Move along please, there`s nothing to see here.

St. Swithin's day if thou dost rain, For forty days it will remain, St. Swithin's day if thou be fair , For forty days 'twill rain nae mair........oh heck. click here to read more. It looks like the boat building must begin sooner than anticipated. I must fell a few trees during my holiday and make an Arc, this time I shall take pairs of circus performers instead of animals. Juggling skills and death defying acrobatics must be preserved for generations to come. My boat will sail over the oceans with gasps of "oooh" and "aaah" as bearded ladies parade on deck as I steer a happy course to salvation.

Holiday coming over the brow, one more day at work and it's time to shed the skin of industrial regime and get back to freedom. My favourite part of such a break is the second week when self worth and confidence returns, a realisation that you could do anything you want to do and see a way of achieving such ideals. Sadly, the wind is knocked out of the sails as soon as you go back to clocking on and the monotony and mediocrity of the 9-5 returns.

Right children, listen carefully, you must do your bit for the environment by clicking this link and removing yourselves from junk mail forever more.

Well disaster has struck chez Ladyfriend and I. The washing machine has finally given up after two year's hard labour. We were greeted with a splurge on the kitchen floor yesterday and with no mangle to hand we were ringing out our delicates at 11pm. What a terrible blow to our holiday countdown. It's thrown a veritable spanner in the works. Thankfully my wonderful mother has kindly agreed to take in some coloureds at lunchtime. The bedding will just have to 'ride' for a little longer than planned. Merde.

The ladyfriend thinks the fault can be fixed but I know deep down that these consumables are made to break to keep the buggers in trade. Oh bring back the golden age of British manufacturing! It's telling to see old cars on the road - the mini and the morris minor - I doubt in ten years time we will see a punto at the pumps! No, I should imagine we will be found wandering the white goods aisle of Comet before the week is out.

The ladyfriend is out with Mizz Diane tonight. No doubt she will return home smelling of exotic food and hard liquor.

Starting to get excited about my holiday now. 4 days to go and then the ladyfriend and I are off to Eastbourne for two whole, perfectly formed weeks. No work, no packed lunches, no Sunday sinking feeling, no sapping computer exposure for two whole weeks. I am indeed looking forward to it. I don't care if the sun don't shine, I've got a living room to decorate and the most marvellous pub garden to sit in - for two whole weeks!

The ladyfriend has got a job on her hands however. As chief laundry woman (my talents lie in the kitchen) she has stopped me from wearing anything white until our sojourn begins. It's a challenge I can tell you. I am drawn to lighter shades.

Just foiled a kidnap attempt. Popped down to the garage for a little snack and the Evening Standard (I don't agree with the tawdry rag but one like's to keep abreast on current events) Anyway - I came out with my sandwhich and a strange man in a hunting jacket was talking to a taxi driver. They beckoned me over to help with directions to a school. Noticing the odd man had a rolled up newspaper (no doubt a hammer to bludgeon me) I stood well back and was not too helpful with directions. The taxi driver (his accomplice, drove off) The strange man walked with me. He made a comment on the mucky pub that has exotic dancers performing during the afternoon and that was it, I crossed the busy road leaving the odd fellow to get into his car. I escaped because I had my wits about me. I may now be trussed up like a Christmas turkey had I not been so careful!

An image that has haunted me all morning: on my merry way to work I caught a glimpse of a toddler banging at a bedroom window as the car headed on. It made me wonder, was the kiddy trying to attract attention. Was he a toddler in peril or was he just on a destructive path which will find him in an institution in later years?

Life is full of half glances which I don't know the end of. They are like films or programmes that you just watch five minutes of and don't reach the end. Bits of 'Bargain Hunt' that are on as I wait for the ladyfriend to get ready. How did the red team do? Was the toddler at the window in trouble? I will never know.

This weekend we are off to Eastbourne, with a good wind behind us (which is more than likely with this bizarre weather for July) there will be a salty sea breeze in my hair by 8pm. I don't half fancy a bacon butty on the seafront for breakfast.

Back on the subject of insects: at work, in our little room with tea and coffee making facilities, on the window ledge is the corpse of a dead wasp. I should imagine it speant its last days banging against the window trying to get out confused as to why it could not fly through. It made me think, what if we are all banging against glass in our lives oblivious to the fact that if we would only go in another direction we would be free? I shall stop now as I am beginning to sound like Jonathan Cainer.

Last night I had to place an urgent call to my wonderful mother. I had no idea how long to boil an egg to achieve a soft yolk fit for soldiers. She was out - no surprise there, dancing the night away in a village hall under tuition and, by the sounds of other members of her class, hopefully under medical supervision.

