I drove to work this morning in a bit of a haze and can't remember any 'mirror, signal, maneuvers'. I did look out for the invisible motorcyclist like I always do since that dreadful advertisement but I never saw him. No, I think the mini and I both know it's over. Gone is the fun, the passion, the happiness. We are both going through the motions. It's a desperate situation - one I have been through before - and I know it can't last like this for much longer. When she passes her MOT she'll be on the market, out of my life, only this time I come out of it with some lolly.

Hope this weather situation picks up a bit, chances of going camping next week are getting dimmer and dimmer. I like life under canvas and the ladyfriend and I are all ready and raring to go. It's going to take a huge leap in temperatures to convince us to sleep outside, we are game old girls but we aint Edmund Hilary.

Whilst bathing in soapy suds this morning I heard the next door neighbour singing her little heart out to Ronan Keating rollercoaster song. Now, normally of a morning she effs and blinds at her little kids to get ready for school but today the universal appeal of Ronan Keating stopped her from traumatising her kiddies for one morning. Do you know she was rather good. She is only a slight woman, infact, I shouldn't say it, but she reminds me of Sarah Payne's crusading mother. The same sparrow like features, lank hair and earthy qualities.
I wonder if in her day - before the kiddies - she was a professional singer working the club circuit with dreams like you and I of stardom and a rambling house in the Cotswolds. Now she is a little bird caged with demanding children and a short temper, oh fate is cruel. Perhaps one day she will take to the stage again and pursue her obvious talent, I do hope so, for the kiddies sake if anyones.

Like the whiff of an autumn afternoon the ladyfriend and I have caught the smell of completion coming closer. Phoned the solicitor this morning and she reckons it will be in the next five days. It is indeed good news. Old Michele with only one L is the best solicitor in the world. She's as bright as a shiny new penny and may god bless her because she's saved the ladyfriend and I a bob or two and that's the truth. Aaah Eastbourne, that gem on the English coastline is getting ever closer. The ladyfriend and I are on tenterhooks.

I bought the new Eddi Reader album at the weekend. I made sure I bought it in a local shop for local people. I do not like to use chain stores as they are the devil's very own outlet store. I hate them and their buy three cds for £20 racks. The aisles of DVDs and over pricing. Give money to your local community is what I say, not Mr Branston Pickle.

One more week of work and then the ladyfriend and I are en vacances!

The ladyfriend and I went to see a talkie last night. It was Actors starring Michael caine. There were not many of us in the cinema, infact I don't think we numbered more than twenty which was incredible for 'Hettie Night' (for those unsure this is either Friday or Saturday night when most establishments with entertainment value are taken over by Heterosexuals with their loud, garish and unsophisticated ways). I don't know if it was the dissapointing cup final result that kept people away or the threat of a dirty bomb but I was glad to have a clear view of the screen. A huge man sat next to me who gurgled everytime an attractive lady appeared. I should imagine it must have been quite annoying for his wife/girlfriend who he was sitting with to hear his vocal leering. Horrid man.
The ladyfriend and I have set sail on the high seas of fat loss. The door to the cellar has been plastered over. I am not allowed to cook tempting treats. We took half an hour to choose two sandwhiches is Tesco yesterday. It's a minefield for the obese that place.

Have you heard a cuckoo yet? Me neither. I read this morning (rather late for work by the way-but hey) in my country living magazine about light pollution and the disastrous effects on wildlife. It was quite illuminating. Do you know it's very difficult to find darkness in the UK these days? There is nothing as wonderful to me than a blanket of stars and it does worry me that future generations will just about be able to make out the moon because of city sprawl. So I say to you 'put that light out' don't add to toads being squashed and blackbirds up all hours. Become a careful consumer and buy low wattage bulbs. Pull your curtains, write to your MP, keep your polluting ways to yourselves and buy a telescope.

Had to cover my delicates last night, there was a warning of ground frost and if correct, my sweetpeas would have bought it. I used the Daily Mail to shield them from Mother Nature's wrath. It is probably the only good that vile paper has done for a very long time.

Came to work this morning and was put in a dreadful position. Someone who is not normally prone to a lot of makeup is suddenly covered in the stuff, head to toe in slap. A little too much glamour for the workplace. Is she off out dancing in her lunchbreak? What do you do? I always feel very uneasy in these situations. It's like when someone sports a completely different hairstyle and life is supposed to 'carry on'. Do you mention it? Or do you ignore it? I intend to stay out of her way for the rest of the day. My time at work is bad enough to have to put up with more upset.

