OTTOLEGHI

One of my girlfriends went into Ottoleghi off Kensington Church Street today to buy her lunch. Peaches and speck with orange blossom, figs with pecorino and honey, crushed new potatoes with horseradish and sorrel, Jerusalem artichokes with lemon and sage... as she ordered a couple of their delicious orange and pistachio biscotti to dunk in her afternoon tea, Jason Orange from Take That walked in... star struck she stood aside to listen out for what a super star has for lunch on a Monday... 'HiyaLuv' he said to the girl behind the meringues...'You got anything I can take home and microwave?'
Very disappointing Jason.. You can take the lad out of the north but you can't take the north out of the lad.

London Marathon

I have never been to watch a marathon before, and today was no different. I like running them, but the thought of scanning 35,000 people to try and catch a glimpse of Gordon Ramsay just doesn't appeal. Instead, in homage to the great race, I entered my first cross country run in Hampshire. 3 stiles, a ford, and a dairy farm later I finished just behind an old man (pictured). I ran the 11K in 57 minutes which was OK but I had a few issues with my walkman, wearing too many layers and nearly choking on a jelly baby.
When I got home I relaxed with a tea and a copy of The Sunday Times Rich List to discover that a guy I had relations with is on the Young Millionaires list. He shares 20th place, squeezed between Cheryl Cole and Katie Melua. The earth didn't exactly move between us, but perhaps if he had been squeezed next to someone like the artist know as Prince and his 250 millions I would have made the house quake myself.

TOP GEAR

I just went to the Harvest petrol station on Goldhawk Road (not to be confused with The Harvester restaurant please) to jet wash my dusty old car. In front of me, in his Ferrari, was the guy from Top Gear, not the main guy and not the one that nearly died and is small, but the other one. Why would you jet wash if you had a Ferrari? Wouldn't you be valet all the way? Anyway I watched (and snapped) him as he washed. He must have bought the cheap foam brush and rinse program for £2 but he only used the rinse bit. I don't think I would really want to use a scuzzy old foaming broom on my Ferrari either. He put down the rinse rod and started to walk towards me..... Oh no, had he seen me snapping him with my camera? As he came to my car door, I was too nervous to undo my window as I knew I would press the electric roof button by mistake and make a fool of myself, so I opened my door instead. 'Just wanted to let you know that the machine is making some very strange noises and the pressure keeps coming and going, I think there is something wrong with it, but you might be OK.' said Mr Top Gear. I looked at him and thought, you're actually quite cute in real life. 'Have you finished already'? I replied. Why didn't I say something flirty like 'You couldn't help me put the coin in the slot could you'? You always think of these things too late (luckily, in my case)... Anyway after a good scrub I came home, googled 'man from top gear' and up he came, JAMES MAY. Does anyone know him? Is 47 too old?

ELECTRICS OFF

Something has happened to the upstairs at The Electric, its like someone has forgotten to top up the electric key and all the lights have gone out.
I went there last night for a Whiskey Sour and my drink was the only good thing about it. The glace cherry floating on top was the most stylish thing about the night, and, keeping it fruity, the only electric current I could feel was in the whiskey. A blond monstrosity with a spray tan that made her leather jacket look soft came up to the bar and stood next to me. She asked for a Martini. 'What kind, Vodka or Gin?' said the barman. 'Yes please', was the reply. 'No, Vodka OR Gin Martini?' said the bar man. 'Oh let me go and ask my mate.'...and off she fake boob bounced... 'Crystal, a vodka or a gin martini? she squawked. 'What?' said Crystal, 'Oh, make it a rum and coke then.'
A right couple of dirty martini's they were.... and she held her knife like a pen when she was eating..... I was so disappointed with my night I had to come home and have a roll up, dark times!

