It's all doom and gloom with the property market, boom and considerable bust. On my way to work this morning I passed a new development of luxury apartments (cheaply built flats with paper thin walls) and thought to myself as I looked at the marketing hoardings how they would have to change things as the recession looms like a 'funny cousin' at a family funeral. Around the building site they have erected aspirational pictures of young people enjoying a life of success after buying one of the apartments. A fella reads the paper with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, he has his feet up, hair 'messy trendy' and a relaxed smile on his face. Another one shows a woman, thin and gorgeous about to press the plunger down on her coffee pot. I'll give her plunge, I'd like to see her face when she's plunged into debt with a mortgage twenty times her salary and the Avon catalogue lady knocking at her door! Let's see these pictures! Faces of horror and remorse! A letter box piled high with credit card statements, a cupboard that is bare! Hmmm.

I fell victim to the Asda Dom Perignon mania last night. I got a phone call from Teezy Weezy Mark alerting me that my local Asda's was selling the toff's champagne at a knock down price of thirty quid! I nearly dropped the phone in the casoulet I was knocking up.
Needless to say I bolted my dinner - spilling most on my top - and jumped into the jollopy and set out into a wet winter evening enroute to the nasty side of town.
Ofcourse when I got there it had all gone, the 'rollback' sign was there but the shelf was empty, I reckoned that the nasty Sharon Osbourne (she lives local) had been there and 'ad the lot. Well, if I had seen her I would have given her more than a slap on the backside.
I do love a Christmas bargain though, I have fond memories of the Morrisson's Verve Cliquot coup of a few years ago. It seems with each year they get better and better. Infact, like the first whiff of pine needles or the emotional stir of the Salvation Army band these limited offers speak more to me of Christmas than the little baby Jesus!

It's the Wife's birthday today, bless her. We can't do much to celebrate because it falls on a school night. We're going down to Bath on Sunday though to see the Christmas Market so that will be more than enough excitement for one week.
I do like a Christmas market, if you like sheds you are half way there because that's what they basically are, rows of little sheds selling stuff and nonsense.
I like a hot plastic cup of mulled wine which would strip wallpaper and I like walking around with overcooked pig in a roll, I also like kicking people on the back of the legs when they get in the way - oh I can't wait.
I am getting in the Christmas spirit at last and during lunch I checked the magazine rack in Tesco for the Radio Times but it aint out yet. My advent calendar is sat on my desk winking at me as I type, it's a chocolate one which I bought a week ago but I reckon the heat of the computer may have melted it. I'll open up on Monday to find something Bobby Sands may have left behind. Can't wait.

To Derbyshire at the weekend to stay in lovely Breaston. We got there by the power of SatNav and the skin of our teeth. We're new to this little invention and for the entire journey there it kept 'bonging'. The wife and I couldn't understand why it would emit this sound so we decided it was just to keep us awake, afterall 'tiredness kills'. It wasn't until we got to Mr Clive and Mr Drew's that they told us it was a warning that we were going over the speed limit! Red faces all round. Less to say we have now deactivated this feature.

Lola's going to see Morrissey, Lola's going to see Morrissey!

I caught a bus yesterday. It wasn't the sort of bus that I am used to getting on. It was a modern bus aimed at the disabled. It had a door that swished open towards me, not the old style that concertiners, it nearly had me over. Narrowly escaping being maimed by public transport I took tentative steps and approached the Polish bus driver.
I nearly put my back out having to bend down to pay for my ticket as his money tray was conveniently placed at knee level. I went to take a seat, I found one which had a sign of an old woman bent double with a suggestion that I should give it up if she wanted it back. It had a whiff of piss about it but as my journey was a short one I hoped it wouldn't penetrate.
I could see my stop approaching so I got up to work my way to the door whilst the bus was still moving - I know we are not supposed to but I never trust the ting of the bell - I began grabbing at the rails one by one to steady me, you can imagine my alarm when the rails began to give way! I was shocked and stunned, I could feel the toes of my fellow commuters curling as I was flung like a rag doll from one side of the bus to the other!

I was in that Second Life thing last night. It's a bit freaky deaky. I kept bumping into people because I couldn't get my Avatar to walk straight. It's very complicated and rather time consuming. I'm sure it's a boon to the agrophobic but it doesn't fly with me. It ended up crashing my computer, tonight it will be 'Add and Remove' for Second Life. I can't get myself involved in another one of these things, Facebook is already all consuming.
The gym was busy last night, people are desperate to slim into their party frocks for the festive season. I couldn't get near the floor exercise area, it was full of lithe bodies moving up and down. I decided to do my sit ups at home, I left them until bedtime which was a bit of a mistake as the Wife whacked me in the face with her belt as she was getting undressed, my tummy looks great it's my cheek that's bulging now!
I'm rather looking forward to January at the gym, I know it's going to be busy with New Year Resolutionaries but the good thing is they will be FAT and not the toned athletes that "tut" at my paltry five minutes on the treadmill.