Had a phone call from a woman last night called Ruth. I don't know anyone called Ruth.

My life seems to be like the inbox of my hotmail account overflowing with people hassling me about one thing and another. Someone trying to sell me smut, another a mortgage and someone else who can offer me a vast improvement in my sex life, all this and save me hundreds of pounds! I don't know, one day at a time sweet Jesus.

This morning I breakfasted in the garden and watched the sparrows dive bombing for bread on the lawn. It was very calming and I am sure the very best thing for a soul. I could hear the country coming to life as I trained my sweetpeas up their poles and thought how wonderful it is to be in England in summertime.

I am reaching the end of a rather demanding week. I have just today to get through and it'll be time to put my pens and pencils away until Monday when it will all start again. I have of late but wherefore I know not lost all my mirth and I blame this place [work] and I intend to hire deckchairs in Eastbourne or black up and do a 'turn' at the end of the pier. Talking of blacking up, what is this Trafalgar square nonsense? Click here if you don't know I think Mandella is a fabulous chap and all that but really, Trafalgar square? No, no, no, there is only room for one Nelson there! If we start putting up statues of johnny foreigners who have done great things with their lives it would end up looking like a chess board not a monument to a great British victory against the bloody French Click here for more I'm sure the statue would look marvellous in say, a shopping Mall which there are plenty. I think far better would be a statue of Ellen Mcarthur would be more apt. With her naval connections she would look splendid on a plinth beneath Nelson. I am sure, being dimunitive in stature she would not cost a lot to produce.

Awoke this morning alarmed and in a state of flux as my left arm was slumped over my chest limp and lifeless! Quelle horror! I had to resusitate my limb spit spot. It gave me a sharp awakening into the sad world of the paraplegic. Tried to return to my slumber as it was only 5am but the sound of the dawn chorus was so great I had to get up and join Breakfast tv.

Had a stroke of luck yesterday afternoon thanks to Maureen. Her horse Cressex Katie came in first at the 3:10 at Bath. I've scooped £21! I am torn between a bottle of Veuve Clicquot or a cycle rack for the car..............very sad to say the bike rack is winning in the practicality stakes.

Feel like Hattie Jaques this morning. Had a bit of a feeding frenzy this weekend and feel I have consumed enough to sustain three body builders attempting to win Mr Universe. I shall eat grass and distilled water for the rest of the week.
Bit of a tv clash tonight, there's the football on ITV and the new series of Cutting it on BBC1...it's going to be a tough one to call at chez Lola tonight.
Saw a Plymouth Brethren coming out of a petrol station this morning, I wonder if their heads ever itch from their scarf wearing. It must be a lovely release when it comes off in the bath......or does it?

Gone tits up again, I am having trouble with the Netscape, heap of junk spoiling my pretty ideas.

Hooooraaay, now we are cooking with gas! Life for Lola up 'n' running!

It's all gone a bit tits up here at Life for Lola, my new design works fine and dandy in internet explorer but goes quite quite odd in Netscape, so I have put this default thing up for now.
It's May 1st today so don't forget to dance round you pole. This weekend looks like an absolute washout. The weather in England is so predictable when it comes to bank holidays. I shall be standing with my nose pressed up against a steamy wet window this weekend I know it with the grass growing higher and my walking boots dejected in a dark cupboard.

I'm pissing about with life for lola again. I just can't leave it alone. Things look rather untidy at the moment but it's getting there but I have no time to play now as I am off the Mr C and Mr D for tea.

I have come to the conclusion that toffs ruin things they create. For instance, I would like to get up really, really early tomorrow morning, drive to Oxford and gather at the foot of Magdalen Tower at dawn and listen to the college choir sing in May Day. Only I know that I would not be able to hear the perfect tone and pitch of the singers because of the drunken middle class revellry.
The ladyfriend agrees and states that the Henley Regatta would be wonderful if it were not for the Hooray Henries. What is it about these pompous old gits that turn good old English traditions into disrepair? Ok, were it not for them they probably would not exist, but I think it's very much like a child who wont let someone else play with their toys. If they can't have it themselves they ruin it for everybody.
Thank god they weren't involved with the summer solstice - can you imagine how it would have panned out? I shudder to think.

