Went to Eastbourne again today and saw the most beautiful of flats which is sadly beyond our price range. Absolutely gorgeous it was, lovely Victorian, high ceilings, stunning kitchen and my god the location! We left it squealing like stuck pigs convinced that atlast we had found it. It was only after we started to think a bit more clearly did we realise that it was perhaps folly to pay out so much for a weekend retreat but my god it was fabulous.
We went to one riffy joint this morning which was horrible, when we left I noticed a flea on my hand! Yuk, it was cheap though.
We stopped in Brighton on the way back for another thai supper, not a patch on last week's but wonderful ambience.

I came to work singing at the top of my voice like a lark aloft to Everything but the girl's old album 'Eden'. I was confidantly squealing out a number going "yaahalaall" to the words I didn't quite remember and it made me think of all the songs you can remember and all the things you can't.
For example, I am sure I couldn't sing one of their songs all the way through now, but stick the album along and I'll be laughing.
Do you think if life was set to music there would be little or no Alzheimer's? I would suggest to the care homes up and down the country to pipe music to the elderly and make every conversation with them a song. I would encourage dancing also, I am sure equity could help out, afterall, is it not so that for every actor employed there are hundred more out of work shuffling along Broadway? I am sure it would make the old folk's last few years that much more enjoyable and that much more lucid.
Talking of the twightlight years, the ladyfriend and I are off to Eastbourne tomorrow to see some more flats, first appointment is at 11am, so it's up early in the morning and easy on the booze tonight.

I have just found a chuckle on the internet, I was looking for a picture of Carol Channing (don't ask) and stumbled across a hollywood looky likey site Click here and have a look Carol Channing is white and on this site is a living and breathing black Carol Channing looky likey! fabulous.
They do have several passable Chers and a very good Joan Crawford. Take a look.

Got to stop the Ebay now it's become an addiction. Last night I unintentionally walked away with a, I quote " NOEL COWARD LEGENDS OF 20TH CENTURY (22 TRACK CD BEAUTIFULLY PACKAGED IN HARD COVER BOOKLET WITH IN DEPTH BIOGRAPHY WITH PHOTOS, INC MAD DOGS, MRS WORTHINGTON, PRIVATE LIVES AND OTHERS, EXCELLENT CONDITION)" for £2.90 which is I know a bargain but I didn't realise I'd win it.
I was a trifle bored at work last night and had a dip in ebay and thought the auction had days to run, then going on to the internet at 9.30pm to webcam with the boys (what a farce that turned out to be) up popped a message saying I'd won the auction! Gulp.
It was a close shave in the end, because I had not read the postage details and it turns out that the cd is in Maltby Le Marsh, Lincs and not Singapore so it's easy on the postage and a snip but it's the end of ebay for me and my trigger happy fingers. I look forward to receiving the package and, in the words of Noel Coward, I hope I have "a warm hand on my opening".

I have bought a webcam, it's a very strange experience. There is a short delay from doing something to seeing it on the screen and it feels most perculiar. I've got one so that the ladyfriend and I can converse with our beautiful boys on the costa del sol and be quids in on the telephone bill. The intial outlay of £40 should - I have ensured the ladyfriend - pay dividends in the future.
It's rather good though, I can do little movies and things which I am sure once I get a handle on it will go world wide on the Web, Lola TV! I can do cookery demonstrations, gymnastic displays and indepth interviews with pillars of the community live from my bedroom. Keep 'em peeled for multimedia Lola.

Let's face it, I aint up to manual labour. I awoke this moring as week as a kitten. My calves ached, how and why should they ache from cleaning an oven? The ladfriend and I have decided not to go down to Eastbourne today because the flat that we wanted to see is unavailable to view. It has a tennant problem where clearly they don't want to leave and are therefore making it hard to sell. As we are going to see a flat in the 'Little Chelsea' - get me - on Friday we have decided to skip it today.
We are going to take a mince around Ikea and have a nice lunch in their canteen, pop over to Watford and generally take things free and easy, do as we damn well pleasey. The ladyfriend hit the bottle last night and I can see the bruises this morning so sssshhhh! It's oh so quiet.
Hey, I won the auction on ebay last night and now own the sophia loren and peter sellers lp with 'bangers and mash' on. Joy of all joys.

