Felt a right prick this morning

I have just broken my fast. Because of my blood test at the surgery this morning it was no num num nibbles for Lola last night and I have made up for it in spades by consuming little Danish pastries! I've been like that bastard David Blane only a little less annoying.

It was a riot at the Doctor's. There we all were sitting with our bits of paper for the nurse tummies rumbling away. I tried not to sit in the same seat as I had last week but I couldn't help it. My primitive instinct knew that the last time I sat there no harm came to me so like a magnet I was drawn. I decided to pass on the BBC Food magazine and I flicked through a well thumbed issue of some trashy old celebrity rag to keep my thoughts steady.

There were quite a few ill people at the Doctor's, most off putting, you'd think they might have a seperate waiting room for them.

Dinner at the club last night with Dawn and Dave, had a lovely chinese. Swallowed a whole chilli which was a bit of a shock but not an unwelcome one. Lost the sensation of the left side of my tongue and spoke like Thora Hird for half an hour but no one seemed to notice.

Today I feel a little wan, don't think the MSG is to blame it's just boredom.

It's nil by mouth for me after 7pm tonight. How will I cope? Thank goodness I have an early appointment tomorrow morning at the doctors. They mean to drain me of blood so my normal Tuesday night 'night cap' will have to be postponed less I throw a wobbler at the lab.

Oh my gourd

My life is fabulous. Coming to work this afternoon the trees were scandalously brazen, I love autumn. I am alarmed how much I love it, infact I am not sure it is healthy to love something so much.

The ladyfriend and I were well and truly plastered yesterday by a cypriot called Helme who did a bit of cash in hand in our kitchen - yes we aided the black economy. It's downhill all the way now for our kitchen - hoorah with knobs on.

Leaving on a jet plane on Friday, I know when I'll be back again, it will be next Monday but the squidgy bit inbetween will be spent as a lost weekend in a hotel in Amsterdam and a double pneumonia in a single room........Fantastic, bulb buying, tip toeing round Anne Frankes gaff and gentle imbibing.

We're meeting the boys from Malaga, hitting the nighteries and party girls.

Hip replacement

I've changed the look of things, nice 'aint it? It's clean - like my mind.
Today the ladyfriend and I are in Eastbourne. It feels like we have not been here for ages. Bridget Jones (the single man upstairs) has been playing some nice music, we have just had a nice cup of rosie and Eastbourne is gradually begun to stir.

The sky outside is as bruised as a pensioner slipped on an icy pavement who just HAD to pop to the shop for the latest copy of "Puzzler". I am expecting a brooding tide today, gusty wind and an excellent wine for dinner.

Had an evening at Mr C and Mr D's last night. Had a rather lovely Chinese and a considerable amount of red wine. This morning I feel a little bit marinaded and somewhat garlicky and ver, ver tired - sitting at the computer isn't welcome and if it were not for the fact that I have just had some time off work I would have quite willingly "swung the lead."

Had my first mince pie last night, I know it's naughty and quite, quite wrong but I couldn't resist, Mr C and Mr D rival me in their love of Christmas and have by all accounts bought up the trimmings already. It was very agreeable indeed.

We got on to the subject of all the posh cars youngsters are driving and Mr C made a valid point. As mortgages are unattainable around these parts as house prices are astronomical, youngsters hoping to get a foot on the ladder have no choice but to live at home until they are 40 and therefore have disposable incomes, therefore they splash out on ego boosting, flash cars as away of expressing their worth and position in society. I think he may be right......he's very rarely wrong.

What I miss most is times like these (4pm) when I could be walking home from school, coat done up to the top, wind tickling my legs, leaves swirling round my shoes and the yellow lights of shops soaking the pavements. There is a heavy price to pay when you grow up.

I've got to have more tests than a smoking beagle. Oh I hope my diary doesn't turn into one of those horrendous broadsheet saga's where a columnist harps on about their "condition" and ends up publishing in both paperback and hardback and turning up on "Loose women". However, I have always wanted a makeover in Good Housekeeping so who knows? It is rather tempting.......

Last night I tried eating Mackerel with rice and mango chutney, it wasn't that succesful. If you, like me, enjoy your food then I highly recommend this website Hugh Fernley Whittingstall I love him and long for his lifestyle (except the problem hair) I am trying to follow his ideas and have begun to eat seasonally. I have been up to my ears in figs this week.

oooh Matron

I'm off to the doctors today - after being snubbed for someone who no doubt had mild indigestion - I'm not looking forward to it. I am presenting myself with a rather sensitive issue which no doubt is a result of hormones, the onslaught of alzheimers or lost luggage - either way I shall have to watch what she does with the angle poise.

Think of me at 3.30 flicking through some tawdry women's magazine sitting next to some young mother with a snotty kid running up and down and opposite an eastern european in leather with a paisley lining. Oh I am not keen to go.

Boom and bloody bust

Hooraah! The Ladyfriend and I are wired up right - although some may beg to differ. My handsome brother has sorted out the kitchen in Eastbourne and we are all ready to get plastered. Happy days indeed.

Another stroke of luck was I found the next book of the "Under the Tuscan sun" lady in Oxfam on Saturday. £2.99 (it was a hardback) So I am happier than a little piglet.

Whilst in Marlow on Saturday I was clipped by a passing motorist. I was walking along trying to avoid hideous Saturday shoppers, people who should not normally be on the streets - men who are normally desk bound Monday to Friday who dither about with their irritable children whilst wearing "leisure" clothes. I hate these men with a passion, they run companies but have absolutely no social skills, spend about an hour trying to buy something and treat everyone else like their secretaries. I have lost count of the times I have been bumped into, ignored and incensed by these men and it aint pretty.

Anyway, back to my story, yes, I was skipping along the pavement and wack, I was clipped with this wing mirror, it didn't hurt, fortunately my solid frame kept me upright but for crying out loud! What if I had been a child? Still a child in Marlow on Saturday would have been acompanied by a father dressed in GAP clothing and it would most probably have been quite funny. Oh whatever.

I tell you something it's a worrying trend around these parts but every car I pass is a posh one. Where are all the Ford Fiestas? I am sick of the Yuppies fleeing the pox in London and swanning it up around here. Silver cars, flash BMWs, sporty little numbers, teenagers looking like extra's from Hollyoakes, I don't like the look of it. I think the answer is lady guillotine and it aint a long way off.

What a pullover. I have just been to the doctors and whilst waiting for my consultation with the apothecary I was yanked over to reception and told that the lady with the stethoscope had been called out on an emergency - a very peculiar practise indeed. So there we are, I was told I could wait for an indefinite time or reschedule my appointment. So there we go, Lola gets no attention. I've got to go back on Tuesday, I'd had a bath and everything.