Bit impetuous last night, after work at 8pm I made the Ladyfriend come with me to a huge bluebell wood. I am determined to win the Countryfile photography competition this year and with the correct lighting I thought I'd have it in the bag with the bluebells. Unfortunately in the time it took us to get there it had turned very murky so it's back to the drawing board.
Fantastic sight though, it's more than a carpet of bluebells, it's a huge expanse. The scent was incredible, a pheasant was walking through, geese were barking in the distance it was a magic moment.
The ladyfriend jumped out of her skin when we heard a gunshot "Bloodbath in bluebell wood" ran the headline but we were quite safe beneath the canopy of trees. I shall show you my bucolic snaps later this week.

Had a rather swelegant weekend. The Ladyfriend and I went to Berkhamstead on Friday, actually got a bit pissed off in the Oxfam there. I was trying to buy a Swallows and Amazons book and the two daft well meaning Guardian readers (I could just tell) shop assistants were the pits. They served two other people before me and I spiralled into an irate frenzy. There was nowhere I could go as a consumer as they were voluntary. Is there an official body for complaints for these people? I don't think so.
Saturday we went on a nine mile walk, it was brilliant but we got lost again. Yesterday I bought a compass.
Yesterday I also bought a bargain tomato box for two quid off a market stall. I reckon there were about a hundred tomatoes. I have already made a vat of pasta sauce, oven roasted twenty in garlic and given half away to my mother and I've still got a huge bowl full in the cupboard. I shall be sick of the apples of love by the end of the week.

The Ladyfriend and I are at quite a loose end. You see, with Eastbourne, family commitments and the odd thing here and there life has been all a bit hurly burly lately, but now things have gone a bit flat. This weekend we are free and easy and can do as we damn well pleasy, only we can't remember what we used to do. The weather outlook is bleak so it looks like that lawn won't get a trim on saturday, walking in a wet wood doesn't appeal. I know one thing, the devil makes work for idle hands to do. I hope I don't blow too much cash at the shopping mall. I know.........perhaps a drive out to Wales.

May I extend my warmest St George's salutations to you all! My, my it is indeed the best day to be English......unless you are George Galloway, all suntanned and mustachioed! Dearie me, traitor, turncoat! He'll get his come uppence and end up second hand car dealing you mark my words. And another thing, this "Who want's to be a millionnaire" scam, am I alone in seeing through this transparent farce? It's as plain as the nose on my face that the whole thing is a set up from start to finish. Firstly the programme lost thousands of viewers so it had to think of a scam to regenerate interest. It "lets" that major fellow through the first round, no doubt by furnishing him with the correct answer or jamming the other's buttons. Then it let's him win the million, starts this "cheat" court case and now plans to make a feature film of the whole thing. Who benefits? The programme gets more viewers, the major et al scoop a wacking cheque from the movie - and no doubt lilke the Hamiltons will be omnipresent for the next five years - Chris Tarrant get's more bloody exposure and everyone is happy. The Major won't spill the beans because he's a toff (good choice not using someone from the lower classes) I'm not fooled........are you?

Had a marvellous weekend, got to work this morning to find we have had a win on the Lotto! We scooped £1,881 in our syndicate, it breaks down to £99 each which I am more than happy with. The ladyfriend and I intend now to splash out on a couple of inflatable camping beds and a cycle rack for the car.......ooooh we are sporty. The rest I am sure we will donate to charity - hmm.
I have just read that the Billionaire philanthropist Sir Paul Getty has died, we were tramping all over his gaff at the weekend on a 8 mile yomp. We fell on his Wormsley Estate in Ibstone by accident as we read our map completely wrong and ended up in his neck of the woods - literally - we added at least two miles onto an already arduous walk, my poor tootsies.

This is for Graham

I woke up SO tired this morning, I didn't retire too late so I can't put my finger on why. I had a small drinkie with dinner but nothing to lay me out in such a manner. It got me thinking, what if I didn't stay in bed all night? What if I am really a monster or a fiend which stalks the streets and avenues skulking in the shade for prey? What if I took out several prostitutes last night in some kind of crazed slasher frenzy? It's worth thinking about. I was dreaming of parrots when I woke up....there may be a link between birds of prey and birds of the night.