Unfortunately the ladyfriend's and my eggs were a little bit tough, I always seem to err on the side of caution (no bungee jumps for me). It made me realise my culinary skills need brushing up. I may be able to knock together a thai banquet with only a few hours notice but it means nothing if I can't make a light supper for a visiting invalid.

Pictures of glastonbury are trickling in by the way.

Back from a weekend camping in Avalon and the trench foot has just about cleared up. God blind my eye did it rain. It was a shame, I like the pitter patter of rain on canvas but when it's relentless it does lose its appeal. It was a lovely campsite. Bunnies and birds all over the place - quite magical. I recommend it highly. There were a few weirdy beardies there - it was Glastonbury afterall - click here if you're a happy camper.

Yesterday the ladyfriend and I were in Tesco hunter gathering the weekly shop and I was startled to find a bee in a punnet of cherry tomatoes. I turned the package carefully as one false move and the little insect would have been crushed. Its legs were moving, all beit slowly as he had obviously been in the fridge for a long time. I checked that they were English Tomatoes as I didn't want to let loose a killer bee from Africa which would go on to mate with a Buckinghamshire bee and take out half the population of High Wycombe (would that be a bad thing?)

I then ripped open the packaging and the ladyfriend took the little fella out into the warm sunshine. It caused quite a small crowd of shoppers as we all discussed the bee's incarceration. Those gangs of chinese workers should be a bit more carefull even if they are paid tuppence a day, we can't have them destroying our habitat. It might wash in the paddy fields but that sort of behaviour won't get them far in the market gardening areas of Britain.

Back from a weekend camping in Avalon and the trench foot has just about cleared up. God blind my eye did it rain. It was a shame, I like the pitter patter of rain on canvas but when it's relentless it does lose its appeal. It was a lovely campsite. Bunnies and birds all over the place - quite magical. I recommend it highly. There were a few weirdy beardies there - it was Glastonbury afterall - click here if you're a happy camper.

Yesterday the ladyfriend and I were in Tesco hunter gathering the weekly shop and I was startled to find a bee in a punnet of cherry tomatoes. I turned the package carefully as one false move and the little insect would have been crushed. Its legs were moving, all beit slowly as he had obviously been in the fridge for a long time. I checked that they were English Tomatoes as I didn't want to let loose a killer bee from Africa which would go on to mate with a Buckinghamshire bee and take out half the population of High Wycombe (would that be a bad thing?)

I then ripped open the packaging and the ladyfriend took the little fella out into the warm sunshine. It caused quite a small crowd of shoppers as we all discussed the bee's incarceration. Those gangs of chinese workers should be a bit more carefull even if they are paid tuppence a day, we can't have them destroying our habitat. It might wash in the paddy fields but that sort of behaviour won't get them far in the market gardening areas of Britain.

Off camping for the weekend tomorrow, I can't deny I'm a bit worried as the outlook for the weather is rather bleak. Temperatures will plummet at night. I'm sure I will have to end up sleeping in the shower blocks to find some form of comfort. How unreliable an English summer is. Nevermind, deposits are paid so Somerset bound 'R' us.

I am looking forward to waking up to birdsong, a most stimulating and heartwarming sound. A song centuries old, oh how I would love to know the words! I've been after a cd so that I can identify each bird but I have yet to find one. I shall have to pilfer one of those RSPB gift shops and pick up a protracting pencil emblazoned with my name at the same time. It's no lie to say I am becoming a bit of a twitcher.

Last night I found myself listening to country music and thought, "this is a nice toe-tapper." I switched off the radio in haste. I can't get into Country Music, the ladyfriend has only just come round to me liking folk music. She has the staying power of Peter Sutcliffe's wife but if I start going Nashville I'll be shown the proverbial door.

Today, during my lunch break, I am popping to my Wonderful Mother's to let the dog out to go about its natural business. She won't be there because the pair of them (Super Step Dad) have gone off galivanting along the Royal River Thames for the day and the better part of early evening. They're going to 'have it large' on a boat to Windsor and back.

I wouldn't mind this so much if it was one of those flash in the pan occasions but it is getting to become a bit of a habit.Instead of a couple of shy and retiring retired people they go out more than I do and have a social circle wider than the M25. Long gone is the image of pensioners knitting tea cosies and sucking on a Worthers Originals. No, now it's Salsa dancing and Margharitas! Blimming Golden Girls........It will be different for me of course, the ladyfriend and I will be working till we are seventy, probably on some God forsaken production line inserting microchips into embryos......