Amber Stephens

I have been meaning to write this vignette (or will try to keep it vignette) as a way of venting my agro tale of Amber-gate. My friend that's a boy texted me soon after new year, writing just 2 words AMBER STEPHENS.... He must have sent this by accident, I thought. I called him, to be met with a very hostile and defensive tone. 'Tell me what you know about Amber Stephens?' he fired. 'Nothing, never heard of her'... Many heated minutes later and he simply would not not let it lie, convinced that I knew something about this mysterious name AMBER STEPHENS.
I eventually got off the phone, telling him that if he wanted to fall out over this, then so be it. I DON'T, DIDN'T, DO NOT KNOW WHO AMBER STEPHENS is, was, or who she would eventually turn out to be. I immediately Facebook'd, bebo'd,linkedin'd, twitter'd and bitter'd... and all I got was Amber Stephens author of 'The Secret Diary of a Sex Addict'. The plot thickened.
Weeks later, my friend that's a boy was still convinced that I was behind Ambergate.....
He finally divulged that Amber was a girl on a dating website that had been messaging him. She told him that she had great pins (with photos to prove) and that she wanted to be tied up with those plastic tie things (the ones you use to trellis your roses), be locked in the back of a van and kidnapped. Not sure what this says about me, but MFTABoy was convinced that it was me, Charrington alias Stephens....
I made him send a message to the adventurous Amber while we were together in the hope that she would reply and he would finally believe that I was not, am not, could not be, Amber Stephens..... I said he could tie me up with plastic ties just to make doubly sure that I couldn't sneak upstairs and email from another computer.... anyway she never replied to his email asking her 'What books do you like reading?' Quelle surprise yawn yawn.... So perhaps I will always remain Alias Amber in his eyes.

Chapati

Occasionally I have lunch in The Central Gudwara (Sikh Temple) near me. It is like stepping into India for an hour. With shoes off and Pashmina on, I just turn up, bow to the Guru Grath Sahib, make a donation, and then take a Thali tray and eat delicious curry and rice on the floor. The lovely curry making ladies of Punjab are always asking me to come in on a Sunday night and help prepare the Chapati... so last night I finally did. I had a go at every Chapati making station although I was mainly left to slather butter on them once cooked. I told them that I was being quite stingy with the butter as I didn't want anyone to get fat. Mahtab (meaning moonlight) said that was OK and that everyone is bery bery healthy conscious these days.

Cock Block

I was meant to be going out in East London last night but my East partners blew me out, so ended up having the most delicious pint of prawns and even more taste sensational red mullet risotto with gremolata (chopped rosemary, garlic and lemon zest) at my usual.
I was talking to a friend of a friend about the lack of chatting up that goes on at The Anglesea, when he told me something very interesting. He said there is a curse on pulling at the pub, it's called 'Cock Block'. This is absolutely terrible I thought, I must break the curse, unblock the cock as it were. I had had some eye love with a handsome looking guy in a preppy cashmere jumper on the table next to us so thought I would make it my nights work to at least talk to him.
He went out to use his phone, so I took the opportunity... grabbed my phone to my ear... went outside, and pretended to have a phone conversation and catch his eye. Then, (it pains me to tell you) my phone rang. THE END.

Yoga

There was a girl handing out leaflets at Shepherds Bush tube station the other day. Normally I swerve anyone offering free calls to Kazakhstan, paint ball bargains from a camouflaged trestle table, or 'Can I ask you a question about your hair' people. The girl was offering a free yoga session, so, in the name of the blog, I took it and had my free session tonight.
The yoga centre was on Uxbridge Road, on the top floor, above a Caribbean fast food restaurant. The room was about the same size as my bedroom i.e. big enough for a double bed and a few nicknack's. There were 7 yoga mats, 5 women, 1 German teacher and me.... The music consisted of a small speaker floating out a female voice singing a 'smooth jazz' version of Bob Marley hits.... There was less of a 'natural mystic flowing through the air', and more of a curry goat and roti .
The lesson was actually quite fun, but the Yogi did say 'its not a competition' at one point when everyone was relaxing in child's pose and I was silently counting myself down from a 2 minute plank that I set myself.... Now that I know it's possible to practice Yoga in a room the size of a postage stamp I think I will just do it in my bedroom from now on, and then I can salute the sun shining out of my competitive arse as much as I like.