I have realised how frivolous I have become with regards to water. With the poor people around the globe without access to a fresh supply - Iraq springs to mind (if you pardon the pun) I have realised that I really don't appreciate the wealth of water at my finger tips. Yesterday, I was swigging from a plastic bottle of it like a babe on the breast, this morning I was washing the car windows which were covered in a thick film of dust. The trousers I am wearing had a squirt from the iron and the bath I had this morning full of bubbles was more than enough for two. One thing that is a sin is leaving the tap running whilst brushing my gnashers, that really is naughty.
From now on I shall treat water with more respect, I shall not waste it unduly, I will however still warm it in my mouth on occasion - I like this: take a big mouthfull of cool water, hold it in your hamster like pouches until it warms up then swallow. urrgh, it doesn't sound so nice written down.....

Where DO I start? Well, last night was quite an eyeopener. The ladyfriend and I took to the Nettlebed Folk Club last night to see Maddy Prior who was and is always a most original and exceptional performer. But my god the people! Every one of them looked as though they had come straight from filming an Open University program involving incredibly long quotations. The atmosphere in the place was intense - a thick, strong aroma of real ale and archeaology - I attribute a sore throat I feel this morning from breathing in the stench of "Folk people".
All of them looked like they had the directors cut of "The Wicker Man" in their video collection. I feared for the ladyfriend's safety when Maddy sang "John Barleycorn". Was this the key to start the ritual? I eyed the fire exits and discovered to my horror that the ladyfriend and I were trapped amongst the folkies.

My site Life for Lola is yet again going under the knife, I've tried Botox but it just aint right. So, if you bump into missing links and crap things like that then take a chill pill. The fat lady is a long way off singing, infact, she still hasn't turned up for rehearsals.

Had a delightful weekend in the country staying with the Browns. Drank I am afraid rather too much. The good lord will shake his head in dissapointment at my lack of control. We went on a nice walk Click here for pictures which was rather bracing. It was nice to smell fresh air and see nature at her most beautiful.
Tonight the ladyfriend and I are off to a "folk" club to see Maddy Prior. I have brought my chunky jumper and grown a beard especially for the occasion.

Apparently I am a child of the nineties





what decade does your personality live in?


quiz brought to you by lady interference, ltd

I am in a rare old mood this morning, yesterday I was an absolute mare and a nasty old bint. Today I am firing on all cylinders so to speak. I came to work in the car trying to sing Jerusalem and have discovered I know not the words to this fine, spirit lifting hymn. I will therefore go "online" and print out a full version which I will stick on the dash for another morning.

Regarding these journalists being shot at yesterday in Baghdad - again I say, what did they think would happen if they were in the middle of a war zone?
I don't think this wall to wall coverage is a very good thing, pull out all of these dare devil journalists and go back to employing a war artist instead.
That way, the only thing that would be upset if caught up in a crossfire would be an easel and a nice set of quality oil paints. I should imagine an artist would be able to "catch" the mood better anyway. I remember Nancy Kominsky wielding her pallette knife. I reckon she would make a marvellous job of capturing the Iraqui women scrambling for bottled Evian* on canvas. Click here to see Nancy

*I bet that water aint from the Perthshire hills

I have been watching Ragi Omar's hair throughout the war on Iraq. I am becoming increasingly worried about his safety. He's such a nice man and I feel like he has become one of the family. I feel as if I know him. I suppose it is a bit like those crazy people that hit soap opera stars in the street if their character does something oulandish believing them to be real.
I hope Ragi gets home safe it's a very precarious position to be in. He never seems to wear a hard hat, not like the softies on ITV, thing is in bright blue they stick out like sore thumbs on the battle field.....perhaps that's the idea.
It has been very interesting watching a war from the safety of an English armchair. It's a shame that this technology wasn't available during the battle of Agincourt.......wasn't that when we defeated the French (ooooh how apt we should discuss it here).

Today feels soft as if the whole of my life is cushioned in gentleman sized tissues. I don't know if my ears need syringing but it's all a bit quiet and slow. I've got leaseholds and freeholds coming out of my ears, estate agents - don't talk to me about estate agents. What is it that they actually do? The ladyfriend and I are thinking about pulling the plug, buying a winnebago and touring the north of scotland - it's all got that ridiculous.