And all that Yazz

I've been going through a bit of a midlife crisis, I'm 37 in a few weeks so I've been eyeing up open top sports cars in the Dinky toy catalogues, joining a gym, tapping my feet to Kylie Minogue's new record you know the stuff - oh it's been woeful. I'm not concerned about my career, thoughts that I should have hit the glass ceiling by now or my financial status, I'm just a bit dry mouthed being the wrong side of 30.

Out on a 'works do' tonight. God help me. I have trouble holding my drink (even in my hands) and one wonders what bombshell I might drop in a moment of drunken sincerity. This time next week I might be working my notice.
Not to drink would be out of the question. The Wife isn't coming, she's going to drop me off at the restaurant and then wait, like the firemen in Trumpton, for the alarm bell to ring to pick me up, but where will it be from? The Police Station or A&E.
I'm not normally keen on dining out in large groups, seating can be a minefield and I can't always hear what people are saying. These new pizza restaurants don't help, the flooring makes it easier to listen to a conversation four tables away than the person opposite. I know it's not trendy but nothing beats a nice bit of Axminster wool twist!

I had to walk to work this morning with a tennis racket. It's a long story so I'll skip to the end but I had to have it in its black case slung over my shoulder. My coat is green and a bit military (such is the fashion these days) so if you squinted I looked a little like Michael Ryan. I looked 'tooled up' so I rushed to work terrified incase I might be mistaken by a trigger happy copper a la John Charles de Mendez!

Wowzer! What a fabulous weekend. To Brighton on Friday night to see Pink Martini at The Dome, if you are not familiar with Pink Martini GET IT SORRRTTTTED as you've no idea what you're missing. The concert was great, PHENOMENAL.
On Saturday I managed to track a swimming costume down in the unlikeliest of places -ASDA's! It's very nice, has a bit of support for girls that are big on top and - like most things sold in ASDA's - has a nice little pocket for your benefit books.
In the afternoon we went along the coast to Shoreham where our two pals Michelle and Sarah live. It's a rinky dink of a place, the Wife and I loved it, we were treated to a cream tea, a brisk walk along the front and we intend to return!

Filth! I'm becoming a bit of a prude, the Wife says it's because I'm getting old but I don't think so. They are advertising an exhibition called Erotica on a bus shelter close by to where I live, I think it's filth! I've no truck with anyone who wants to truss themselves up like a turkey or leap off wardrobes dressed in scuba gear, as far as I am concerned what folk get up to in the confines of their own bedrooms is entirely up to them but when it spills out onto the pavement - that's when my alarm bells ring!
What does the mother say to the small child that asks "mother what does kinky mean?" I know I'd be struck dumb. No, no, no keep things like that firmly under wraps, preferably in pvc or rubber.

Last night I went to the gym for the first time and merciful Jesus I nearly died. I don't know how I got home, I just remember 'coming to' in the bath at 7.30pm shocked and stunned with a face like a beetroot.
I tried to cheer myself up with telly. Being Monday night I expected to see a big old beast grazing on BBC2 but was devastated to see a couple of Stags on Autumn Watch! Where's Nigella gone!? Where was the warning? Why BBC, why!?!

To Watford this weekend to buy a swimming costume for my new fitness regime. The shopping mall is aptly named "The harlequin centre" because the place is an absolute farce. To skip to the chase you can't buy a swimming costume in November. You should have heard the excuses "err, no we're out of stock" "nah" and my favourite (in a sports shop) "we don't sell them" Infact most of the sport shops the Wife and I went into didn't sell a great deal to do with sport, infact it was abundantly clear that the sportswear that they did sell would be destined for the sofa and not the rowing machine.
So I'm on a bit of a sticky wicket, no new swimming costume. It's a silly name really, it's not like a fancy dress costume although wouldn't that be good, people doing the breaststroke dressed as nuns, clowns, cowboys and pirates.

Huge excitement chez Lola this morning. I opened up the newspaper to see Liza Minnelli staring up at me! She's going on tour! I shrieked to the Wife upstairs in a pitch HIGHER than nasty Heather Mills soon to be ex Mcartney and ten minutes later we were two hundred quid lighter and slap bang in centre stalls. I am SO excited I think I'm losing my mind.
The Wife and I nearly came to blows though, in my frenzy to get good seats I nearly ripped her arm off to get to the computer mouse, but I played the Barbra Streisand card* by way of an apology.

*In June we paid an eye watering amount of money for Barbra tickets because that - along with swimming with dolphins and seeing Naples - was the wife's life long dream.