Christ I'm An Idol

I was out for dinner with some pals last night when we came up with an idea for a religious reality TV show. The show would be called "CHRIST I'M AN IDOL"and the 3 judges would consist of Doubting Thomas, The Arch Bishop of Canterbury and Cliff Richard.
Everyone would get an opportunity to be resurrected if they had a Baptism of Fire and got voted off in the first round.
The follow up series would be called I'M AN ALTER BOY GET ME OUT OF HERE! Or we have working titles - IM AN ALTER BOY GET IT OUT OF ME.... and BRITONS GOT TOLERANCE. Hopefully the Sunday Times would do a nice peace on us although I must give most of the credit to 'my pals' for this show, if it takes off, as I was too busy with the spirits.

WAPPING GREAT DAY OUT

I cycled to WAPPING today to visit the most brilliant art gallery/restaurant The Wapping Project. It is absolutely the coolest place.. this outfit however, that I witnessed somewhere between London and Tower Bridges, is not.

MAN AT THE BAR

I went to my most delicious and nutritious favourite pub last night and was recognised by a guy at the bar who knew my name. I (w)racked my brain as to where on earth I might know him from.. had we snogged? or worse, shagged? If so, I couldn't remember it.. which is strange because I usually never forget a face (especially if I've sat on it). JOKE!
Anyway, he reminded me that we had met at the pub last summer... that I hadn't come in through the conventional route of a door, but had done an extreme gate vault over the wall. 'Ah yes' I said, 'I was wearing my short shorts and we talked about where you should go on holiday'. 'I don't remember what you were wearing' he said...WRONG Answer.... how could he forget these pins, does he not realise I'm an athlete? Anyway he was wearing a Rolex Explorer, I'm a sucker for a man in a nice watch. I asked if I could try it on and I fell in love.. with the watch obviously.... his girlfriend was sitting next to him all this time looking extremely tick tocked off, with a watch face like thunder. Opps.

Brazilians

If you can imagine a piece of red hot coal touching your skin, that is what it feels like to experience laser. Every red hot flash lasts a split second, but its a very very hot split second. I had my third treatment on my bikini line last night, and never need to wax, shave, cream or pluck again! As much as I miss my Iranian wax-er and some of the crazy positions she would get me in, I doubt she misses my foot smudged marks on her white walls and ceiling...
I thought there would be nothing nicer than being permanently well groomed, but now I am not sure. Whether single, sexual or in winter hibernation I thought it would be great to strip and let rip at any given moment . But its a bit like a tattoo.. its too permanent, too forever-y. What will a well groomed flangetta look like when I am 60? What if the fashion changes and the 70s bush comes back in... I'm plUCKED!! You can have a tattoo removed but this part of the Brazilian rain forest has been lost forever.

The Electric

I went to the Electric on Thursday night, to be met by girls in bunny outfits handing out chocolate vodka. All the tables had been pushed back and everyone was rocking out to some amazing old school tunes... A girl next to me at the bar ordered a Long Island Ice Tea...and the barman looked at her as though she had ordered a Sloe Comfortable Screw Against The Wall....and told her 'I'm afraid we don't make those'... I miss all those 80s cocktail names and tried to order a Slippery Nipple but got the same reaction. Bore off with Espresso Martini and Bellini we want Sex On The Beach again. Anyway I got talking to a friend of a friend, a boy called John.. turns out he is running the Berlin Marathon in September 'Me too' I said.. and we had geeky drunken chats while dancing for ages. I didn't fancy him at all, he had a Hollister t shirt on and an England sweat band around his wrist...Anyway as we were getting our coats to leave he gave me his number, insisting we should get together in Soho House Berlin 'darling'...Anyway unbeknown to me his girlfriend was absolutely screwing, like not sloe comfortable screwing but... literally stop talking to my boyfriend screwing... I told her to calm down and that me and her bloke were having innocent running chats... No Screaming Orgasms for him that night!