Spooky

Just wacked the name of the book into google and got this http://tuscansun.movies.go.com/main.html they've gone and made it into a film which is about to be released! I bought the book in a rumble* on saturday! What a coincidence. The film looks better than the book for once.

*jumble sale

The last two days I have been under the weather, I took to my bed on Monday afternoon and am now back up and in some degree of good health. I was as dizzy as a top and really rather wan. During my malady I read a book about an American bird who bought and renovated a property in Tuscany. I was having a lovely time reading it, salivating away over her descriptions of roasted red peppers but then, three chapters from the end, she became terribly self indulgent and I was left dissapointed and hope now, her and her villa crumble in an earthquake. Why do books do that to you? I would have tidied it all up under a loggia in the company of warty old Italian ladies chewing prosciutto but she went all odd. Poor shame.

Last night the Ladyfriend and I were shopping for Cumberland sausage and the old mobile rang and there I was chatting gamely away somewhere between the dry goods and the pickled onions. As mobile phones are becoming more commonplace I have become slightly less embarassed about talking into them in public spaces. I skulked in a doorway in Rye with one on Saturday and last night I tried to keep it down but I think I am growing in confidence. You won't catch me proudly barking into one oblivious to others but I think I have hit that wall of shame and passed through it.

Today I have a publicity officer from Ealing Council coming to see me which is nice. I'm not a good mixer so I hope he doesn't stay too long.

You should have seen me this morning. I had to tip toe across a frosty lawn in my towelling robe and Afghan slipper socks in a valiant attempt to smash the ice on the bird bath. To the neighbours I must have looked like Baby Jane Hudson as I launched myself across the crunchy grass. I had to look after the little sparrows that were smashing their delicate beaks on the ice.

It was totally unexpected however, I must keep more intuned to weather reports. I'm so glad I brought my delicates inside at the weekend. My chilli plant is amazing and is dangling with its fruits like an old chandelier, this sharp frost would have meant disaster and a few bland mealtimes for the Ladyfriend and I.

With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy

The ladyfriend and I were on our way to work this morning talking about Barbara Streisand and I heard her say the funniest thing "It's not just gay people that love Barbara". I laughed.

This morning I am full of energy and positive mental attitude. I think it was the steak I ate last night. I think we all need flesh flash fried with a splash of redwine to get us going. I was standing in Starbucks last week waiting like an idiot at the end of that table that is pitched too high to lean on for my latte when an edgy girl, pale and very uninteresting stood next to me. Her hair was dry and wiry, she was skinny as a rake, tall, lank and ghoulish. Anyway, guess what she ordered? Decaf with soya milk! I mean I ask you? She barely had enough energy to pick the cup up - hardly a picture of health.

I don't pop my cork for every man I see

Had a lovely weekend down on the coast. The sun kept its grip on the situation and my face is ruby red from the wind blast it received on the beach yesterday. I saw a walnut on a walnut tree which was a first, it was growing in Rye which is rapidly turning into my favourite place at the moment. I bought a gravy/fat seperator from a beautiful kitchenware shop there which was rather ritzy with two floors.

I usually judge towns by wether they have a Woolworths or not and Rye is no exception. Rye has a rather dinky one nestled in its ancient high street.

The weeks now seem stuffed with social engagements and this that and the other and I now feel rather rushed off my feet and in need of a pocket diary - one with a whole week over two pages with about an inch to scribble in each day. I can see the waitress taking the dessert plates of this year away and coming back to see if coffee is required. It's been a fabulous year and I can see me leaving a whopping tip.

Did you SCRUB the BATHROOM FLOOR today? DID YOU?

Oh the South Coast beckons this weekend, we are off tonight on a moonlit flight to the pied de et terre, hitting the A22 - the artery to paradise. I am very glad, I have an old bit of driftwood I intend to fashion into a coat hook (it looks better than it sounds) that I found on the shore at Seven Sisters . The man in Country Living magazine won't be pleased. He lives there and makes his living beach combing and selling on at highly inflated prices. I fancy that lifestyle. I'd like to live in a shack, dressed in a blue smock, rough stubbly white beard, wind chapped with a gauloise between my craggy lips. It must be a nice lifestyle living life by the tide.

The hooks I want are sitting in a junk shop in Rye at the moment. Beautiful hooks which I wish I had bought when I saw them. Take note everyone, buy it when ya see it or repent at leisure. All I can say is if they are all sold out I wouldn't want to be in the Ladyfriend's shoes.

Fig.1

I have been feeling in a state of limbo just lately. I have five weeks until the ladyfriend and I fly up/across to Amsterdam, I have a kitchen in Eastbourne that looks like the Somme, Christmas I am told is 98 days away and now outside the sun has a huge sombrero on. I am teetering on the brink of excitement. I feel like an amateur production of swan lake. I feel as though I am waiting in the wings ready to launch on to stage but there's a fat lady with a moustache and a clip board holding me back.

The ladyfriend feels just the same. We are powerless with the kitchen saga as there are links in chains and finances dictate that we can't thumb the yellow pages until November. So we have to trundle on with horse hair sticking out of the walls and flat packs strewn everywhere....they say it will be all over by Christmas - but which bloody one?

Summer for me is turning into one of those spots on your face that just do not go away remaining full of gunk and prominence longer than necessary. I am back in my sandals today and linen trousers (to allow maximum comfort and air circulation).

It's not without its compensations though as the ladyfriend suggested that if it stays like this we could go to the beach at the weekend. This did make me more perky as it means a visit to the Italian Ice cream parlour for a bacon sandwhich enroute to the seafront! The best bit about this establishment is - along with the bargain prices and 70's decor - the clock on the wall which on the hour opens up and little people come out dancing and playing music. It's tacky, it's wacky but I love it!

Rumba

Today I would like to raise a glass to Peter Ryan who is having a funeral at 2pm, well having his one and only funeral I suppose. He was/is a lovely bloke who never realised how much he was loved.

This weekend the ladyfriend and I have been looking after William at my mother's house. It has been quite a treat to use lovely soft thick towells, watch sky television and use other peoples toilletries - I can't resist new shampoo.
We seem to have done alright, one of the cats is missing but that's not bad in my book.

At least I didn't fake it, hat, sir I guess I didn't make it

When does the devil piss on the blackberries? I don't think I have got long before nature's fruits turn sour. I have given up on the old pomodoro, they are still bright green and are not exhibiting the slightest signs of turning red. What am I to do for the harvest festival this year? I shall have to buy a can of ratatouille for the altar.

I must now announce my new favourite female impersonator. Take a look at Lypsinka when you can. I sat and listened to a selection of his favourite records yesterday and was scribbling names down like a demon.