Went down to the coast yesterday to kick Eastbourne Ass, we have decided to give our inept solicitor the feel of our Dr Scholls and go elsewhere. Estate Agents really are scum.
I have decided the reason I have become portly is due to the ladyfriend being a feeder. Good job I have twigged it before too much damage is done, a month off the booze and a few weeks off the pork pies will sort the wheat from the chaff. Take a look at this link Click here
Today I am treating the ladyfriend to a trip to portobello market, that will be nice.

Look! He does look like Mickey Rooney!

The ladyfriend and I are over our first hurdle, we managed to watch the England game without a drop passing our lips. My God it was hard. It was a rather thrilling match after Michael Owen came off........let's be honest here, why does this little boy play anyway? I am sure it's him and Heskey that let us down. Scrap them and while we are at it.....David Beckham - can we not have someone else take the free kicks and corners on occasion. He has become boring and predictable. I also can't quite work out this Gary Neville fixation, he seems to me like the bad penny that keeps turning up. The ladyfriend and I were most impressed by the Rooney lad. Such skill at such a young age, a little bit like the wonderful entertainer Mickey Rooney, infact they look similar. If he comes good like that Hollywood legend then England will win the cup next year.

You were unable to read my diary yesterday because the server went tits up in America.........another blue on blue? I see we are up and running nicely now. Came to work this morning with the Cocteau Twins playing, I was trying to sing along and it was most difficult as they sing in a strange tongue and the words are completely inaudible. Good knows what the oncoming traffic thought of my contorted mouth.
Football tonight, the Ladyfriend and I are up for dissapointment, England are so painful to watch. I don't know why we put ourselves through it. Our particular hate figure on the field is that Heskey chap. We are tired of the long ball, why can't we play like the lovely Italians? I'm just a week and feeble woman and have no place to comment on football, I shall get a rebuke from my brother again. He has already torn me off a strip about my facist views, he's right, this place is turning into conservativecentraloffice.com

Had a letter this morning congratulating me on winning a prize holiday, I entered the competition in the Polish Dancing magazine where I had to come up with - in less than 25 words I must add - why Polish Dancing is the best way to lose weight and make friends. Well, I won! I have landed myself a two week holiday at a top Polish Dancing school in Warsaw...for two.

I have had a marvellous weekend, fabulous weather. Trouble is, I got so smashed on champagne on Saturday night that it's driven me to give up the booze. I have decided that for the next three weeks (lent) not one libation shall pass my lips. It's going to be difficult as,regular readers of my diary will know, lady lager plays a large part of my life. I'm not giving it up for good, no, no, just getting a handle on my clear dependency.
The ladyfriend and I bought two marvellous sleeping bags for our summer camping trips, they are heavily upholstered, I can't wait for summer and the camping fun that it brings, the birdsong, the spit of the sausages on the bar-b-q, the scent of toothpaste in the communal shower blocks! Can't wait.

Just woken in Mr Clive and Mr Drew's house, had a lovely evening which included wine and food and splendid conversation. On waking this morning I heard the birds singing and as I did not recognise their song it made me realise how different birds have different tunes.
Where the ladyfriend and I live the birds are quite chilled out and lazy, here at the centre of town the birds sound like eminem. I am quite worried that the proliferation of rap music in society is effecting British bird song.

What a beautiful March this is turning out to be, splendid. I pass trees on the way to work that are so heavy with blossom it's a wonder they can stand up. Looking very much forward to this weekend it is going to be an absolute joy. The ladyfriend and I are at leisure, we don't have to go to Eastbourne to look for flats, we don't have to tear about anywhere.
Fabulous. We could pop up to Camden - in the words of Laurence Olivier "Is it safe?" - The football is on, that should prove a thrilling diversion. I do have to pop out and get a 'lil' something for a most wonderful lady in my life, my dear mother. What do you get a lady who has everything? Perhaps I should buy her a trolley dash around Collumbia Road Flower Market, trouble is, because of the crowds there she wouldn't get past the delphiniums.

God bless her one and all

I've just realised I have got to work and do not know this morning's news. I don't know how Basra is or if Baghdad has fallen. I have a knowledge void which I need to fill. It does seem that life is full of 'events' lately. Last year there was the Queen mother snuffing it, the golden jubilee and then the world cup. It seems to be a most eventful time to live in.
Talking of golden ages, unfortunately, due to the extended news coverage, not a lot has been said about the fabulous Elizabeth I whose 400th anniversary of her death passed by uneventfully on Monday. Shame on us all.
I think, therefore, I must ask you all to raise a glass to her as soon as possible, we all have a lot to be thankfull to her for........especially Glenda Jackson.