NOT swimming The Channel

I have had a fascination with swimming the Channel for about a year now. Its 21 miles, as the crow flies, and the average time it takes is between 10 - 20 hours. It took David Walliams 10 hours 34 minutes.. and 1 more Wiki fact.. less than 1000 people have ever completed it! There is no doubt that I would do it but for my terrifying fear of the sea, slight obstacle....When I am in the sea I have to be able to touch the ground, and any passing seaweed or dark patches of water send me into silent screaming. I've thought about hypnosis, but it will be a waste of 'going under', I get the fear that a shark is on my tail when I'm swimming lengths in a kidney shaped pool. I recently read about a guy called Dan Martin who is about to embark on a Global Triathlon, which includes swimming the Atlantic. Setting off from Nova Scotia with nothing more than his speedos, ginger beard and goggles he is going to swim 8 hours a day for about 4 months until he reaches France. He is going to wear a shark repellent anklet and won't be swimming at dawn or dusk (shark feeding time)...I don't know if Portuguese Man-of-War can kill you but now I've just seen a picture of one I know they will be joining me in the pool next time too. I'm such a WEED!

Paloma Faith

I went to see Paloma Faith play at Shepherds Bush Empire on Wednesday night. We had an OK dinner at the Princes Victoria Pub on Uxbridge Road, great building, great wine list but the prawns were all head and no body...more shrunk than shrimp. I arrived at the gig a little hungry and desperate for a pee after filling up on fizzy water. Waiting in the queue, the Paloma Faithfuls were all dressed up and very over excited to see their glamorous idol. The Faithfuls in front of me were chatting away about their favourite songs,the 5 star reviews and what she might be wearing. If their specialised subject on Master Mind was Paloma Faith, these guys would score seriously high, but the general knowledge round however.... 'Have you heard of that band The Cure?'said Faithful 1. 'No' said Faithful 2. 'Oh they were this band, like from years ago, the bloke in it, he had like mad hair and stuff and lip stick... I only know him coz I've got like really old brothers'. Boys Don't Cry but I sure felt like it.

Venus

I've had an average evening watching Wonders of the Solar System presented by Brian Cox.. . Brian has a permanent smile on his face, and, as well as being a particle physicist, used to be the the guitarist in D:Ream of "Things Can Only Get Better" fame.. I could go on but Wikipedia might do me for copyright. I made and ate a tasty butternut squash, celeriac and sage risotto.. the anni version.. without using any butter or cheese, and then read a story to my flat mates son Frank (aged 7). Frank is going through a faze of constantly putting his hands down his PJ's... So tonight I said "Will you please take your hand out of your PJ's... How would you feel if I did that all day?"... "Good" he said. Unbelievable! Wait 'til I tell his Mum.

Psychic Accountant

I am lucky enough to have a psychic for an accountant at work. She heals mind body and soul AND pays my invoices. I'm not sure that she predicts me a pay rise but today she saw me getting married!! I was just sitting at my desk writing a boring report intertwined with looking at hotels in New York when she said.. "I can see that you are going to get married in the next 2 to 3 years". Wow.. tell me more! Apparently my dress is off white, has straps, and my wedding cake is chocolate with lots of cream... I am getting married in bare feet, which saves on Louboutins, and pays for more cream. My engagement ring will be handed down from my husbands grandmother, or someone close to him, and may need adjusting... mmm adjusting.. an additional rock perhaps? I was loving every minute until BARBADOS ... I am getting married in Barbados... Am I marrying Michael Winner? Or Simon Cowell? Or are Sandals Holidays doing deals on wedding packages? I have been told that I must tell the Universe what it is that I wish for, so I might just tweak the location to another Carribbean Island called Parrot Cay and then I can invite Bruce Willis.