Blimey, rough night. Woke at 5am and couldn't return to my slumber. I tossed and turned and eventually met Morpheus as the dawn chorus kicked in. I now feel rather ratty. It's the pits really as this week I intended to rejuvinate in readiness for the weekend. The ladyfriend and I are off camping in Glastonbury with Mr C and Mr D. I wanted to be fresh as a daisy for the late nights and early mornings that will no doubt arise. Last night I lay with two slices of cucumber on my eyes whilst the ladyfriend spoke to Mizz Diane. It seemed to do the trick as the puffiness seemed to subside. Now I look like Bette Davis being interviewed by Terry Wogan again.

I was quite proud of the ladyfriend as she was yabbering away to Mizz Diane about the toxins in food, I have indoctrinated her well. Tonight there is a programme called "You are what you eat" which is worth setting the video for. I don't really like the woman who presents it - Dr Gillian McKeith - there is something of the night about her. My favourite larder lady is Jane Clarke, much more tastefully presented.

Made a gruesome discovery on the way home from the crumbles Asda on Friday afternoon. We were driving along the seafront quite serenely, discussing the possibilities of what the ladyfriend and I may get up to during the weekend, when, out of the corner of my eye I saw the fluttering of police incident tape. I turned to see people standing around a car in which a man was slumped up against the passenger window, mouth wide open, ashen faced! I had seen a corpse! The image stayed with me, marring my weekend, if the truth be told. What a way to end up, the last few seconds of life spent within earshot of the amusement arcade and mini golf. A spectacle for people returning from a hard day at the office, a Wallace Arnold coach full of pensioners and the unsuspecting dog walker.

This morning I had a quick look at the lawn to check on the bird table. Pecking around the base of my feeder was a new arrival to my regular menagerie - a racing pigeon! There he was ring around his leg tucking into my mixed seed. I marvelled at his colouring and then began to wonder where he had come from. Was this a quick stop before heading off to the mountainous regions of Northern Italy or had he escaped from a few streets away? No doubt word has got round the avarian grapevine that there is good food to be had a Lola's. Yesterday I counted 12 sparrows, 3 pigeons, 2 blackbirds, 3 ducks, 7 ring turtled doves but no partridge - yet.

Tonight I'm taking the ladyfriend by the hand through the streets of London to see Lypsinka, it's the closest I will get to see Morrissey as he will be presenting him. I am worried that he may have turned from a svelte icon of my youth into Ted Bovis, the rotund comic from hi-de-hi.

Today is the last day at work for Lorraine Twitchen, she has got a ticket to ride and she don't care. She's off to work for London Transport (an institution full of militants.) I wonder if the eminent Victorians could imagine their creation and feat of engineering would be such a contentious issue today. The first tunnel was in 1863 can you imagine anything built today that will last till 2063 let alone over a century? I can't see the millennium bridge lasting twenty years, especially after it's dodgy beginnings. I fear we lost our empire and our great minds when the pennies went on Victoria's eyes. Actually, this is a fascinating website click here It's quite informative.

Thank god for the spotty kid with downs. One has to ask though, what's up with Owen? Are Ladbrokes taking bets, is it drink, drugs or insanity? Off with Owen or the pitch will look like a butcher's block as we are slashed to ribbons by Portugal on Thursday.

Thank God the ladyfriend and I will be watching Lypsinka at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on Thursday night. We shall be secluded from the rollercoaster of excitement in the outside world. Last night was bad enough, I went out to dead head the petunias at one point.

So happy, this morning I caught the end of News Round where they showed film of a Mexican attempt to cook the worlds biggest Taco. I love record attempts with food. Huge pancakes, massive pumpkins, wonderful. All these mexicans were grinning with pride as they laid out their savoury snack for the world's media. Good old News Round.

With the warmth of the season caressing the land, the celebration of the Summer Solstice brings forth a truly joyous recognition that we can now enjoy the fruits of our labors in the past season - indeed! Merry summer solstice to you all. Let's hope our boys can stick it in the back of the net tonight. I felt for the spaniards last night, oh how I too have looked on in bewilderment as my England have thrown it all away. Off with Owen and on with Luther Blisset, s'wat I say.

Talking of strapping sporty people, the Eastbourne tennis championships were a hit with the ladyfriend and I on Friday. We got to see Martina thwack a few balls. I didn't realise she was a grunter. Perhaps the tv microphone doesn't pick up her "hurruph" when she hits the ball, like a pipistrelle bat she is out of range. She's certainly slowed down a tad. Her fan base were there, my word. Eastbourne was wall to wall sensible shoes this weekend it was like mardi gras.