Just tried to have a conversation over the computer with David and Howard in Spain. It wasn't successful. The ladyfriend walked off in amazement and bewilderment. I know she's thinking, why on earth don't we just pick up the phone, but this is much more fun!
We've got to buy a web cam next so we can wave at each other.
We are off to eastbourne tomorrow, taking the day off work. What luxury! Today I have been working like 'staff'. I have cleaned the oven and all sorts. I am feeling quite depleted.
Four more hours left on an ebay auction and if I win, I shall be the proud owner of a sophia loren record.

My god the things I put myself through. I am sitting in an internet cafe in London, I have just walked out of the singalongabba concert in disgust and bewilderment leaving Lorraine and Kylie in the second row. It's the biggest fleecing I have had since I bought sundried tomatoes from a couple of greeks in wycombe market.
First of all I went in thinking it was going to be like the Sound of Music where they show you the film and put the words underneath...it aint.
Instead, the promoters have employed two unusual men and two half witted tarts to pretend to be Abba. Well, you can imagine my horror. There I am sitting slap bang infront of this freak show with a face of thunder. None of them look vaguely like a member of Abba, Pat Coombes looks more like Bjorn. The costumes are amateur, the whole production looks something like a fairground prize. You know what I mean, a disney character you win on the shoot a duck section for your nephew and the facial details are enlarged and lopsided.
It's nothing more than a holiday rep show only worse. Terrible. I couldn't face it any more. It's the sort of thing hetties lap up and drag queens do so much better.

Going out this evening to see Singalong Abba with Lorraine and her first born Kylie. Should be quite an occasion. I am going to take my camera to get some interesting shots of Agnetha. Yesterday I managed to clock up 18,000 steps, incredible. I have to do 40,000 today and tomorrow to reach my target of 100,000 for the week.
I should imagine I'll do quite a few in the metropolis, there is always a lot of walking involved with public transport.
Mind the gap.

We have just got back from a succesful stay in Eastbourne, we have seen some riffy gaffs today! I have fallen in love with a rather nice flat in a beautiful Victorian house. It's massive and just so very, very. I don't want to get me hopes up though because I don't want my lil ol' heart to be broken just yet.
We drove into Brighton - after viewing another flat which was tiny, the man who inhabited it looked like a battery hen - we popped in for a lovely Thai meal which had the nicest folded napkins and I do declare the nicest green curry I have ever tasted - apart from my own.
I shall knock off now and get fit for tomorrow - Cinders has got to clean the oven - scrub, scrub.

The ladyfriend and I are off down to Eastbourne tonight to stay in a ritzy seafront hotel (get me). We have a few viewings to do in the morning which start at 11am so we thought it best to be in situ rather than driving down through the rush hour. Far better to be scoffing bacon and eggs than sitting listening to some aged DJ telling us that "the time is coming right up to" and all that mundane rubbish they vomit.
I do have a particular disliking of local radio disc jokeys, I include capital radio in there aswell, there is nothing more frightening in my mind than that carbuncle "Doctor" Fox. It's those voices and their interest in banal details of people's lives I can't abide. Their egos amaze me when they are living proof of failure.
It's funny because I love local papers. Wherever the ladyfriend and I go I always buy the local paper, you can learn so much about a place from what jumble sales there are and how much money has been raised for the local hospice.
My artistic skills have been put up on a brilliant website Click here to go to Sorehead, I am at the top! Have a look round his site though, it's very good.

I think my father may be a male model. I was flicking through the local paper, reached the motors section (dull) then out of the corner of my bloodshot eyes I saw a man who I am sure is my father. It was one of those aspirational adverts, nicely photographed, well designed, you know the score. Why do they do those to sell cars, there wasn't a motor in sight. It's a bit like those house adverts where you know they have bulldozed some toxic factory and built luxury apartments and to convince you that you want one they slap some half brained harpy on a billboard with a cappucino. Anyway, I digress, to aquaint you with the situation, I have not really seen my father very much. He lives in the South of France, I saw him briefly just before Christmas last year so I am not too familiar with any major changes in his physical appearance. But, I would like to think I could pick out my father in a line up and that is why I am convinced it is him.
The french are so chic, perhaps it is an everyday occurance to get up from the dinner table and say "that's it I'm off to Jean Paul's for the photoshoot" and that is why I have not been informed of dad's meteoric rise into the world of the small ads.