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

The conker trees are heavy with their bounty! Hoorah! The ladyfriend and I spied our first tree turning leaf this morning. Happy, happy day. It is dark now at 8pm and there is certainly a fresh nip in the air in the morning. Thank goodness summer is in retreat.

This morning whilst applying Clinique facial products I have been wrestling with myself over the weighty question of wether or not to buy two tickets for the ladyfriend and I to see Bea Arthur at the Savoy. I would love to go but can I afford to shell out on the tickets that's the thing? Now I am a lady of property I unfortunately have people chipping away at my cash stash. Can I afford to go........can I afford not to?

The ladyfriend and I had to come to work on the bus this morning, the motor is being looked at, it keeps conking out at inconvenient times. On the way to the bus shelter we walked past the new development of posh flats built on a flood plain - you know the sort, balconies, signs of last few remaining, prestigious development, marketing suite types - anyway, I looked up at a top floor flat and as expected I saw the french doors open leading onto the balcony with a parisian style pavement cafe table and chairs on it. "Oooh I thought, how wonderful, I bet a young high flyer lives in that one". Anyway, imagine my surprise then, when who should hover into view but a woman of advanced years in a pink towelling dressing gown, curlers in hair, full slap on and a fag hanging out of her mouth. Fantastic.

I should think her neighbours are quite alarmed that instead of Zero 7 or David Gray floating around her flat they get that nice Cliff Richards. I bet she sits out on her balcony reading the Sun drinking instant coffee and munching Sugar Puffs! Good on her. It's time the backlash started.

Back at work and two weeks off hasn't stopped me feeling bitter and twisted. But hey ho. Had a nice time down on the coast, went to Rye, Lewes, Brighton, Hastings, all sorts. Played crazy golf. Watched Mulholland Drive - have no idea what that was about, watched Pauline et Paulette which was alright. Joined the Eastbourne library and was stunned to read how the flat had a close shave with the luftwaffe.
Found an amazing fossil on the beach - my first! Drank a staggering amount of booze. Bought the soundtrack to Follies.

Howzatt!

Last day at work. Two weeks off. Oh how sweet this day doth be. Oh and the cricket is starting today! I am into cricket at the moment. Last year it was the World Cup and this year my attentions are squarely set on our boys in white, next year it will probably be dressage.

I'm not entirely offay with the rules though, but it doesn't impare my enjoyment of the game, not one bit. The only thing that upsets me about the tv coverage is that you don't get that lovely theme tune you got on the BBC but I shall just have to live with that kind of progress afterall Cricket is the new black.

Don't mess with Mr In between

Woke up this morning - late again, polished off the last drop of Merlot - and had the theme tune to Midsommer Murders going in my head. I do like the programme. The ladyfriend and I are quite fanatical about it in fact. It amazes me that there are so many episodes.

Got to use new shampoo today! I love opening new bottles and this is a brand I have never tried before so I am quite cock-a-hoop. I am waiting to see if what it says on the packaging will bear any fruit. They do make some outlandish claims these days and we are willingly taken in.

Whilst in Brighton at the weekend a man had a stall in the North Laines selling "Milk Thistle" for the liver and all kinds of potions and lotions it is almost as if we have taken a step back to the days of those American sideshow medicine sellers that used to roll into town - well Little House on the Prarie land anyway. I call for a clamp down.

Talking of hair, I always think of Brian Cant when I dry my hair with a towell as I remember him saying once that is a very dangerous thing to do, but I can't remember when, but it has stayed with me to this day.

Sleigh bells ring

Last night after a couple of glasses of white wine and two generous tumblers of Baileys conversation led to Christmas and I am in a festive frenzy as a result. I even managed - in a drink fuelled stupor - to dig out a December edition of Good Housekeeping (complete with Nigella on the front - a bit silly when the woman is obviously Jewish). It enthused about forward thinking when planning a yuletide meal - I think the ladies at GH will be proud of me. I am going to buy a turkey today!

Just been looking at the local paper and two young girls who have obviously been born on the wrong side of the tracks, if you get my drift, called Chelsi and Coral-Lee are pictured. Were their parents (probably parent.....I think we are talking singular here) taking the piss? What is it with the ridiculous names families give their children for crying out loud? I can't see Coral Lee making it out of the mire of income support. As for Chelsi, well, surely inspiration must have come from some mucky film star.
Really, I can just hear some obese, chain smoking mother dressed in a vest and leggings screaming out "Coral-Lee!!!!!" at the top of her lard coated voice. I bet she thinks, as she fences another stolen DVD player, that her daughters name is special.

All I need is moonlight, music and you

Had a fantastic weekend full of aeroplanes, sofa's, sunshine, brighton, hastings and prawns! Ooh, it was wonderful and I have the photographs to prove it Click here if you don't believe me.

Just four more days and counting till I jump this leaky ship of toil and head off for two weeks of holiday. Hoobloodyray. Talking of the peculiar - I woke up early on saturday and saw the Boobahs - what the hell is that all about?

Hit that perfect beat boy

Tonight the Ladyfriend and I are leaving for the coast for the weekend! We are expecting a delivery of a verynice sofa from Cargo. Apparently it is their most popular sofa ever, well so the bird told me in the tight fitting t-shirt in the shop anyway - big busted but she knew her product.

Great news today, my goodlooking brother called and for my birthday treat he is going to take me to see Echo and the Bunnymen doing their 25 year anniversary concert in November. Oh lucky me, to have such a good looking brother I say.

By the way, I've slipped down a gear into a kind of eighties fug, I have become very political and rejecting of popular music, hey, guess what? Letter to Breshnev has been released on DVD....Lola wants, Lola wants!

Eat coal

I am continually fed up with the scary looking women on breakfast tv, I've no truck with the national team, oh no, that well turned out Nijinsky woman is a breath of fresh air in the morning, it's those trashy old slags on the local London news. I suppose living in the metropolis they think they can just roll into the studio at dawn after spending a night in one of these discotheques - no doubt snorting cocaine (the drug of choice I hear for staff of the BBC) Just look at this When I started my career as a copy typist I kept a sharp pencil and my hair up at all times, my finger nails were cleaner than a nuns duvet, those girls at the bbc could learn a thing or two about presentation I can tell you. Why, I was more familiar with the map of the world than my own body at their age.

Also on the programme there was a report about single parents and how they can't feed their children and how they could do with some more money please - well you know my thoughts on the matter, but the lady in the film had a very nice kitchen thankyou, with a lovely bread bin. Get that in a carboot Ms and you could feed your nippers for a week!

OK!