Best Western

I love Best Western Hotels... There, I said it. I stayed in one last night in a village near Brighton. I went there for one of my best friends wedding... and it was an altogether delightful experience. I tried to book a boutique 'contemporary' seafront hotel - wallpaper on one wall, suede head boards and fair trade coffee nonsense but they all make you stay for 2 nights of which we couldn't spare. The only other solution, suggested by one of my usually most stylish friends was to hire a Hummer to take us back to London.....the Best Western was starting to look like Claridges! Anyway my room was a dream, a mint green colour scheme with matching cushions, curtains and head board... a huge bath with Best Western shampoo and shower cap...... and the absolute clincher for me.. a kettle, highlights hot chocolate, 2 packets of shortbread and a mini bar courvoisier. While we waited for our taxi people were flocking to the Carvery... I watched, as a couple of ladies, clearly carrying a bit of extra timber, asked for every type of meat.... leaving very little room for onion rings - I couldn't fault it, everything was 'very well done'.. The puddings were under glass cabinets, it was like a 1970s pudding museum with profiteroles, fruit fools, lemon meringue pie and black cherry gateaux. I checked out this morning filling my pockets with Fox's Glacier Mints from the mahogany reception. There are 280 Best Westerns, all unique with there own charm and character... 1 down I say!

Quiz Night

It was quiz night in the school hall on Thursday night, and I actually got invited! More for entertainment value than contribution value... We ate a very bland veggie curry, and when I asked for some salt to try and give it a bit of flavour I was told that schools don't have salt and aren't allowed to add it....they should have put BYO salt on the invite not BYO booze. The first round was to name 6 very obscure flags... my team got them all bar one, a blue flag with a Union Jack flag in one corner and a sheep coat of arms in the other ..... my incredibly lucky guess.. The Falkland Islands was right! A flock of black birds is a 'murder', a group of chicks is a 'clutch' not 'Wags' as we put. Then there was the tasting round... I excelled at this, name the flavour crisp, fresh herb, cheese and chocolate.... not only did I give lime and chili flavour for the chocolate.. I knew the brand was Montezuma's AND the cocoa solids content.. surely an extra point! Then the bone of contention question... Who played Hannibal Lecter? The answer is actually both Anthony Hopkins and Brian Cox, Brian played him in the original film Manhunter.. so we (well not me) naturally put both names down ... the answer came as being Anthony with no mention of Brian.. UPROAR! Our markers tried to penalise us by giving us half a point! The rhyming slang round.. apple and pears, skin and blister, whistle and flute... "These questions are too BRIGHT AND BREEZY" I shouted out...Oops, was that really me? Unfortunately yes as everyone turned and gave me daggers. Would have been OK if I hadn't got one PETE TONG!

Tindersticks

I got a call last night from 'He who doth not want to be named' HE for short, to say that if I wanted something to blog about I could go with him to see Tindersticks at Shepherds Bush Empire. HE had obviously been blown out by someone, hence the last minute invite, and I had no idea who Tindersticks were, but for the love of BLog I said yes. TINDERSTICKS are a band from Nottingham (don't you love Wikipedia). The main man is called Stuart Staples and he sounds a bit like Leonard Cohen/Nick Cave and he has the biggest lamb chop side burns you've seen since Elvis. I spent the first half an hour of the gig thinking he had accidentally left his blue tooth ear piece in. Anyway I had absolutely no idea what to expect. If HE had said they are America's equivalent to Chaz and Dave I would have believed him. But no, this was 7 unbelievably talented musicians, proper incredible musicians playing more instruments than Wikipedia could care to mention... the vibraphonist was hot (wedding ring).... clocked it in the bar afterwards).