I have suffered a loss, after going for a walk around the park, I had clocked up in excess of 4,000 steps by 2pm. Then an hour later I had a little look and it had cleared itself and gone to 246! I can only imagine one of my rolls of fat must had flopped over and activated the "CLEAR" switch and gone back to square one.
Somehow between now and sleep I have got to hit 6,000 steps. It aint gonna happen.

I only racked up 4,000 steps yesterday which is "average" - a bit of a kick in the teeth as I would never like to be considered as being average. Apparently 4,000 = Average, 7,000 = good for health and 10,000 = weight loss. So I have got to put a little bit of effort in.
I think I may go for a mince around the park at lunch time. I have got to shift the jelly or the ladyfriend will start being known as the "Chubby chaser".
I am beginning not to trust the Greeks, Easy Jet are pulling a fast one with their claims to being a budget airline. The ladyfriend and I are trying to get out to Spain in May. They can get us out for £40 but want in excess of £100 to get us back. I say where is the sense in that? They trick you like drug pushers to get you hooked on foreign travel then drive you into prostitution when you want more. I say avoid the white line of the runway and you will be a better person, if not a bit limited to a fortnight in Broadstairs.

I am now as happy as a sand boy as I am now the proud owner of a pedometer which I hope will shock me in to getting off my fat lazy arse. I have put on an alarming amount of puppy fat due to my desk bound job and my penchant for the booze. So now I can set a target of steps that I must achieve a day and not go to bed until I have done it. I am working on the principle that walking + less booze = less fat. If it doesn't work than I shall have to blame my metabolism or thyroid gland. It's great, it plays music (if you want it to) whilst you walk and the faster you walk the quicker the tempo. It's quite funny, I was racing along making "Greensleaves" sound like techno. Very funny indeed. I advise all my readers to get one.

You know, people's behaviour away from Belgravia would have you aghast..........we popped into town yesterday, just to see what we could get for £100,000 - well, I have never been so insulted in my life. Our first estate agent - apart from looking like Cleo Laine very much on the downward spiral of drug addiction - basically laughed in our faces. The second estate agents stank of a recently consumed Kentucky Fried Chicken, was staffed by a man who looked like the chap in the Benny Hill Show, an idiot boy with a cold an another man who looked like a pig (including a protruding snout). Idiot boy basically told us "F*ck off you must be joking". We didn't bother with anymore after that, never have I been more convinced that I want to move to Eastbourne. We walked around town afterwards and my god it's on the skids. It's filthier than a blue northern comedian. It's such a contrast to the nice, amiable people of Eastbourne.

Did a "viewing" yesterday in a basement flat off the seafront, nice, but it didn't have that oooomph factor that I hear is all important in the world of property. Estate Agents are really twats - let's be honest - there's not a genuinely decent one amongst them.
Yesterday we saw about ten different brands, brassy ones, spiv ones, deathly ones, brash ones, vampish ones, car salesmen ones, timid ones!, pushy ones, wide boy ones and unattractive ones. They seem to tell you exactly what you want to hear, very clever and silver tongued charmers all. It's quite a frightening prospect that you have to trust anyone of them. On the way home we treated ourselves to a roly poly pudding and custard in a little chef such was the shock of it all.

What a happy st. valentine's day this is. It's an absolutely beautiful day, the sky is ooozing romance, the ladyfriend and I have had a hot cross bun toasted and buttered and we are listening to Dean Martin. It doesn't get any better. The ladyfriend has given me a pebble jar to keep my favourite pebbles in. It's the most romantic present I have ever had and that's the truth.
We are off to Eastbourne today to look at property, the sea and old people.

Well that's it then, she's gone. Going, going, gone to be precise. Just as I upped my bid by 50p someone got in there and swiped her from under my nose.

Heard the best news yesterday afternoon, a call was placed to us by Mr Clive, the police have caught their burglars red handed! Apparently it involved a daring 'copter' chase and hopefully a strong arm of the law. I can't wait to have my day in court. I shall take sandwhiches and shout "booo" and "shame" when they are given a few hours community service at the "Twighlight Waltz" home for the elderly where doubtless they will rob the poor pensioners blind.
There are only a few hours left to bid for the Irene Handl autograph, it's up to £9.76 now.