I am sick and tired of all these sad Z list celebrity scams Read this I give it two months after the money dries up. I am also sick of the likes of Ben Affleck and his squinty faced bride to be - who believes this stuff anyway? The man is clearly homosexual. It amazes me the lengths these 'stars' go to. It is indeed an evil industry and the devil sells the tickets.
I don't suppose it was any better in the days of Lillie Langtry. She ended up with the hand of the Prince of Wales up her crinoline. The things that poor cow did for theatre, she even ran about with the 3 am girls of her day - Oscar and Bosie.
The world is full of liars, cheats and confidence tricksters. My advice to you all is to keep your shoes clean and your passwords to yourselves.

Beside the seaside

Had a marvellous weekend, so flaming hot though! Got caught up in a hellish traffic jam on the M25 on friday afternoon for four hours. The ladyfriend and I looked like extras from Tenko when we eventually crawled into Eastbourne.

Saturday we went to Brighton Pride, Click here for picture Unfortunately we missed the parade by a sequin and trudged along behind it, feathers and flowers lined the road of dissappointment to Preston Park.

Once there it was like satan's back garden (some would say fittingly) it was so hot, we had to take shade and it did spoil our enjoyment. We left after a couple of hours and went for two lovely big Gin and Tonics in the Brighton tavern.

Sunday, the ladyfriend and I nursed our hangovers on the beach, we even took a dip, it was wonderful until I read a piece in the Times about great white sharks.

Taste sensation

Last night the Ladyfriend and I had one of those Thai Dinner take-a-way bags from Tesco, it was very, very nice......trouble is, I couldn't help wondering if the chicken I was chomping was one of those water filled, steroid pumped breasts from Holland. Read the bit about curry Not pleasant.

The sky was alive with stars last night, I was waggling my telescope around in the back garden but couldn't see a bloody thing. I don't understand telescopes, you can see more with the naked eye.

This weekend my handsome big brother is coming down to Eastbourne to tamper with the electrics in the kitchen, it looks like Sarajevo at the moment, but I am sure, with his supervision it will be transformed into something wonderful. It's quite an uphill struggle but it's men like Brunel and my big brother that this country could do with a few more of.

has the Perrier gone straight to my head

Today is supposed to hit 100 - I don't think it will. Infact it's quite surprising that I didn't wake up and the world was on fire after the gay bishop in America scandal. Fantastic news, what a brave man. Atlast an openly gay bishop - makes a change doesn't it? Perhaps now Dr Rowan Williams and the church in this country might not be so cowardly and get with the modern world. Make gay marriages legal - think bums on seats! We know how to spend money, the gay community should be embraced by the church, you want your bell tower fixed? - what colour do you want it?

Sod them, let them stick their cash raising thermometers where the sun don't shine.

As the flames rose to her roman nose

As it's a little too 'ott to mention and my hands are already slipping on my mouse I shall today just recommend some links for you to look at instead........Viking Kittens and also People say I look like and lastly Farting Nun

Win yourself a cheap tray

The ladyfriend and I have entered a new exciting age - we have bought a DVD player - there will be no stopping us now. We have even shelled out for a scart lead.

Went walking on Beachy Head yesterday and looked down at the med-like coast below, it was truly heart warming and soul lifting which leads me to wonder why a poor devil topped themselves on such a beautiful day. It was quite a perverse situation. The police and the coastguards were scrambled and the ladyfriend and I watched as a policeman stood holding a plastic carrier bag which belonged to the deceased. Tourists took photographs, people peered over the edge, it was quite, quite tragic.

We moved along and went back to the flat to watch the cricket.

It's so easy to hate, It takes strength to be gentle and kind

Opened the Daily Mail this morning to be slapped in the face by the pope - all this and I wasn't fully clothed.

Apparently the Ladyfriend and I (and come to think of it a large percentage of catholic priests) are evil. Geriatric twat - atleast I have control of my bladder, something I suspect he has lost along with his marbles.

All alone in bedsit land my only home

Apparently I am rehab Mark

Which Marc are you?

Bin end

Ooh, the ladyfriend opened a bottle of red last night and now I feel rather oak aged, thick and full bodied. It was lovely at the time however, I shall just have to hit the auto pilot button to get myself through the day. I shall not be executing any tricky maneuvers that's for sure.

Just been reminded to watch Bad Girls tonight our two favourite characters are back in it properly - thanks to Michelle Robertson for that. This series has lasted a long time.....or is it me?

Found out last night that the Ladyfriend was a premature baby which accounts for her short attention span and her propensity for sleeping in incubators.

Sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled making Christmas cards with the mentally ill

I read in this morning's paper that the BBC are toying with the idea of shunting Top of the Pops off onto one of those digital channels because viewing figures are low. Surely all they have to do is move it into Children's Hour where it would receive the correct audience. I have not watched TOTP (as it's called these days) for a long time, I wouldn't know what number one is to save my life. Last time I did watch the programme it was nothing more than a parade of precocious children presented by a screaming girl dressed as a hooker.

No, it's not like it used to be back in the days of my yoof. Thursday night was the highlight of the week. My mother and I danced around the drawing room to the latest sounds from Bowie, Kool and the Gang, Stevie Wonder and that man who killed himself. Happy Days, happy days indeed.

Shortcrust, filo or puff

Wonderful site this morning, got out of the car and there on a prickly bush were big, plump blackberries positively pregnant with flavour - Autumn my lovelies is a foot. I can feel it's breath on the air, it's birth on the wind. I have had it with this al fresco dining and the never ending articles about cellulite. I spy a chunky jumper, beach combing in wellies - hurrah!

Hairdresser on fire

This is just a test, you must ignore it and think only of other things.

Just been to the Mayor's parlour - get me - where he unveiled his new website. I had a sherry and talked to a very nice man, didn't understand a word he said. I stood there chomping a slice of celebratory sponge cake looking at the mayor who certainly has Marty Feldman eyes.

This week is going to be a nice week, I have decided, I am going to inject it with vim and vigour, always good to start it off on a good foot, good karma. I have Ushma to thank for installing a little bit of her eastern culture in me, she has written my name in Gudgerati on my arm in Bic Biro (think David Beckham) I look a right bobby dazzler.

Just got home from another wonderful weekend down in Eastbourne. On Saturday we went down to the beach where the local pagan society were holding their Lammas day festival Click here for pictures where we had a very nice time and two pints of lager.

testing testing testing

I've been buggering about with the website again, I have the attention span of a goldfish these days. Normal service will resume shortly.

The sky is beginning to bruise, I think it's going to lash down, it won't spoil my day though because Eastbourne sits at the end of it. The Ladyfriend and I are leaving earlier tonight, hopefully to get there for Bad Girls as Stephanie Beacham and Amanda Barrie are back in it! Two women the Ladyfriend and I aspire to.