Blog Blunder

I am such a putz. A few pals told me I should take the plunge and post my blog link on FB for all to see. Last night, as my bath was running,I did just that. I then casually sauntered to the bathroom, dipped a toe in and thought FUCK! It wasn't that the water was too hot, but that I suddenly remembered I had made friends with my Dutch lover from GSoulMates on FB a few days before we met......and having taken the p slightly (i can't bring myself to highlight the mean things I said, but bald, he drives a hairdryer and NO were 3)...I literally pounced on my computer and deleted the link from my status... but shit it, someone had already seen it and commented, so what if he had clocked it too, within the 2 minutes before deletion? wow deletion is a word?... I had no idea how to delete a friend but needs did must, and I have never been so speedy at working something techie out... he was gone, removed, de friend ed... I feel terrible but will feel even more terrible if he reading this.... SORRY IF you are, last time I mention you I promise and the white BMW with 18" rims probably is really cool! Anyway I said on our date that I had liked Spurs since Vinnie Jones played for them, and you politely reminded me that Vinnie played for Wimbledon not Spurs.. oops.
Blog blunder no.1 of many I'm sure.

Botox

I went on a lovely family outing last Sunday. We went to a cast and crew screening of Nanny McPhee (small c big P) 2, and it was brilliant. On the drive home I realised there was now nothing between me and my internet dutch lover date at 3pm, other than a quick brush down to remove any pop corn kernels caught in my bra.... While we sat in traffic my sister decided that with less than an hour before my first ever blind date, she would use this as an opportunity to discuss my cosmetic surgery needs. It was like a doctor circling every pimple, dimple, crease and crevice on your face and body with a felt tip pen. Coming at you with a pair of secateurs all under one of those magnified mirrors with lights. 'Don't you think you should try botox?' she said. 'I mean it's not your fault, its from all the running' she continued. 'It's just that someone needs to be the guinea pig, so why not you?'. Apparently I could do with the diagonal line between my eyebrows freezing, my eye wrinkles plumping and reducing and while we have got the felt tip out, the removal of 3 moles, 'Are they spots or moles or what?' digging the sibling scissors in further. I went to my date feeling like a cross between Nanny McPhee, the She Devil with a bit of Worzel thrown in. I did however make it through my date confidently, in daylight, and without so much as a raised eye brow and with neither one of us mentioning the paper bag on my head.

Howard from The Wirral

I saw a poster the other morning, It was dangling from a bike lock unit (i have no idea what those things you tie bikes to are called??). It was inviting women cyclists to come and visit 'Dr Bike' for a full servicing for FREE! I free servicing, ooh Doctor, yes please. So i cycled to the 'under the Westway' location and was met by a gazebo and 2 hunky guys oiling some chains. The taller of the 2 Dr Bikes said he would be about half an hour and suggested that I go and wait in the leisure centre next door. I asked him if he knew whether the coffee was decent there and he gave a detailed response about how the coffee was motor-way service station standard, needed 6 sugars and that i was better off having tea. I said I would rather cycle to the Deli in Notting Hill to get one, and offered him one. A machiato for Dr Bike and a skinny Cap for me. Howard aka Dr Bike proceeded to spend nearly an hour on my extremely posh bike... Kensington and Chelsea Council, who funded the day, were probably trying to encourage the local estate mums and their bikes out of their high rises, not girls with £1000 Marins from Brakenbury Village... Howard was an absolute perfectionist. 3 pairs of latex gloves later he had tweaked my cables, polished my chain, put spokey dokes on my wheels (remember those!) and been very generous with his lube.... He mentioned the word lube a couple of times during our bike chats, and I am sorry but it is really embarrassing.... all bike shop people say it.. LUBE LUBE LUBE... its gross.. I literally can't say it.. i will say oil, i need it/stuff/thingy for my chain, point at it ,anything... but I will not say the word. He then took my bike seat off to check the seat 'post'... and then he greased it... it was soo embarrassing... i forgot what I was saying I was so put off my train of thought.... and you know when you know someone is reading your mind... I know he knew I was thinking willy thoughts.... ARh, poor Howard from the Wirral being subjected to a morning with a pervy minded girl and her well lubed hybrid.