Oh I am very upset, I have been in a bidding war on ebay for a signed laminated picture of Irene Handl (and dog) and I have been outbid by someone. I had set a ceiling of £6 and some buggers gone over my £5.50 bid. If anyone cares enough for me then go to Ebay and stop it from falling into the wrong hands.

Arrived at work this morning and the place smells like a rabbit hutch. The people at L'oreal would have a fit. Imagine the state of my pores at the end of a twelve hour shift it doesn't bare thinking about. An average of eighteen people sit in a room that should be condemned. We are not allowed the doors open for some bizarre health and safety issue (oh the irony) so we stagnate in foul air breathing in each others biology. It is really rather grim. We have had a cold that never leaves the room, one person catches it in June and you can bet your life that one of us has still got the strain of it in February. Oh I shouldn't go on, it's not like the industrial revolution when factory girls were losing arms in the looms but, when you think that all of us use computers and the cut and paste of the newspaper world has long gone, we're not that far off of it.

::WEBSITE UPDATE::
I have just added another section to the website: Holy Lola, it makes me feel quite pious.

Another day and another reason to dislike the French. ooooooh never trust the French. Always quick to get in to bed with the wrong side. Arrogant, odorous nation. Then you've got that Putin chap who looks like a petrol pump attendant. The Germans.......don't mention the Germans! It looks like it's down to the British and Americans to save the world again. History repeating itself , we'll bankcrupt ourselves so everyone else isn't run by a dictator.
To those people that intend to demonstrate at the weekend in protest at the government, what fools, there they are using their freedom of speech whilst the poor people in Iraq can't even express their preference of cat food......where has Lesley Judd gone? She hasn't died has she? I never see her any more.
Anyway, I may be unfashionable but I support the war in Iraq, it was people like me that stood up to Hitler and we all know what happened with that one. Thank god we live on an island and there is a stretch of water between us and the French.

Just got to work. House prices, why are house prices so high? When is it going to stop, slow down, crash? It's quite a frightening prospect. I have just looked through the paper and there were two flats that were affordable (just) but situated in a horrible area. I fancy living in a park home/static caravan. I want plastic flowers and pink flamingoes on my lawn.
I want to have a beehive and a flowery pinny and have leopard print velour covers on my suite. If I have to end up living with the trailer trash I may as well embrace it with gusto.

Had a bit of an evening last night, the ladyfriend and I went to Thatcham for Graham's birthday . Thatcham is very flat - well what I have seen of it anyway - nonetheless enjoyable for it though. Infact, it is a marvel and an example to town planners everywhere I'm sure. It was the ladyfriend's brother's 50th birthday party and we went to a very nice pub which was tastefully decorated but clearly managed by half wits. Had a fantastic time though, got a bit squiffy and feel very loathe to go on a walk which Mr Clive and Mr Drew have planned for us today. I'm hoping rain might stop play but unfortunately Mr Clive is built of stronger stuff which I am sure that those of you who have seen his picture will probably have suspected.

The last post went a bit peculiar - Try this
Weird

Hooray, I have got this forum thing sussed out now, so go and break it. It is not yet inline with the Life for Lola house style but hey, these things can't be rushed.

Had a fabulous day in Eastbourne yesterday, check out the pictures

07 February, 2003

Today I attempt to crack this forum installation thing so for today's life for lola I shall let Mr Twitchen speak in reply to yesterday's lola :
Dearest Lou Lou,
I too, am aghast at the appalling state of todays so called "Men", it seems that today if a man wants to attract a member of the fairer sex he has to zip orf down to the beauty parlour and spend the equivalent of a lifetimes earnings of a chinaman on coiffure-ing (?) himself before liberally dousing his body in some awful smelling French liquid and nipping down to the `bistro ` for a sherry!! It was different in my day I can tell you, we just strolled up to the girl of our intended sexual liaison, asked who she didn't like......... then calmly walked over to them and started a fight, if we won,then there would be another `notch` in the Twitchen headboard (and maybe a dash down to the clap clinic!!) and much ribbing down the pub the next night, there was never a hint of gel in the hair or foul French muck on me chops (although Brut was acceptable coz "our Henry" endorsed it). It wont be too long before we`re as cowardly as the French or as smelly, it makes me cry , it really does.
A hundred years ago we had an Empire and were ruled by an
Emperor, then we had a Kingdom and were ruled by a King..... now we have a Country..............
Love you and the website, best wishes . Mr. Teeeee