This weekend in Eastbourne there is a big pagan festival on the seafront and a skateboarding extravaganza! I intend to take my camera, Morris Dancers on wheels. How exciting. I am going to stay at arms length from the unbelievers - I've seen the wicker man.

Got my hopes dashed last night, I thought we were going to see a video of the last episode of Cutting it but instead it was an older episode so I still don't know who won North West Salon of the Year. I could go on the Cutting it website but I am still hoping my mother will have the right tape somewhere and she hasn't taped over it with "Cash in the attic".

The ladyfriend and I are in a quandry over tiles for our kitchen, we have seen some we like but we are a bit worried it may end up looking like the gentlemens lavvies at Charing Cross train station - you have to be so careful. The faint wiff of piss floats on the Eastbourne air already - what with the ageing population - we don't want to bring it into the home.

We are on a tight budget at the moment (home buying is a green light to people wanting money off me) so we are actually starting to eat food that is in the freezer! Instead of bringing home delicacies from the delis we are starting to chip into my stockpile for the nuclear winter. I must get inventive with the barlotti beans or it's the bancruptcy courts for the pair of us.

The ladyfriend and I got rather tight on white wine last night. The first bottle was gorgeous which prompted us to open another and the rest as they say is history. Thank God we were inebriated, it certainly made watching Ruby Wax and Liza with a 'Z' enthralling entertainment. How that poor woman has suffered at the hands of a surgeon (Liza) her eyes are so far apart she looks like a blowfish. She's certainly her mother's daughter. What a voice though, once she's gone there's no one to replace her. Poor OLD Petula Clark, my goodness, she looked like Rod Stewart and that's on a good day.

We managed to crawl across the floor and bung a video in so we have the horror of it all captured for posterity.

Had a lovely weekend down in 1066 country - the ladyfriend and I took a trip out in the motor and headed off Hastings bound. Enroute we dipped our toe in Pevensey Bay and Bexhill very nice. On arriving in Hastings things started to fall apart, I can only best describe it as Calais, bit rough and industrial on the edges. When we got into the old town it was quite a different story and one with a happy ending as there were rambling cobbled streets with antique and bric-a-brac shops galore! I was itching to buy many items of Victoriana but the ladyfriend and my ailing bank balance stopped me.

I think Hastings will be an absolute treat to visit when the holiday makers go back to their tenaments. Oooh they were rough - rings through the noses, tattoos of naked ladies, colourful language replica sportswear and big patches of sunburn (as my mother says - they just don't catch the sun the same way we do)
I kept my hand on my h'appeny at all times in Hastings!

Just finished mowing the grass - I know! It's only ten to twelve! The ladyfriend has gone through the house with a vacuum cleaner in one hand and a duster in the other, we are unstoppable and have managed to lick the whole house in one morning. I got carried away with the grass cutting and have even shaved my legs - it's so addictive!

The rest of the weekend is ours. Tonight we are off to Mr C & Mr D's to rendezvous with a medieval swordsmith and tomorrow we are hitting the road to the coast.

One downside to today is the schools have broken up so there will be no let up of screaming from next door and burglaries will be on the increase.

I know yesterday I was yarping on about how people involved in scandal become celebrities but I must eat my words as I desire that the family of Toby Studabaker are signed up immediately. Just look at them Both Leo and Sherry are made for stardom.

I pray to the god of daytime tv that some quick thinking producer snaps them up before you can say 'Shania Twain'. I can't wait to see the Hello photoshoot after they are saturated in lolly and fall into the hands of Bobby Trendy Wonderful. We need more white trash now the Beckhams are heading off to the Med.

Tonight I can be found with the mother in law in Ikea chomping on meatballs.

Morality: This morning the ladyfriend and I were discussing the subject of morality and society - this prompted by the imminent return of Angus Deayton to British Television. We were both in agreement that scandal aint what it used to be. Why, only a few years ago it was 'off wiv her head' for Carol Vorderman after she was seen advertising detergent. Her BBC contract was torn up and it was bye bye for the mathematical genius, not so for Angus. Atleast the powder Carol was pushing was clean!

We were also pondering on scandals in history that, were they to happen today, would they have the same outcome. Take the Profumo affair. As a result of a couple of call girls and a russian spy the government toppled and a man committed suicide. If it happened today Stephen Ward would probably have his own show on Channel 5 and Christine and Mandy Rice-Davies (surely a name for showbiz) would be atop of the hit parade (think the cheeky girls).

No, it's all quite wrong. Anyhow, thank god the sun has taken his hat off for the day, my word, it's been like a turkish bath at work - there aren't any fat men with moustaches wacking me with a towel but you get me drift.

Please feel free to use my exciting new message board, isn't it fabulous? You don't need to register and you can say whatever you like. Have a play with it, I can always delete the mucky stuff.......if I want to.

A lady (from Warrington - though living locally) in a flowery blouse (smart but casual) came round last night to do my Will. She was very good and it was very easy. It's brilliant how so much can be done in the home nowadays. It's certainly moved on from mops and brush salesmen at your door. An absolute boon for the agorophobic. You can live quite happily without ever having to leave your bed.........although I personally would not like to entertain an insurance salesman in my bed jacket.
I went for a basic will, nothing fancy, no complicated clauses - not yet anyway. I am now able to update and change things when and where I like which will keep the ladyfriend on her toes.
It was very interesting as when the will lady (who is incidentally rushed off her feet at the moment, she's had a rush on - it's her prices I told her, that and her flexibility) opened up her black (good colour under the circumstances) presentation folder, I noticed some photocopies of newspaper reports on Jill Dando. These were obviously in her folder to shock and convince me to buy her product, but I wonder which one? What horror stories did Jill Dando's bereaved relatives face? I would have thought Jill would have left her affairs in order, she always looked the type. One should not judge a book by it's cover I suppose, nor for that matter a television presenter.

Had a fab time at the coast this weekend, we bought a bed from Steve the camp bed seller. Self assembly. Mr Clive and Mr Drew came down and did numerous DIY jobs which have made our flat much better and inaccesible to undesirables. Had my first dip in the sea atlast. I have gone deaf in the left ear, I am expecting a winkle to pop out onto my desk this week after it has consumed half of my brain.
Met the neighbours atlast. Have you seen Rosemary's baby?

Had a dream last night that I was parading around in a wedding dress. Quite disturbing but I looked lovely. It's thursday again which means one thing - Eastbourne! Tra la la! Kitchen is being delivered tomorrow, how exciting, will the delivery man speak? Will he be a chirpy card after a cup of tea or will he be a grunter without a personality?
One thing's for sure it will be nice to have the front door open for a little while. Kitchen smells do tend to settle in the communal areas at our flat, the other residents tend to favour traditional english fare and the faint aroma of cabbage tends to pervade. The ladyfriend and I intend to place a discreet plug in somewhere.
Mr Clive and Mr Drew are arriving on Friday, our first house guests, we shall have them hard at it before they take their coats off. (kitchen unit assembly)

Girlfriend in a coma I know, I know it's serious.
What a hot day. I know it's going to be a struggle. I am sure I shall feel like one of those victorian ladies who are journeying to the centre of the earth with a mad scientist. By the end of the day my hair will be dishevelled, my white starched shirt frayed at the edges and I'll have a smudge of mud on my chops. Got time for an adventure? I am sure today like every other day I will encounter perculiar monsters .