Fat without a GSOH

So I finally did it... I am no longer an internet date virgin.... I arranged to meet my Dutch lover under Hammersmith Bridge at 3pm... I was early, but still, he should have been earlier. There was a busker under the bridge singing Quanta La Mera, how romantic I thought. 15 minutes later my busker friend was still playing Quanta La Mera on a loop.. great catalogue, and I was still waiting. Great, I can go home and have a tea and read the papers.. hurrah. I got half way home when he called to say he had just arrived. "I am sorry I am so late" said a dutch voice. "I didn't check my watch whilst I was traveling"he said. TRAVELING.. who refers to cycling along the river as TRAVELING... You are soo I.T. it's all wrong... I let him suffer Quanta La Mera while I turned around and TRAVELED back to the meeting point. When I saw him, he had a sweet smile, but NO... well as NO as you can be without giving someone a chance to even speak before ruling them out as being a potential love. We went to a great pub, and I drank a lovely honey dew ale and told him that Ernest Hemmingway and Dylan Thomas used to drink there... I like to give the impression that I read even though I don't. I took 2 amazing espresso chocolate truffles to have 1 each, but decided to drink quickly, go home and have them both for myself. I am kind of glad I have lost my internet date cherry, but having just spat the pip out I am looking forward to going back to the old fashioned way of boy meets girl... what ever that is... but that's what makes it exciting.

Scientology

Oh my god, nearly got GOT by a Scientology yesterday. There were some girls on a stand outside the tube station asking the public to have their stress levels tested on a 1950s looking stress monitor device. I would never normally have stopped, but in the name of the blog I thought it might make a good story in my otherwise humdrum day. I had to sit down and hold onto 2 electrode things... relax, and think of things in my life that make me feel stressed. 'Sitting in-front of Shepherds Bush Green at rush hour' I thought and the needle went whizzing up the stress o meter. Ok so I thought about money, lack of, and up it went again, and my biological clock, whoop, off the scale it went! The theory of overcoming ones stress is in a book by an American dude called L. Ron Hubbard... Ron reckons that our minds are split into our 'analytical mind,' the part that stores memories like files in a computer, and our 'reactive mind,' (the naughty part), that they say prevents people from being more ethical, more aware, happier and more sane, oh and can prevent allergies and sex deviations too apparently. I wonder if it helps get you sex, in order for you to find out if it stops you deviating? The goal of DIANETICS - 'The Modern Science of Mental Health,' as it is known, (not Callanetics the 80s fitness craze), is to remove the so called 'reactive mind'. My very sweet 'instant therapist on the Green' was selling Rons chunky book for £13. Apparently it has sold millions of copies in zillions of languages too.. so why a trestle table on Shepherds Bus Green I think to myself.....I have since discovered that it is practiced by followers of Scientology... no mention of that while I was squeezing my electrods.