Had a pectin problem this morning, I brought back some oranges from Malaga and made marmalade with them on Sunday. I had some on me toast this morning which tasted ten out of ten but the consistency was ver ver runny. I will make my next batch with this in mind.
I was reading a copy of the daily mirror this morning, I am disgusted at their stance on this war. I think after this week I shall stop reading it altogether but Miriam's Casebook is rather intriguing. What is his secret? I suspect homosexuality and it's only day two.

I forgot to mention, on the way home on our flight was the ugly boy from "Eldorado" the one with the hooky nose and wheel chair bound sister. I imagine he was in Spain for one of those reunion things soap people do for the fans. I loved "Eldorado".
Went to our financial advisor today and it looks like I am good for a few bob. All going well the ladyfriend and I will be dining on freshly caught mackrel barbecued over a makeshift stove on the beach in a couple of months.
I shall have a party - similar to the full moon party in Goa - by Eastbourne beach to celebrate.

Email from Lorraine foul mouthed Twitchen : Dear lola 
Mrs T here, having a lovely time with Tina and her family we are so pleased to here that you support our braves lads who are fighting for the peoples freedom in Iraq. Bugger the stupid winkers who are marching today they mean nothing, they should support our brave lads and lassies who are fighting for us and we wish them all the best god bless them all. I hope you had a lovely time in espania and will return to work in a better mood and sober just like me. 
~Your bosom budd Mrs T
 ps. who has had a few

Back home and I see the grass needs cutting. Had the most unusual flight home, a group of some twenty children were onboard who were dressed in the strangest of fashions, all remarkably well behaved but unlike real children. I think they were either christians or a theatrical group as a few of them "performed" in the baggage hall. sitting behind the ladyfriend and I were flight "experts", as the plane was coming into land they were saying things like "He's circling to do this" and "When we came back from Greece they did that", instead of sounding well travelled they came across as the halfwits they really were. Nice lady sitting on our row, for the entire flight she never said a word which is refreshing. She sat and read her OK magazine in complete silence.
I must just say a few words of encouragment for the troops, keep up the good work boys, we're behind you all the way!

Ola! The sun is out and we can bathe our english skin in the warmth atlast! I see from Sky news that the war has kicked off, I must say I do find it all terribly exciting. Obviously from arms length though, not in my back yard and all that. I hear France and Russia are creating a fuss, really, history should tell them when to keep their mouths shut. I am sure the people of Iraq will run to our troops as they free them from their bondage like the French did in the Parisian streets in 1944. How soon they forget.
Never trust the French. Good job they aren't on board, they're no good in a war and only use their artillary to blow up innocent reefs in the pacific.

Today -as the threat of war looms in the gulf the storm clouds loom on the Costa del Sol. The weather is mucky, but never mind it aint Kuwait! We are discussing lunch, perhaps a lil tapas somewhere, trouble is I do like a large portion and sometimes the spanish skimp. I am feeling a little under the weather, a lil strep throat. I am hoping it will pass.
We went shopping yesterday in a marvellous supermarket, forgot to get truffles but managed to stock up on fine olive oil and rioja.
The supermarket was a bit wiffy in parts, it's that wind blown pig that gets me every time.

The ladyfriend knows no restraint and after promising me she would not make a show of herself -AGAIN- she proceeded to humilate not only myself but the lovely boys from the costa del sol in a riffy restaurant last night.....actually it was the afternoon.
We were all in bed by nine last night after a little too much booze. Too wan to talk further.

17 March, 2003

Well girls the Ladyfriend and I have landed safely in Spain and have sunk a glass of wine already - well, the sun is over the yard arm.
My ears are crunching like a goodùn as we both suffered the bends in the plane. Absolutely shattered but intend to live the high life! Look out for photos of my escapades coming soon!

