I'm not sure if I fancy sharing a front door with someone I'm thinking of kissing a bit - it could all get abit awkard when we stopped kissing each other.

Wah but he's so gorgeous! And French!

Hmmmmmmm.

Oh well, I've got another date tomorrow night which should distract me at least for one night. Let's just hope this guy doesn't have penchant for pool cue air guitar.

Lazy and bad in the extreme

Yes I know it has been about two weeks since I wrote anything on my blog now. I'm disappointed in myself as I was doing so well!

In my defense I got paid, and then was out doing lots of stuff. It's the catch 22 situation of when you are skint you have nothing much to tell people about, but when you are out doing lots of exciting things you have no time to tell anyone.

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.

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!

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.

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)

I have tickets to see Girls Aloud in April!!!

Whoop! Yes I seriously love these girls. And I'm also secretly hoping that the magic of being in the same (large) room as Cheryl Cole for a couple of hours my give me the same (large) hair as her. God I love her hair.

Tales from the land of Brum

So I've just had one of those weekends when you wake up Monday morning and realise you are going to have to survive for the next three weeks on a diet of baked beans and soup. My online bank statement kindly informed me this morning that I had pretty much pissed all my money up the wall and I now have little over £100 to last me until payday. Luckily payday comes early thanks to Christmas, but that means I am so going to feel the pinch in January!

I started my weekend with a visit to the Covent Garden Comedy Club in central London. And it did exactly what it says on the tin, I laughed so much I nearly cried. The comedians were so funny, but probably the funniest moment of the night was a woman on the front row who started shouting at the headline artist for his joke about the blind. Apparently she had a blind son. Now the thing is I could maybe empathise if he had been offensive to the blind, but his joke was mearly saying the blind get a bum deal with a dog, and things should move with the times supplying sticks with sat-nav and inbuilt MP3 players... Not really that offensive. Well, this lady stood up and started shouting at the comedian telling him to move on... of course he told her to pipe down. If you are prone to be offended by certain themes then maybe a comedy club should not be high on your night's out agenda, let along taking a seat on the front row!

The next morning I woke with a heavy head after a long night of drinking and dining, and caught the train back up to my university city of Birmingham for one of my best friend's birthday. Birmingham is amazing at this time of the year. The German Christmas Markets are in town, which means festive shopping and large quantities of mulled wine and frankfurter sausages. So the day was spent catching up with old friends and warming ourselves in the freezing temperatures with large quantities of warm alcohol.

When our toes reached the brink of frostbite it was time to head back and get ready for the night ahead. And surely a birthday night out back home with the girls could be nothing more than perfect?? Oh dear. Well me and my two friends spent so long drunkenly getting ready at the hotel we didn't make it out until 11pm, by which time the birthday girl was already in tears due to an argument with her friends from home home. Not a good start. We had a few drinks and pep talk with our lady and things looked on the up so we all headed onto Gatecrasher Birmingham, where we were supposed to be on VIP guestlist with free entry. Only the birthday girl's friend had not quite come up with the goods and there was a disgusting door bitch who was rude to the point of insulting and made the poor girl take her coat off to check what she was wearing.

So we all pay ten pounds a head to get in, minus the VIP wristbands we had been promised and entered the worst club we have ever been to. Gatecrasher is a revamped nightclub in a venue that used to the The Works - a cheesy club right on the corner of Broad Street. It used to be chav central and awful music ahoy. Well lets just say a lick of paint and a few fancy chandeliers does not a good club make.

It was simply awful, and so falsely pretentious now since the make over. I love house music, and glamor, but this club was something else. There was no atmosphere, just a thousand back-combed wannabe's and men looking for some easy skirt. The music the cheesy end of house, and the dance floor was packed out but lacking any atmosphere whatsoever. My idea of pure hell. Combine that with a half hour bar queue and crying birthday girl and a good night you do not have.

Soph ended up leaving after an hour, leaving me, E and LM with no option to drink ourselves into oblivion. An utter disaster of a night, but a lesson well learned. Never, ever to return to the Gatecrasher in Birmingham. A leopard never changes it's spots and the Works on Broad Street will always be the Works even if you patch it up with designer wallpaper. I wish we had gone to Bushwackers, our usual Brummie haunt - small, fabulous atmosphere and amazing dirty electro and speed garage all night. Bad club aside though, it was still so good seeing my girls who i miss so much down here, and plenty of laughs were had.