Heard one of my favourite sounds this morning - a man hammering - it floated into my open window as I took a deep breath and zipped up my trousers. There is nothing I like more than the sound of toil on a sunny morning. It makes me feel like I live in a medieval village and someone is mending their thatch.

Hope this weather holds for the weekend, I intend to take the boat trip round to Beachy head.

To Mr Clive and Mr Drew's last night. Made quite a merry time of it. We drank and ate a hearty meal of meat and salad. I ate rather a lot but strangely now feel rather famished. My slice of toast this morning does not have seemed to have touched the sides. I am thinking this is because last nights tea was one of those Marmalade Aitkins meals where the abscence of carbohydrates has caused this vacuum. I have had to shove a banana down till the sandwhich lady turns up.

I am a little concerned as I have not seen the pheasant for a while, one of our neighbours is one of those yuppie types and I reckon he's hanging in his pantry (the pheasant) Oh how he must have suffered. Still nature is a cruel thing. We have attracted Doves to the garden now which is excellent, we have a huge sparrow family, two fat wood pigeons and a blackbird but what I really want to see is a couple of tits on the lawn of a morning, then I'll be happy.

Take two red peppers, a handful of parsley, two cloves of garlic, salt and black pepper add a splash of olive oil. Put the lot in a bender, pulse it up till it's coarsley chopped. Smear it on top of four chicken breasts. Put them in the oven for 30 minutes and well, a taste sensation is all I can say.

Wedding was fantastic at the weekend, had a wonderful time. I had to steady the ladyfriend in church. Her knees buckled when she saw her niece bounding up the aisle into matrimony, she can be very emotional at times and yet at others as hard as nails (I have the scars to prove it)

We stayed in the hotel where the reception was which made things far easier, what a ritzy gaff, I made sure I pocketed the toiletries when we left, you have to don't you? I have always admired the world in minature and the temptation of little bottles of shampoo become too much sometimes.

Click for Pictures

Yesterday the ladyfriend and I went to a marvellous wedding. Angela and Peter finally tied the knot! If you would like to see photographs of this event please Click here
Had an absolutely lovely time. I am off now to roast a couple of chicken breasts, I'll tell more tomorrow.

Today is the day for Angela's wedding and the ladyfriend and I are off to Thatcham (very flat place, no hills) to chuck conffetti. I quite like weddings and this one will be good as the ladyfriend and I have a full day pass - not just turning up in smart cardigans for the evening do. This means we can consume booze and food steadily throughout the whole day. Infact, by luck or design I am not sure, the sleeves on my outfit are ideal for hiding pork pies and slim glasses of champagne up them! We are going to have a fabulous time. I hope that there is a strange distant uncle who drinks a lot and dances to The Beach Boys, there always is one.

I'm all fingers and thumbs today, sank a bottle of wine with the Ladyfriend last night - that old chestnut - so we are both feeling a little bit riffy this morning. Whilst putting off getting out of bed this morning I was flicking through an old copy of Red magazine ( a Christmas edition with that screeching banshee Davina Mccall on the cover ) I was getting wafts of old perfume sachets and stubbled on an article about stress. It said you should have a bath with essential oils, candles and chill out music when you feel stressed out - oh please, does anyone actually ever have time for that? The thought of bathing with Moby and a pack of household candles fills me with terror. Too many accidents are caused in the domestic bathroom these days and I blame magazines like Red for perpetuating them. Best thing to do when you want to relax is slip a couple of nembutal and drive out to Aylesbury.

I hate to say it but I really must confess, I am starting to pine for Autumn. I was putting a picture of Jamie Oliver on the website at work and he was dressed in a big chunky roll neck and his face was pale and I thought "oh". Then I looked outside at the sunshine and thought "enough no more, tis not so sweet now as it was before."
I will admit there are a few things I want to do before the summer ends, I long to pluck tomatoes from the vine, buy a rubber blow up boat and sit and listen to a brass band. Apart from that I am ready for extra layers, a windsheeter, perhaps a hat for the evening and leaves! The smell of decay! The whiff of a sunday afternoon bonfire!

I was thinking on the way to work this morning how the position the country is in now , another country occupied so many hours ago. As the world spins and we all get our go in daylight and moonlight so must we therefore share different postitions. It's kind of like when you step on an aeroplane and sit still in the seat yet travel vast distances yet move physically not a jot. So each day we have quite a time of it and we don't realise. I wonder, wouldn't it be nice if people could suspend nice treats for us, some food or other objects related to their culture so that we could have them when we wake up. I am sure some offshoot of the space programme could produce this technology, indeed I suspect it already exists.

Had a bit of a huge weekend. Went down to Eastbourne on Thursday night with LBC making the M25 anti-clockwise a little more pleasant. Spent our first night in the flat on blow up camp beds which were more than adequate for our needs. Went the next day to town and sat outside Isobel's cafe which I think is the 'in' place to be. We sat there with a bacon sandwhich and watched the zimmer frames go by.

In the afternoon we took ourselves off to MFI and bought a kitchen! Tres bien. It is quite an amazing thing to watch the CAD design and produce your kitchen, amazing.. However, when the quote was too high and we asked to lose the "thrills" the nice salesman stopped buttering us up. Instead, when he saw we were bargain basement, the gloss dropped and his sales patter was more low fat margarine.

Saturday I spent most of the day erecting gazebos for my stepdad's mother's 90th birthday. The party was yesterday and was an enormous success, most of the ladies were dressed in Berkertex and the garden a sea of grey hair but we had a marvellous time.

We're off down to Eastbourne tonight, we haven't been there since the 17th June, what will our new neighbours think of us? Our mail must be stacking up in the communal stair well. They probably think we are a flighty pair, that or we are dead. I hope we don't get there and the door is off it's hinges.

We are going to MFI tomorrow as they have a half price sale on, I am clapping my hands with joy, a spanking new kitchen for Lola! It's all quite too much for a girl to take. My God I've grown up.

I am a little concerned, one of my beautiful boys from Malaga has his birthday tomorrow and our package has not yet arrived for him. I hope it gets there by the skin of its teeth because he 'turns' when he thinks folk have forgotten him. Their photographs of the ladyfriend and I in various relaxed poses with be torn to ribbons, such will be his frenzy.