Feel a lil wan today, I don't know why, perhaps it was the excitement of it all, but I was up at 3.30am. I couldn't sleep so I went down to watch the telly. I was greeted with the sad news regarding Dame Thora - gone on the stenna stairlift to the sky Shame. Another nail in the coffin of Last of the Summer Wine, how much longer can they carry that series on?
I feel absolutely shattered now, thankfully the Ladyfriend loves to do the packing, she has a system and I really wouldn't want to come between her and a winning formula so I have let her pack the cases.
Not long now and it's bye bye Blightly and Ola Gin and Tonic. Keep 'em peeled for snapshots from the sunshine coast.

Well, the flat fairy has waved her magic wand and at last we have found our flat, offer accepted, deal done - well you know, subject to blah blah blah but we've found it! It has a lovely sitting room which is light and airy and the sunshine streams into it. Infact, it is a bit like St. Ives, I expect to walk into it and find artists sitting around in smocks. The kitchen is cute and cuddly - again lovely and light. The bedroom is smart and the bathroom is tidy (unusual avocado suite but that can come out). It's ace, Victorian and the best thing since buttered toast.
The sense of relief is incredible, no more riffy dives to view, no more spiv estate agents to talk to - except our Maxine - but it's over. I know there will be delays and all that trauma to come but the ladyfriend and I are in no hurry. La Dolce Vita atlast.

Last day at work before the Ladyfriend and I hit the Med, oooh I feel like putting on the disco music now! I've had quite enough of this work thing at the moment and I am cock-a-hoop that I can have a week of the real world for a change.
Shangrila, it's just a shame that one has to return. It's quite ironic that the safety work brings also entails a fear of living a life you would prefer.
I'm putting the pinny on tonight and cooking for Mr Drew and Mr Clive. I am doing pig pesto (my dish of choice at the moment) Unfortunately Mr Clive has a food allergy and can't take poultry - a giant of a man and a chicken can floor him.
Tomorrow it's off down to Eastbourne to take a butchers at Enys Road, please Flat Fairy sprinkle some good luck dust on this one!

Oooh I can feel that down on the Costa feeling, not long to go now and we will be landing - deep vein thrombosis permitting - on the runway of Malaga Airport. I love that airport, I love the walk from the plane to the luggage, the squeaky floor, the low ceiling and the tourism posters. It's a beautiful piece of architecture, it feels so swinging stylish. It must have taken years to build, you know what the spanish are like.
Yep, just got a few loose ends to tie up and I shall enter that euphoric holiday coming feeling at work, the cavalier attitude creeps in where you cut corners knowing full well it will be out of your hands - and blame - next week. I love the impulsive holiday splash out where you buy something in Top Shop for the 'holiday' just because you can, I love the magazine I buy at the airport which I wouldn't normally buy in the real world, I think last time it was 'Real Woman'. I especially like that "look at me I'm going somewhere foreign feeling" that I ooze at airports, Oooh and I do LOVE a take off ..........Una Paloma Blanca!

Oh the power of the provincial newspaper, this country is just about to go to war and my local newspaper has launched the "Gone to pot" campaign. An attempt to legalise cannabis? No, a quest to get the council to fill in all of the pot holes that are in the roads. Good god....I quote "ANGRY cyclists and pensioners are among scores of readers who have hit out at the state of Buckinghamshire's roads in the wake of our Gone to Pot campaign."
Scores, not thousands, not even hundreds, infact scores = 40 people.
Moving along, the ladyfriend and I are feeling a lot better about this beastly flat buying business and have an appointment to see another gaff on Friday. Maxine is meeting us at 3pm outside number 87 so it's up with the spirits and down with Mr Sad. This one has a share in the freehold which can only be a good thing.

Bit fed up today, I've had enough of property and estate agents and locations and vendors and leaseholds and freeholds and mortgage advisors.....Had a bit of a weekend, we put an offer in on a flat and we were then subjected to a woman who looked less feminine than Les Dawson trying to flog us a mortgage for half an hour after being told we already had one in place. PLEASE DO NOT GO NEAR THE HALIFAX - ineptitude runs through that organisation like a young Sebastian Coe.
....Found our dream home on Saturday decided to buy it only now we find out that the yearly maintenance fee is £800 I mean come on, that's extortion, so we have decided not to buy it.....the ladyfriend and I are severely down in the dumps at the moment and have decided to take two weeks off to recover from the vipers of the property world.
We are off to Spain next week on a visit to the beautiful boys on the costa del sol where we will mix in fine company and dine at the best of tables. I am sure that the gin alone will smoothe away the edges of the eastbourne property scene.