I've already ruined someone's day. Last night I turned on my mobile phone to find that I had received a voice mail 'oh goody' I thought. Anyway, I listened to it and it was no one I knew "Hello Marge, I'll see you outside New Look at 9.30, see you tomorrow, bye"

This morning at 9.15 my mobile rang. "Oh sorry, I've got the wrong number." Then it rang again "Oh, Marge?"
"No" says I "I'm awfully sorry" I told her that she had called me last night and what a terrible mistake had been made. She sounded quite panic striken.

Now I can't help but worry about Marge and this poor woman outside New Look. I don't know where she was or what town she was in, but somewhere Marge was unaware that she had to be outside New Look at 9.30, I wonder if she was reading the paper waiting for Trisha to come on. Perhaps she was fast asleep dreaming of riding a pony in her youth.

A day ruined by a slippery digit.

Where has the morning slipped? It's run like pennies down the leg of my life, out of a holey pocket onto the ground of history.

I must say that I am enjoying the football but through complete ignorance the ladyfriend and I seem to have an engagement for nearly all of the England games. On Sunday we were in the Royal Festival Hall watching Elaine Paige belting out "Don't cry for me Argentina." We shall be able to see tomorrow's second half as I am at work and next Thursday we will be back on the South Bank to see Lypsinka. What bad planning, worse than 1960's architects with sackfuls of concrete and a town centre to fill.

Part of me is glad as watching England is so painful. This way we are unable to watch Heskey lumber around or Michael Owen goal hang, waiting for someone to kick the ball to his way.

Oi Guy!

This is for Guy ::::::: http://www.lifeforlola.co.uk/atracktive.gif

I like Tuesdays, today I listen to Celtic Heartbeat from Radio Wales It's great this broadband business. It has opened up my world I can tell you. It's also made me feel a little bit better at the 'money for menaces' licence fee I have to stump up to keep EastEnders in badly dressed ex-comedian/straight actors.

Someone's career I do fear for is that poor man who does those adverts for Flash, the one that used to be in Brush Strokes. There's a man walking the green mile of his acting career. Perhaps EastEnders should throw him a lifeline and bring him in as some over acting cheeky window cleaner - he's got experience.

Enough about EastEnders, I rarely watch the programme myself, thank goodness. I do have a connection at the BBC - Old Vic, if you excuse the pun - she's entered the Art Festival and you can see her work by clicking here

Why Heskey?

All I can say is good luck Birmingham City - you're going to need it!

These Thursdays are coming around quickly. The days are racing, the video tape of my life is on fast forward. I suppose it's because I am having fun. I am quite chirpy of late although today I have had the bowels of satan. I think I have been spiked by the ladyfriend's mother. I have resorted to Imodium which I must say does seem to have done the trick. Touch wood.........and the lavvy door handle.

This weekend I have to tackle the meadow, it has grown a bit too well. The different variety of grasses have grown taller than myself and it is rather resembling Steptoe's yard and not the country landscape I had hoped. I am cock-a-hoop at the amazing flowers - some would say weeds - that have flourished in the last few weeks. There are these amazing white star like flowers, they are quite possibly some kind of rare orchid. I do hope so, the back garden may become an area of outstanding natural beauty and I can charge ramblers a penny or two. I will also be able to sell cakes to the retarded who will visit my accompanying tearoom in great numbers.

A late entry today, I have been rushed off my size sevens which are today squeezed into a pair of sandals - they will fit, they will fit! I've not been busy but somehow work has taken over my personal life - just for this morning.

I am feeling a little tired today, I was up reading the Sunday papers last night which just shows you how behind I am with things. It was a recount of Operation Overlord, I was gripped and couldn't put it down. I fancy going off to the Imperial War Museum on Sunday such is my interest in the subject. Perhaps I can convince the ladyfriend to come along with me, we are in town on Sunday as we have tickets to see some old bird belting out show tunes (Elaine Paige) . I can't believe how quickly it has come round. I'm quite excited about it, I hope she drags old Barbara Dickson on in the encore.

Pictured is another in the eagerly awaited cut out and keep series of the ladyfriend's friends.

Fascinating to watch the transit of venus for one day only, once in a lifetime although anyone, like me, who has the odd eye floater or two will live with a little black dot spinning all over the place all year.

It is a marvellous site, I had the telescope out this morning trying to direct the sun onto a piece of card. I didn't have much success, I burnt a hole in the carpet and took out a couple of ants so have settled for watching it via the BBC's website.

Last year we had firey Mars (the Roman God of War) the closest it has ever been to earth which I reckon caused the war in Iraq and a burning hot summer. Hopefully with this stuff with Venus (goddess of love and beauty) we shall all have peace in our time and a lovely complexion.