Watched that vile creature Graham Norton last night - why has nobody told that man to stop? - glad I did though because K D Lang and the legendary Tony Bennett were on. How Ms Lang has bloated in the space of a few years, it must be all the tofu.

Did you know we spend more time at work than any other country? It's doing us no good. I want to be where the sun warms the sky, when it's time for siesta you can watch them go by. It's not like the continent when they have days off at a drop of a sombrero. All this hard work counts for nothing, we are the toilet of europe with a rail service worse than India, where is the logic? Perhaps it is the fault of a protestant religion. Perhaps we should revert to catholisicm, all those saints = lots of day's of. Still it could get a bit sticky for my 'side of the church', mind you all that free wine and wafers would make up for the homophobia.

On a more serious note get behind The Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams who knows, perhaps I won't always be the bridesmaid afterall!

Aah, I have just been harrassed by a young welsh woman working for British Gas, talk about breaking a girl in gently, it's only 9.05am and I have been steered into a direct debit I may live to regret.

The ladyfriend and I have an intelligent pheasant that comes to our garden. We have called him Piggy because of the huge amount of bird seed he consumes. It's really queer though because at the weekends he turns up from about 12pm onwards yet in the week he crashes into the garden about 7.30am. How does he know our movements? Do you think we are sitting on a gold mine and - with the appropriate training - we might enter him into a contest and scoop top prize?

Coming to work this morning I spotted three pensioners laden with shopping, why don't they space things out a little? They've got all day to do their shopping and nothing else to do but tend their bloody Dahlias. Perhaps it is the Wimbledon effect and they want to get all their 'jobs' done before Virginia Wade fills their horse brass filled sitting rooms.

My eyes don't feel puffy today, I was beginning to wonder if it was an adverse reaction to my impulse buy of odourless garlic tablets - good for the heart and circulation you know. I feel as right as rain now. A bit clammy, but I think that's something to do with the atmosphere at work.

I made a lovely potato salad last night, unfortunately I only had reduced calorie mayonaisse but it was made into a taste sensation with the addition of a healthy tablespoon of creme fraiche - there's a tip for you.

I am rather happy as I have changed my hours at work so that I don't have to start at 8am on a Wednesday. I have moved it to 9 instead, far more civilized. I have been doing the same ungodly hours for the last 5 years and it's telling on the complexion. I once had the skin of a princess, I now look not disimiliar to a cowboys arse.

My eyes feel bulbous today, I fear I may have developed hayfever, I suspect at this stage in my life it is down to GM crops. Last night I went to my first ever hen night, I had a lovely time but am slightly dissapointed as there were no chickens or eggs to be seen so I am left slightly perplexed and confused at this odd pre-marital tradition.

Yesterday the ladyfriend and I had a wonderful surprise whilst out shopping for a new sofa. We met Peter, a friend we both used to work with. We took tea with him at his house. It was wonderful to see him. He is a highly skilled dancer who has been in several productions (Evita no less) our own little Nureyev. I love serendipity, perhaps under Peter's tuition, I might master the rhumba.

I have banned all fun until the ladyfriend is better, as a consequence we have not gone to Eastbourne this weekend and are taking things one day at a time. I fed her steak and chips last night and all ready the colour has started to return to her cheeks.

I watched the sun rise this morning (what with it being Summer solstice and all) I bathed my face in the morning dew - supposed to do wonders for your complexion - my photographs of the splendid astronomical event can be seen if you click here

It's weird but at 4am my hair looks alright but at 9am it looks like Napoleon, what on earth happens in those five hours of sleep that turns me into a moose?

I am grieving today for my mini. She is gone from me. I had a bit of "moment" last night and was quite, quite upset. I don't know if it was to make me better but the ladyfriend said I could buy a new kitchen for the flat in Eastbourne before we did anything else..........I think I will take full advantage of her offer and milk my sadness. I am sure I will feel a lot better chop chopping on lovely worktops!

Caught a whole episode of Big Brother for the first time this year and I am aghast and a little moved to wonder what George Orwell would make of this cattle market of wannabies. I wonder - if he were alive today - would he have ever got out his trusty Remington if he knew what his dystopian novel was going to influence.
"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face--for ever." Imagine reality tv forever. That fills me with more horror than an intrusively bureaucratized state. Bring back the potter's wheel.

I was up at the crack of dawn yesterday. At 6 am my heart was racing and I took myself off to feed the birds whilst I tried to get a grip on the situation. It was like a hundred job interviews and a hundred Christmas day's at the same time!
We got the call from Michele with one L at 10:56 telling us the flat was ours. We were off down to Eastbourne with a fridge rattling in the back and a wealth of expectations.
Waltzed into Andrews the estate agent to pick up the keys (really, they are awful) and climbed the communal stairs of flat ownership. Tried to get in the wrong flat at first (I was excited.)
The ladyfriend and I sat elated on the living room carpet which was full of dents where furniture once stood. The place needs a good lick of paint and the kitchen needs ripping out but it's fab, fantastic and it's ours.

Well, I am a flurry of emotions. In 24 hours the ladyfriend and I will have the flat in Eastbourne, I have just learnt that an Antipodean pixie will buy Blanche my beautiful mini and last night I saw the wonderful Eddie Reader sing. Life can not get any better for Lola.

I am sad about Blanche but glad she is going to a careful and considerate mini lover. My Mother has given the Ladyfriend and I a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and I am sure that will cushion the blow.

I am a bit mixed up and lost for words today, I feel like a kiddy giddy with excitement on Christmas Eve. I shall write more in my journal on Wednesday.

I am not adjusting well to being a Ford Fiesta driver. I seem to be completely invisible to other road users. People seem to walk all over me. It was my right away last night (it was even sign posted so) and a stream of twat yuppies coming out of the new health club trampled all over me. I had to pap my horn and all kinds. Infact, it was a bit of a close shave as one of the drivers was a black girl and it was just my luck she drove past as I was mouthing "anker". Now I look like some kind of racist.

My long time companion, the ladyfriend, is having a time of it. The fever has gripped her and tormenting nightmares have set upon her. Last night I heard a disturbance downstairs fallowed by a cough. "It's just the ladyfriend" I thought, probably getting herself some light refreshment. This morning I found out she had fallen down the stairs!

I hope she is right as rain for Sunday as we have tickets to see Eddi Reader the greatest singer left on earth now Frank Sinatra has passed over. I am very excited. She's the best.