LIFE COACH

I went to a LIFE COACH talk the other night. It was held at a private members club on South Molton Street. I shouldn't be too mean about it as they did give me 3 months free membership (not that private then), its . You can usually gauge the level of ostentatious lack of style of these haunts by their loo design, and in this instance it was off the chain. Quilted padded doors that resembled the back of a leather sofa, and those annoying taps that turn themselves on automatically every time you move. The talk was on HOW TO GIVE THE PERFECT INTERVIEW and was given by a lovely lady, a 'you can take the girl out of Essex' type, wearing a silky sleeveless blouse that can only be found in NEXT, with arms that needed covering, and fish nets. She read from a script and lets face it, we can all google 'top 10 tips on giving a good interview'. Luckily I had read the E invite to see that it clearly stated in small writing that it was a PAY bar, so while all the PA type girls were ordering their Cosmos and Caipi's I stuck to the cucumber water.. it was fun watching them trying not to look surprised when their, its only a Monday night, bills were bought over... We learned that body language accounts for 90% of how people perceive you... You mean years of trawling through the FT for show has been a waste of time? We learned that we must tilt our head slightly during the interview, I can imagine my potential employer asking me 'Do you need to see a physio? She told us to keep eye contact for at least 10 seconds when answering a question, I would have to use my fingers for this which might prove distracting. She said that FEAR stands for False Evidence Appearing Real... and that under no circumstances should we be late for an interview.... £15 to find out that turning up 10 minutes late for an interview doesn't mean you are busy or cool. When I asked her how you answer about having any date gaps in your CV, she said , 'You can say you were traveling'! Yeah, my 2 week trip to Goa ended in 6 months... that's really impressive. So from now on GOOGLE is my new LIFE COACH.

Go with the FLO POOL

I had my first swimming lesson in a bout 25 years yesterday, but not in any old swimming pool.. i swam in a pool called a FLO POOL, where you swim in a tiny plunge pool, against a current. There are mirrors everywhere so you can watch your style, or in my case, watch everything wobble and see the air bubbling out of your nose as you breath out under water...V strange. My amazing international swimming coach lady pressed a button and the current commenced. She twisted a twisty thing to make the current stronger and I started swimming faster and faster. It was utterly exhausting, and only a week after a marathon was probably a bit more than gentle exercise. I am hooked already... and can feel my swimmers shoulders busting out of my summer spaghetti vests just thinking about it, but hey at least I won't get marathon black toes with my new found sport. If fact the only downsides are having to keep a check on my bikini line and dealing with goggle panda eyes for the rest of the day.

Fat with a GSOH

I am in a terrible quandary. I have been all talk on Guardian Soul Mates for soo long. I treat it like FB, i just cruise around and stalk but don't actually make any contact.. My first message was from a girl called Donna who said she was BI CURIOUS, liked my look, and had a camera and mic if I wanted to chat.... GREAT!
Then I get a guy who tells me he has just finished reading a book called The Black Book by Pamuk about how people cannot ever really be themselves. " Is it good enough simply to try to be true to oneself most of the time?" was his question to me.. DRY! And he had a terrible under bite.
Anyway I exchanged a few emails with this guy 'who prefers brunettes', works in IT, is bald and from Holland.. oh and did i mention that he has a paunch? He drives an MX5 which he tries to excuse, but NOTHING excuses a hair dryer... and goes on to say how he would now buy a Z4 (in white, with 18" rims).... and I am thinking ... is that a joke? I literally don't know... but I think I am starting to forgive the MX5.. He wants to meet on Sunday but I am freaking out and haven't replied.. Oh what to do.....

Blogging for the sake of blogging

I have been trying to start this blog shenanigans for far too long, always finding an excuse to put it off... namely for the simple reason of what the hell I am going to blog about. First was coming up with a concept... A MAN HUNT? (oh god what does that say!)....So boys and anything that will ween me off and distract me from wasting time and stalking on FaceBook. I decided to call the blog DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSIE, inspired by the film Julie and Julia about a girl in New York who decides to cook a recipe from a famous cook book every day for a year and blog about it, I thought hey I can combine finding a husband with writing, GREAT, and go on an internet date with a boy every day for 365 days.....I know.... it sounds way more SLOG than BLOG! Then I thought, OK call it one date per week.... All I needed to do was take some hot shots of me for Guardian Soul Mates, and I would be away! Then my friend that's a boy said ... Forget it Suze... what does Desperately Seeking Susie mean anyway? As if you will go on that many dates, you joined 6 months ago, and you haven't been on 1... JUST START WRITING. And so thanks to my friend that's a boy here I am... coming live and direct, with a tropical mix of good bad and very ugly.