So I arrive back in London Sunday dehydrated and hungover to hell to see D, whose birthday it was. I was to cook him his favorite meal of rare steak, only i fucked that up good and proper thanks to my hangover. Oh well, he was kind enough to pretend he didn't mind being presented with a cremated well done piece of meat. What a nice boy he is, and the cuddles more than made up of my empty bank balance and shriveled liver.

Note to self: next time leave the bank card at home!

I am off work sick, I am literally sick. About three times this morning to be precise. I think Pizza Express may have poisoned me. Bastards.

I hate being sick. It's not so bad when you are sick from drinking too much, because you are generally too drunk to be fully aware of what's happening and you generally pass out afterwards. But when you are poorly sick you just regress to the vulnerability of your childhood days. I want my mum, and i want to lie on the sofa in my sleeping bag, be allowed to watch TV all day and be nursed with soup and ice lollys. Actually scratch that, I don't think i could hold food down right now. But having my mum would be nice, rather than my empty flat with not even a flatmate around give me sympathy.

Oh well, I'm a big girl now and will have to survive. I have managed to drag myself to the shop for emergency supplies of ginger beer and wholemeal bread before the weakness sets in. Ginger Beer? I hear you say, but this is a gem of Tabby family wisdom, passed down from generation to generation. Well from my Dad. but anyway, ginger beer is the most perfect tonic for sickness. Ginger settles your stomach and ginger in ginger beer form is the ideal way to take it. This, along with dry wholemeal toast, will save you from death via sickness I guarantee.
At any other time I would find it hard to walk into a shop and buy ginger beer and keep a straight face. Ginger beer is the strange forgotten drink that sits in the bottom of the fridge. It lives in the pages of Enid Blyton and your grandad probably used to drink it. But when ever I have sickness there I am, with a face of grim determination, stocking up on the stuff.

Oh and all my lovely new clothes from ASOS will be be arriving today, arriving to my work address. I am sulking.

So, sympathy is neeeded today people, and feel free to share your pearls of wisdom and rescue remedies with me.

The problem with boys...

At one stage or another they manage to sneak right into your head! I've been seeing D for about ten weeks now and all has been nice and chilled, no stresses really. But then comes the moment when you realise you are starting to get just a weeny bit closer to them than you had planned. Suddenly you feel slightly vulnerable and open to pains of the heart, and I hate this part.

I don't see me and him being together for a long time for various reasons, infact when we met on holiday in ibiza I thought it would just be one night, then just a holiday romanace, then just one meeting back in London and it's just gone on from there. Long phone calls and facebook messaging in the day. I don't really know where the ten weeks have gone but suddenly here we are, and I think I like him. Only I'm scared to like him because to be honest I can just see heartbreak in the future if 'liking' starts to happen.

Saying goodbye to an old friend

I wasn't in work yesterday, instead I was back up Derby for the funeral of my friend. My friend was only 29 when he died two weekends ago. I'm still so sad today and I just can't get it out of my head. The church was packed out, people were standing at the back. He was well loved and so many people were devastated to say goodbye. His coffin was carried out at the end of the service to N-Trance Set You Free, it was so emotional and I hope he has been set free from the troubles of life.

It makes you realise just how lucky you are, and how amazing your friends are. So many people who loved him all came together to remember him and comfort each other, I just wish he could have been there too. I will never forget seeing so many grown men cry, it just broke my heart. Broke my heart for him and everything he will never get to do, broke my heart for his family and broke my heart for all of his friends who have lost a little piece of themselves with him. He was a good lad with a kind heart and he didn't deserve to be taken so young.

We forget how precious life is. I only saw him three weeks ago when I last went home, and no one could ever have known it would have been the last time.

Life is not for wasting, but i think we all do waste our lives away from time to time, in situations we are not happy in, in jobs we dislike and in relationships that are no good for us. I am determined from now on to spend less time worrying about things that don't matter, and more time making sure I'm loving every minute of life and grabbing every opportunity and taking every chance by the hands.

RIP my friend xxxx

I passed!!!

Finally, after four attempts I am now the holder of a full valid UK driving license. Happy is not the word. I much less nervous this time, the rescue remedy seemed to do the trick. Also the examiner had a lovely soothing voice and was nice and friendly, unlike some of the horrors I've had before.