My mini has now passed its MOT and is taxed up the eyeballs and ready to roll off the forecourt. I am rather sad as we've been through a lot together. She symbolizes freedom for me, she gave me back confidence, she got me from A to B and now she has to go. I'm not losing a car , I'm gaining a sofa. If anyone is interested in a beautiful car for £800 ono email: lola@lifeforlola.co.uk

I've been driving the ladyfriend's fiesta - who is incidentally off work with a filthy cold - it's incredibly difficult to adjust to. It feels like driving an articulated lorry after the mini. Just when I think I have got the hang of it and I am motoring along I look down and I'm only going at 20mph. I need re-educating in the ways of the gear stick.

Today I am dressed for the holiday camp as I hear it's going to be 72 degrees, I work in greenhouse like conditions so you have to double that and add some. It's not going to do my pores any good and that's the truth.

Football tonight, that should be painful.

I saw on the news this morning that the Princess Royal is off down to Eastbourne today, my she has good taste. I hope the press packs do not trample on the carpet gardens. I was also watching in quiet bemusement at the amount of people who enter number 10 downing street before 8am. There I was with my wholemeal toast listening to some ropey old bird talking about the Euro when countless people knocked on the black door. In and out like a vet's right arm they were.

I also looked in horror at that midget viking woman who does the travel news on the "news in your area section". She is always dressed a little too casual for my taste and her expression is one of someone who has just been shot out of a cannon.

Late entry today, I have been busy writing frightening verse to a bucktooth girl in Luxemburg. Who else watched it last night? Bloated and camp but still wonderful, there's no chance of Morrissey turning up on "I'm a celebrity revive my career".
Had a diverting weekend. Friday I was tight on Harvey Wallbangers - badly influenced by a woman called Dawn who could show Richard Burton a thing or two. Saturday I broke down in a garden centre and yesterday we went to Brighton for a tip toe round the shops.
Errr, got my call up papers for the old scrape - has it really been three years? Must ring and sort that one out.
Met Michele with one L today. Gave her vast sums of money, she is a very nice woman, very posh and high flying. It must be an internal struggle for women like her, half of her yearning to sit at home with a knitting pattern from People's Friend and the other half wanting to mix it with the big boys. Oh well, she's done us proud and I will recommend her to all and sundry.

I've been rushed off my little trotters this morning. Rushing from pillar to post with the wind firmly battering my sails. Hirdy Girdy indeed. Downed a
bottle of wine and a punnet of Houmous last night. How did that happen? I was duped by the ladyfriend. We were chatting away in the kitchen and I saw her with the bottle opener but didn't compute. Before I knew it I heard "Thwook" and the cork was out and a glass was in my hand. It all happened so quickly there was nothing I could do. It was a bit like those accidents when children get run over chasing a ball. Terrible.
I have decided I have a fight on my hands if I wish to retain my girlish figure. The ladyfriend is definitely a feeder.

Driving to work this morning I suddlenly realised that I can't remember the last time I knew what record was number one. The hit parade is a complete unknown to me. Is this because I am advancing in years? Is it a good thing? My exposure to popular music these days comes through advertisements and the occasional few bars I snatch when entering boutiques in the misguided attempt to look smart but casual.

Couldn't sleep a wink last night, I don't know if it was all the excitement of the imminent move or a particularly engaging episode of "Cutting it" but I was burning like a lady in Salem till the wee small hours. I had to get up and play Fifa 98 football on the computer.
I am obviously now, very, very tired and it's a miracle I made it to work in one piece. I had to concentrate extremely hard at the wheel. It didn't help listening to the soporific overtones of the Cocteau Twins. I did notice a quirk in my driving which I don't know if anyone else shares. I have this habit of when the road user in front of me slows down and turns off I have to have a look where they are going. I was coming along a normally uneventful stretch of road when I had to stop whilst a Nissan Micra turned right into a badly paved driveway which I had never noticed. I gave the place a good old gawp before proceeding. PourQuoi? Why indeed.

The most fantastic news! Michele with one L has just phoned me and told me we've exchanged! our date for completion is 17th June. Eastbourne here we come!

Sat in the garden this morning and listened to the blackbirds, wrens, sparrows, wood pigeons on the wing and the ford fiestas and mondeos on the M40. It was a joy to behold as my mouth assimulated a bolus of toast.
I am a little disturbed by the Ladyfriend and her capacity to drink. We had a chikky tikky masala last night - which is not on for a school night in the first place. Wine accompanied the blow out, lager was sliding down the ladyfriend's neck faster than a bobsleigh and after watching the Darling Buds of May the ladyfriend suggested opening a bottle of red! I put a stop to it then and there. Trouble with the ladyfriend is she never knows when to put the plug in.
The Barefoot doctor would be spinning in his patchouli oil if he could see us last night. I must go and rub my kidneys for relief.

Today has been one of those odd days. Phone call from Michele with one L - our solicitor - giving us the amazing news that we might be moving in two weeks (If all goes well and the devil doesn't have his way) Fantastic, atlast at 32 I shall have a little piece of England which I can call home. So there I am on a high, get to work and find my photoshop has gone tits up because, whilst I have been away, the goblins have attacked my machine. I face a barrage of shite from all over the place about this, that and the other, but to be honest I just don't care. Pride in my work I have none, interest in my work zilch. To be honest it's all a bit too "local" at the local newspaper. I see Eastbourne as a light at the end of an extremely long tunnel which has been dragging on for two years. "Stay away from the light Carol Anne".......no chance, I'll be working on the seafront faster than you can say "Cod and chips twice".

Oooh, aint it 'ot? My lallies are on full view to the public atlast. Well, I have had a loverly time of it. I've been to Brighton - fabulous, been to see the Matrix......hmmm, been up to Camden - fun, if not a lil riffy, bought some tomato plants - saucy and been camping in the New Forest. I have as they say been around. Yesterday the Ladyfriend and I were paddling in the solent and have red patches to show for it. We did use protection but I forgot my feet and they don't arf smart.
The rollercoaster doesn't end there! Oh no, today we are off to Uxbridge, tonight I am going to whip up something Thai, tomorrow we are going to picnic in eastbourne and sunday we are off to see a swordsmith who needs a website. If my life was anymore jampacked I would look like the Robinson's gollywog. I am off now to apply some factor 15.

I am like a freshly poured glass of pomagne this morning, bubbly, cheeky and full of expectation as this is my last day at work. In just under nine hours I will let slip the chains of my toil and enter the warm glow of my holiday! I think waiting to be on holiday is far greater than actually being on holiday..........actually scrap that thought.
I hope this weather picks up. So much rain. I feel quite unsettled by it. I would rather not go camping in drizzle. I intended to paint beautiful sunsets and vistas, I won't be able to master watercolours in a downpour. My landscapes will come out like something an abused child might produce for a psychiatrist. My school of art leans towards the Bobby Sands and I can do with all the help I can get. I think I stand a better chance with charcoals.

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.