I sat on the sofa yesterday watching the old soldiers in Normandy, I was fine until the bottom lip quivered on one of the old boys and that was it for Lola - oh how I wept. Old soldiers and Elgar, they do it to me everytime.

I'm absolutely horrified at Channel 4, what ignorance and downright ingratitude to schedule a programme called Pop Beach a youth music programme whilst over in France they were commemorating the carnage on Normandy beaches and acts of moral fibre the kids of today don't know how to spell let alone have. Heads should roll.

By the way, today's photo is part one in a series of the Ladyfriend's friends.........who'll be next?

Hurrah, the ducks are back! They arrived on Tuesday night and now chill out in our back garden. They are unusually late, we thought we weren't going to get them this year. Maybe it's down to the mobile phone masts putting them out of sink, I don't know, but they are back!

Coming to work this morning a girl sat up in the passenger seat of a parked car, she looked a bit confused as though just woken. She was dressed like a chorus girl from a German nightclub in the 1930's. I think she was one, tricked into a time machine by a mad nuclear scientist who promised her the world and now here she is, trapped in the future with nothing but a silky basque to protect her from the elements. Good job it's a nice day.

Received an email today urging me to boycott ESSO and BP (who are apparently the same) in a bid to drive prices down. I'm all for a bit of consumer pressure and will gladly join in - even though no one helped when they changed the recipe for Heinz salad cream back in the 80's, where were my comrades then?

Watched the football last night after the end of Cutting It and I have decided I no longer like David Beckham. He really is chav scum. I read an excerpt from an interview of him in Vanity Fair this morning which sealed his fate. He said "me and Victoria" twice which deserves a slap round the chops for saying it once let alone a second time. The fact that his wife now intends to model her children sends me cold. I think it's about time to start the Beckham backlash, their brash materialism hasn't done this country any good. Consumer debt is now the highest it has ever been, due in part ,I am sure, by the Beckham's indulgences. The irony is, they don't actually stick their hands in their pockets. It's well documented how clothes, cars and gems are sent to them. Whilst those desperate to emulate them rack up debt after debt, the Beckham's remain minted.

Had a cracking weekend, exceptional weather down on the sunshine coast of Eastbourne. I did a bit of stripping down there - finally took down the border in the living room. Why the woman put it up in the first place is beyond me. Fortunately it came off without a hitch. After the destruction I caused when I took off a few kitchen tiles last year I was more than apprehensive.

On saturday the ladyfriend and I sat outside Eastbourne Town Hall to see Paul Ross get married. We had been given a tip-off about it by my smashing mother. We weren't interested in seeing Paul Ross but the possible interesting c-list celebrity congregation. We got there at the wrong time though, a big old limo turned up complete with security guard to pick up some old timers so we didn't get a sniff of Linda Bellingham or such like. We were harrassed by a mad woman from the eastern bloc as happy couple after happy couple came out (it was like a conveyor belt) She went on and on how modern marriages don't last and something about coffee in caravans - she was a woman worn down by life that's for sure.

I did take my camera out a lot this weekend. This is a medieaval fayre in Battle also I have added Eastbourne Erections - a celebration of Eastbourne Architecture to the art festival aswell as Victorian lady and some of you may not have seen Boogie Wonderland by Rachel and Jemma.

Enroute to work this morning a strange fear gripped me. What's to stop me suddenly driving on to the other side of the road in to the path of oncomming traffic? When I decided it was because I wanted to live I then thought. what's to stop them from driving into me?

I have probably revealed too much in admitting that I have had these thoughts (I have had them before) I'm sure it reveals more about my psychological make-up than perhaps it is decent to. But I am perplexed as to why I have them. Thank goodness there is a safety device in my brain that shuts down the destructive synapses unlike the poor f**kers with tourette's syndrome.

Anyway, moving along.......the ladyfriend offered to enter a replacement for Tracy Emin's tent to Mr Saatchi. But I replied, where's the old bugger going to put a marquee?

Looks like Madonna has started her Whatever Happened to Baby Jane tour. My goodness, some people never know when to put the plug in. Terrifying. I was never in favour of her lude behaviour when she was a nubile young slapper but to cavort around stage done up like Bette Davis is taking the gay thing too far.

Shame about all that Satchi shit going up in smoke. Perhaps he woke one morning and was hit by a sudden moment of clarity and realised he had amassed little more than a lock up full of car boot sale clutter.
I wonder who lit the match? Whoever it was should get the Turner Prize.

By the way, the latest addition to Lola's Art Festival is in - check out this short film The Car Wash

"Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu! Groweth sed, and bloweth med, And springth the wude nu."