I got four minors, three of which were for driving a little too slowly. Infact when the test finished the examiner said his only complaint was that I drove like a granny sometimes. I think i was just being so cautious I didn't want anything to catch me out. Granny driving ha, that made me giggle.

The other minor was on my reverse round a corner. As I was doing the manouver a car approached me from behind, and then a huge lorry turned into the road. I paniced a little and swung out too wide, but managed to correct it. I even managed to do my parrelel park perfectly.

I;m just so happy, I could have kissed the examiner when he told me. All the blood sweat and tears, and thousands of pounds, has finally paid off.

Toot toot!

Driving test nerves

They say third time lucky right? Well try fourth. Yes, that's right folks I'm about to take driving test number four on Saturday morning. To say I'm nervous would be an understatement. I don't know how anyone can say something gets easier with experience, as all my driving test experiences so far have resulted in failure. Hardly confidence building?

My main problem is nerves. I can drive perfectly well when it is just my instructor and I in the car, but as soon I as get in the car on T-day all the symptoms of nerves get the better of me. Trembling legs, clammy hands, blank mind and deafness. Yes I get it bad. Oh god, I'm getting it now just thinking about Saturday. Oh god.

So, on the day nerves always overcome me and I make a stupid mistake. I've never had more than four minors on a test, it's always one stupid major that gets me. Last test I was so nervous I didn't even notice I had made the mistake he failed me on, I was convinced I had passed until he told me.

I have failed on a variety of nervous majors: lane mistake on a roundabout, causing an obstruction (when I stalled in the wrong gear), something to do with a meeting situation and a major on a manoeuvre. I am starting to feel like I should change my name to Maureen and move to Wales.

Luckily I have a secret weapon for this test. Hmm, maybe it is more of a last resort than secret weapon. My housemate Miss Miller says it helped her to pass her test, and The Boy says his mum used to give it to him when he got upset and cried (this, readers, caused me to laugh so much I nearly weed). It's RESCUE REMEDY to the, er, rescue.

Apparently four drops of this elixir will restore my inner calm and help me feel at ease in stressful situations. I decided to give it a test-run before my driving lesson tonight but accidental squeezed way to much onto my tongue. Not wanting to fall asleep at the wheel I panicked and rinsed my mouth out, so I'm not to sure if I have felt the true effects. Maybe a little bit more than normal? Or maybe a little bit less. However. I did find everything quite funny today, and didn't even care when my instructor was 25 minutes late for the lesson. Managed to do all my maneuvers just fine as well.

Would be interested to hear how many attempts it took you to pass? Keep your fingers crossed for me. If I fail this test my theory will most likely run out before I can get another slot, then it will be back to square one again and I don't think I can take that.

Oh god......

Extreme relaxation

Can there be anything more delicious than a lazy sunday with no commitments? I said goodbye to D at about midday as he headed off for sunday lunch with the family, and since then I have done nothing. Sod all. Absolutley nada. I have not even got dressed properly, and why should I? I have watched T4, read the papers and wasted a little more time on facebook. It has been the perfect day. The last few months have been so busy: most weekends spent out of London, and those spent here have mainly been disgustingly hungover. So here is to sober sunday's and extreme relaxation.

Top websites for sunday relaxtion:

Sunday Times: Absolutley essential. Although I would much rather have the paper in my hands that would mean going to the shop. Which in turn would mean getting dressed. Which in turn would mean leaving the flat. This is against the ethos of sober sunday's extreme relaxation programme.

News of the World: More essential sunday reading, required to fill in the gaps left by the Times - trash gossip. Love it.

Facebook: How many delightful hours can be wasted here stalking old school aqaintences and ex-lovers.

Jamie Oliver recipies: Who needs to buy cookery books these days when eveything you need in online. I'm more of a Gordon Ramsay fanto be honest, but I love the selection of recipies on Jamie's site. And a sober sunday is the perfect time to spend the afternoon cooking.

The Superficial: Celebrity commentary. In my oppinion superior to Perez Hilton. Hilarious and catty.

Stylefinder: I love this. My best shopping companion and source of inspiration.

youTube: My final essential website. When you have run our of news to read, clothes to buy and celebrities to laugh at there is youTube. Any song from your childhood you can think of can be found here. Episodes of America's Next Top Model for those unlucky souls, like me, who still only have terrestrial television. And of course funny videos of other people's misfortune just like this - lord only knows what she was doing!