Since waking I have marvelled at the invention of central heating and hot running water, I have looked aghast at a little slapper of a schoolgirl who looked like she was enroute to a brothel not a school and then looked in pity at a grown man (the wrong side of 30) with a skateboard.
What is happening? It can't just be the fault of the BBC. One does wonder what would happen to these men if call up papers fell on to their doormats. When you think of World War 1 when kids of 14 were getting shot to pieces for our future and "men" of today are skateboarding in company carparks - it's all a bit warped really. Cruel. What a waste.
I think I should end on that note and ask you all if you can to have a minute silence for those poor kids in the trenches as we'll never see their kind again.

I am listening to a remarkable cd by Kathryn Williams called Little Black Numbers, it takes a couple of listenings but it's brilliant.
You will notice I have added a few more sections to the site. The navigation is pretty ropey on the website at the moment so if you get lost come back here. We still have the builders in at the moment. I am going to see Mr C and Mr D tonight and hopefully fingers crossed I'll have the forum up and running soon and you can all talk amongst yourselves.

Just heard a chap at work saying how he had been burgled last night. What on earth is wrong with these people? When did the erosion of values begin? Is pop music to blame? Drugs? TV? I really think they should beat the living daylights out of these kids when they get hold of them. I forsee the rise of vigilante groups soon.
I want to move to Spain, there's probably just as much crime on the Costa but atleast there is sunshine. I used to adore this country but I'm sick of being the sap putting it all in and just counting my blessings that I haven't been burgled, stabbed or been the subject of a fly on the wall documentary.
It's not the government, it's not the police, it all began when they took Jim'll Fix it off the tv. It took away hope from children and gave them despair. They realised there really was no way of meeting Gary Numan or eating a big mac on a rollercoaster. Now if they want something they take it regardless of who it upsets. I blame the BBC.

On the way to work this morning I saw another example of what always puzzles me - buses with old film adverts on. They are all faded and bleached yet what they advertise is zinga zing zingy and out next week. Imagine the shame for that bus driver trundling around town picking up the same morons (another subject, another day but these regular trippers never talk to each other yet know each other most intimately at the same time) I know my heart would sink if I was given the keys to the old film poster bus. It must be embarrassing, especially if you pass someone with the latest blockbuster heading in the opposite direction. Being a bus it would not be convenient to duck down an alternative route to avoid a smug grin from the other driver.
Similarly, it must make the passengers feel peculiar and a little scarlet riding around with a film that has been and gone and available to buy or rent on DVD.

I've decided that the housemartins were pretty rubbish. Last monday, as I think I said, I bought a double tape of theirs in a charity shop and it is dull as ditch. I do like the "caravan of love" and its calming influence kept my speed down in a built up area.

Another week and the waters seem gentle, no rough seas yet. I hope there is no warning to shipping as I could do with a nice few days. I had a few choppy waves recently and loathe as I am to abandon ship one does wonder what course the almighty has set.

Come on Mr Clive, where is my report?

I have had a most excellent weekend where I have done very little indeed and feel the benefits no end. Next weekend we have to pack a load in so it is just as well.
On friday we went to see Mr C and Mr D and spent the evening feasting and looking at the borders of the middle east which was more interesting than you might think. The photos of this visit can be seen if you Click here Today the ladyfriend and I took a gentle walk (as she is still a little wan) in Burnham Beeches to track the wild boars - alas there were none to be had, I did take some pictures though which can be found if you Click here.
I made my own pesto last night, I can't tell you how much fun it was, you'll have to do it for yourself to see.

I awoke this morning with a thumping Rioja headache and a winter wonderland of snow. It was like a sweet and sour experience. we are off on a winter walk in a while, camera in hand and a shopping list. I am going to throw something together with a bit of parma ham and pork! Ooh la indeed.