I'm mad on birds. I was thinking at the weekend as I watched the seagulls swoop and the blackbirds sing louder than car alarms we don't rule this planet, birds do. Such freedom has a bird, one minute crapping on a car the next soaring into the skies to perch on the Gherkin or Tower Bridge. As I sit at work to earn a crust a blue tit can fly down to Cornwall and dine at Rick Stein's gaff or chill out in Reading feasting on the remains of a social worker's toast. I'm sure I'm being simplistic but what a life.

On returning from work last night as I waited for rice to boil I stepped into the garden where six fat pigeons jumped up and down in my meadow (flowers not likely this year, they've eaten the seeds) A robin held a worm in its beak and darted in and out of a nest (made in next doors redundant air brick) and the twittering from the bushes and all around hath charms to soothe the savage breast.

I read a few weeks back in one of those columns in the weekend supplements where a celebrity is asked questions and they come up with witty replies - if they are not Jim Davidson - it was Willy Russell and he was asked something along the lines of what would you do if you had some spare time? and he replied "fill up my bird feeders" and I knew exactly what he meant.

Had a rather pleasant weekend. Stayed in for the better part of Friday waiting for a man to change the water meter (he turned out to be a man who changes electric meters - I don't know how I got that wrong.) Turned out to be a bit of a diabetic minutes from an attack, but that's another story.

Took a ride out to the Bexhill Aldi where I bought a fantastic pair of shorts (SVF 30) - just the thing for hiking trips in the Sahara. The ladyfriend bought a saddle for her bike.

On Saturday we spent the day driving around the gorgeous stretch between Lewes and Eastbourne. We went to Middle Farm - click here for pictures - and had a look at all the animals, browsed the farm shop and had a bit to eat. I can not recommend Middle Farm highly enough it is that fantastic. visit their website - you must go if you are in that neck of the woods.

We also drove about and fell on, quite by chance, Berwick Church which has links with the Bloomsbury set (we are in Charleston country afterall. I took many a snap of the Bell's daubings and have added it to my Art's festival - enjoy!

Lola's Art Festival launched: click the pic

You have iPod

This month we have an artist in residence. Clive emailed me some lovely photos which I have added to my gallery. Click here for Clive's Exposure. They are very nice. Perhaps I should be like Morrissey and curate a festival on Life For Lola. Why not indeed. Ok then, if anyone would like to send me something of an artistic nature in any medium I shall put it into my festival. Normal address: lola@lifeforlola.co.uk

It would be nice to have a few stories, poetry, paintings or mucky verse. What fun.

By the way, let's get behind Millwall and hope that nasty bully Alex Ferguson expires before the end of the game.

Clive and I were in conversation the other day and the subject turned to pedestrian crossings. You've got your pelican, puffin, zebra and toucan. We were deeply puzzled as to why the highway code people decided to call crossings after creatures which, let's face it, are hardly indigenous to this country. (Puffin numbers in decline and restricted to the Shetlands.) It was probably one of those lunatic ideas of "Hands across the nations or a ploy to fill the UK's zoo's with curious children and quizzical adults with disposable income.

Anyway, we were thinking do you suppose there are crossings in deepest, darkest Africa called Hedgehog, Badger, Black Bird and Duck? I doubt it.

Did I tell you about the folk music? Well, I love it. On Friday I borrowed several cds from the library and copied them immediately. Steeleye Span and Pentangle. I love old Maddy Prior anyway so that wasn't anything new but that Pentangle gang are something else. I must admit to skipping a few tracks but I love "Light Flight". I also intend to get the Brass Monkey album.

I need a folk enthusiast to take me under their wing and guide me through the folk scene. Mike Harding is great but I only have an hour a week with him on Radio 2. Folk music is the new rock 'n' roll, just you see. Remember Brit Pop? that bubble has long burst, now it's trendy to be into folk.

Personally I think it's great as it reclaims Britain's identity which has been sacrificed on the altar of the European parliament. Big up to Kilroy by the way. I was saying to the ladyfriend the other day that there was little joy in visiting other countries. The novelty is gone. What's the point of going into a supermarket in Athens and seeing the same brands as the stock in the corner Happy Shopper? Once, tucking into tapas in Spain was a one off treat for the well travelled and adventurous. I'm sure this summer a group of Northern telesales girls will jet off to Greece, sit in a bar and eat mousakka and say "it's allright but it aint as nice as the Sainsbury's 'Be good to yourself' mousakka".

By the way, join me and stick your fingers up at Starbucks, we are English we don't do coffee - DRINK TEA. I know it's fiddly with the bag and the milk but it's what this country was built on. In times of crisis you don't want a Latte you want a Rosie!