I've got a banging hangover from too much wine and hardcore.....I spent last evening sorting out some cd burning for my beautiful boys on the costa del sol, god knows what I have done for them as I was as tight as a drum at the time. I've got through a few blank cds left so it must have been successful.
I bought the cds at Asda last night from a gormless girl in the home entertainment section, they were playing a record which I liked and have heard on the radio, I didn't know who it was by and as the music subsided I asked "who sings this?" she replied "Daan know, great innit?" and after making my purchases - bought the Turin Brakes cd too - she wacked it back on louder and started bouncing up and down. Thank god for music.

I feel I may be having a mental breakdown. Coming to work this morning a car passed me and I am convinced that it was Jonathan Aitken - again. I do tend to see lots of famous people on a regular basis. Infact I did see the late Princess Diana in a Tesco carpark several years after her death, being "sensitive" to communications from the other side this wasn't a problem to me. Anyway, I rarely see the same person twice. Is it a glitch in the Matrix or mental disease?
The ladyfriend and I are off to Eastbourne tomorrow for a second viewing on a flat, I really like this one. I've mentally decorated it several times. Mr Clive and Mr Drew are coming with us again on Saturday so we can introduce them to Eastbourne society.
Today I am listening to my noel coward cd from my ebay debacle, it is very good and in exceptional condition.

I was talking to Susan - a colleague/co-worker, whatever - we suddenly hit on the subject of stamp collecting and memories flooded back of shoe boxes full of torn envelopes with stamps on, transparent packets of stamps from around the globe and empty pages of books with grids on. In particular we discussed those strange sticky things that you fixed the stamps on with that would spill out onto the carpet like confetti and never be the same afterwards. I remember how the pages would crinkle that did have stamps on and those pages that you knew you would never use with a country you'd never heard of, those pages would never crackle. The adverts in the back of the beano for "Bumper packets of stamps of the world"
I wasn't an avid collector at all, as a child I was just as faddy as I am now and would be passionate about something for a while like the next person. Oh but the memories that you think you've forgotten that are unleashed in an instant through a smell or a few words. Somewhere in the brain is a huge damn the size of Ikea. If those computer geeks could work out a way of transferring memories onto discs they'd sell like hotcakes. I suppose then people would constantly live in the past if they had access to it, best then, like stamp collecting, to leave it behind.

The ladyfriend and I couldn't be bothered to cook last night and, fancying steak and chips, went to the Beefeater in Beaconsfield. We were seated by the window and on the table opposite I swear was the disgraced MP - now born again christian - Jonathan Aitken. Well, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation - Steven Lawrence, firefighters and asylum seekers - not the sort or natzi chit chat I would have expected from a 'believer'.
Also, the consumption of two Irish coffees is a little hard to swallow from a reformed character. No, it is my guess that this man has leopard's spots and was in Beaconsfield purely to relaunch his career in politics! Why, just opposite the Beefeater is the Conservative office!
Just you watch, you heard it first on Lola......

I drove to work today completely invisible, other cars took advantage of me at every occasion. It was my right of way and a fleet of cars abused my position on the road. I was very cross indeed.
Had a nice day yesterday, you can see my pictures if you Click here and some more if you click here

Had a very nice day yesterday, we went to a fabulous kitchen shop in Old Amersham with Graham, Jill, Angela and Doris and in the evening I got tight on red wine. Tred to get this webcam thing to work with the boys in Spain but it doesn't seem to be going to plan.
Having a lovely lazy morning for once, but the devil makes work for idle hands to do and as a consequence the ladyfriend and I have decorated the place we want in Eastbourne already before we've even bought it, let alone made an offer.
Today we are to spend our time in the fine company of Mr Clive and Mr Drew, I think we are off to tip toe around the snowdrops with my camera, hopefully this fine weather will keep so my exposures won't appear too drab.

I've pulled something in my neck, I know exactly when it happened, it was in the Thai restaurant last night. I bent down to pick up some magazines that I had put on the floor as we were leaving and I felt a twang. As a consequence, I have woken this morning with a rather uncomfortable stiffness. I need constant manipulation.
Oh god, I have two flea bites on my arm aswell from that bloody riffy dive we went into yesterday. Unbelievable, I ought to be able to sue. I don't know what it is about my blood and fleas but they seem to be drawn to me like Liz Taylor to registry offices.

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.