THIS SITE IS UNDERGOING A LITTLE BIT OF DISRUPTION - PLEASE BE A LIL BIT PATIENT

What a marvellous weekend. I was sat by the sea on Saturday watching the tide lap against the shingle, "this is the life" I thought as I read the Guardian's supplement on chemicals in food and realised that what I have consumed has probably shortened it.

In the evening we watched the Eurovision Song Contest which has convinced me - as if I needed to be - that the Euro gets the "NO" vote from Lola. As soon as we get out of Europe the better. Damn them all to their kilo's and Balkan block voting. It's a bloody farce. If anyone thinks the UK will get a fair crack at any of the whips going need only see a recording of the Eurovision Song Contest. It's time to cut the chord and get out before we are made to grow hairy armpits.

On a lighter note, the ladyfriend and I were out to lunch yesterday with Super Step Dad as it was his birthday. I must say thanks for a lovely bit of grub and fine company.

In the evening we stepped out with Clive and Drew and went to see the Carnival Band at west wycombe church. They were fabulous and played a number of instruments. The audience were a bit peculiar (I count ourselves amongst them) but I have realised a taste in the unordinary tends to go hand in hand with a poor taste in clothing. One woman had a pair of tye-died dungarees..........fashioned I expect by her own hand. I can just see her emptying the packets of die into a a bucket, tongue stuck out in intense concentration.

The ladyfriend is a bit chesty this morning, I think this is down to the M25 which was dusty and rather fumey last night. We raced down to Brighton in good time and managed to pack a pizza each away before the concert began.

As Brighton is the gay capital of the northern hemisphere the audience was a mixture of short haired, rough round the edges girls, camp charlies and the odd beardy weirdy. It was an absolutely fabulous concert though, as expected. I felt for one moment that I had slipped into the gap betwixt heaven and earth such is the woman's talent.

A dull life indeed without Eddi Reader. I'm sure if I didn't have Eddi reader in my life then drugs, booze and religion would have taken hold. Pity then I say the poor folk who have never exposed themselves to her.

This morning I was taken with a huge puzzler which I should really leave to a dome headed scientist, nature or nurture etc. The ladyfriend made toast for our breakfast, which anyone can tell you is not the best of fuel for two growing gals at the best of times, but it is Thursday (our early start at work) and it's easy. I digress. Ladyfriend had burnt her slice so dropped it on the plate in revulsion. I offered to swap for a bit I had started but she turned it down.

I asked "Is it because alien chops have been round it?" she said "no" and that she had gone off the idea of breakfast. It got us discussing how food from someone else's plate always tastes different and we wondered why.

If someone who is not your family or your 'special friend' swigs from a bottle and passes it to you to drink from do you quickly wipe it, hold it in the air for a bit (bacteria die after 7 seconds), sip from it but think "yuk" or do you guzzle from it without care?

I tend to sip but think "yuk", I think out of politeness.

When someone - again, out of the family circle, has eaten food and given it to you the same thing happens, yet in a bistro when a scabby chef has done God only knows what to your lasagne you eat it merrily. Or, when someone has secretly swigged from a milk bottle in the staff kitchen your tea doesn't taste different.

It is therefore the knowing that effects the taste of food not the fact that it has happened.

Anyway, tonight we set off to Brighton to see the wonderful Eddi Reader perform to a sell out audience. I am leaving work early to get on the M25 in good time, here's hoping our passage is clear.

Feel a bit dizzy this morning and slow to respond. The smell of ciggies floating in through the office back door is making me rather nauseous. I know I haven't got one in the oven so I've probably been hypnotised by a cloaked, mustachioed gentleman whilst sleeping - me, not him. Perhaps listening to folk music yesterday has done for me. I was on the BBC Radio 2 website and couldn't resist listening to the Mike Harding show. Hey nonny nonny indeed. There may have been subsersive lyrics which have soaked into my mind convincing me that I am onboard a fishing boat bound for Hull. Who can tell with lyrics like "There lived a lady by the North Sea shore
(Lay the bent to the bonnie broom) Two daughters were the babes she bore (Fa la la la la la la la la la)".......indeed.

Came to work this morning and realised that I looked a little bit like Linndie England, the nasty american soldier girl who has proved such an embarrassment to the military but who was only following orders. Today I am wearing a green t-shirt, my bag is green - styled like a military shoulder bag and my light brown jacket is just the very thing for a safari. I look like I have come straight from maneuvers not the safety of the home counties.

I assumed Lynndie's now famous position and there was a striking resemblance. I wonder if, like dodgey David jason look-a-likeies, I could earn some pin money opening freezer shops in the north of England.

How do you like the meadow cam? Lola has been busy. This weekend I have been getting back to nature and have begun work in creating a haven for wildlife in the back garden. Born out of not wanting to spend hours cutting the grass and genuine interest in the dissapearing natural habitat, I have taken steps to remedy both.

Yesterday we planted a couple of apple trees and I scattered wild flower seeds with wild gay abandon, whistling all things bright and beautiful as I went. Hopefully in a few months it will be a picture. You'll be able to see for yourselves ofcourse on the meadow cam. If the flowers don't come off, which they may not, as I write this there are around forty sunflower seeds germinating in the coal bunker as back up.

I am looking forward to long leisurely picnics in the long grass with nothing but a bottle of champagne and the occasional python slithering up my peddle pushers.

It was lovely sitting in the bath smelling all earthy with and inch of soil under each finger nail. It reminded me of my youth - long gone now of course - with the smell of the outdoors coming off me in a steaming bath.

On Tuesday I caught a flash of the sun as it hit the buckle on a woman's handbag. It made me think, what were the odds of that ray of sunshine travelling millions of miles, taking millions of hours, that woman deciding to leave the washing up to go for a walk and for me to be waiting at traffic lights to witness the light bouncing off the metal on an ordinary looking handbag. It doesn't bare thinking about.

The weather this weekend looks rather unsettled. I am pencilled in for lawn duties. Part of me hopes for a downpour so I don't have to put myself through it but the other half (nice Lola) wants sunshine so she can cut the grass and go for a gentle 5 mile undulating walk in the woods to take pictures of bluebells. Pain and pleasure, good for the soul and the garden.

Back behind my desk at work munching apples and savoury snacks, my little mini break now just disjointed memories. Just been looking to see if there were any Morrissey tickets on the internet, what a farce that turned out to be. Up at the crack on Friday and I was dialling the number before 9am when the box office opened. Couldn't get through after more than an hour on redial and the tickets sold out. The whole thing was a monumental cock up from start to finish, I don't know why Morrissey agreed to get involved with the corporate scum. The fans come off the worse as now it's a scrabble on ebay and dealings with the evil touts. Paint a vulgar picture indeed mr morrissey.

As a "there, there" the Ladyfriend let me book tickets for Lypsinka. Now there's a fag who knows how to put on a show.

Having an exceptional mini break down here in Eastbourne. Yesterday was an absolute scorcher and if you click here you can see some of my lovely snaps of the day. The ladyfriend and I got rather tight and went under the table about 8.30pm, missing the Mayor's firework display.

We have not long been back from Hastings where we went to the Jack in the Green festival which was blinding. People had gone to so much effort with their costumes, next year I am going to dress as a wood nimph. Click here for the pictures. Ofcourse the heavens opened just before the end and we got completely drenched, we had to run before the jack got de-leaved. I was so wet infact that the ladyfriend made me go to Poundstretchers and buy the cheapest, warmest thing we could find. I was all for a nice travel rug but in the end I ended up with a four quid jumper which is surprisingly good value if not the most fashionable.

Having an absoulutely glorious sunday, the weather here in Eastbourne is scorching. The ladyfriend and I are a few sheets to the wind on account of all the rattlesnakes.

We went on a bit of a pub crawl then ate a lovely tea. We pushed the boat out in Cafe Belge in celebration of Ann our friend from work who sadly died on Friday. God knows how we managed to get back to the flat, one foot in front of the other I kept telling the Ladyfriend.

Oh University life! I shall get myself one of those big scarves,a duffle coat and a bike, protest against whale watching and top up cards......well for ten weeks anyway until my evening course is over.

Can't wait for today's work to be over, I have so much ahead. Tomorrow I am up with the larks ready to get to the phone for Morrissey tickets.They will sell like hot cakes, I hope I am not setting myself up for dissapointment. I don't want to be sitting on the stairs in my dressing gown come tea time.

It's bed early for the ladyfriend and I on Friday night as we have to be up at 5.30 to hightail it over to Berkhamsted for May day madrigals. Then it's M25 all the way to Eastbourne where our days are fully booked. Boat show, French Market, Mayor's Fireworks and Hastings Jack-in-the-green. I must tell the ladyfriend to stock up with ginseng I'm flagging already and we haven't passed a little chef yet!

I must sharpen my pencil, I am off tonight to a great institution of learning to absorb some knowledge. I do like attending the odd course or two, it's nice to keep one's hand in as it were.

This weather is a bit of a worry, especially after watching the trailer for The Day After Tomorrow.It's one of those disaster movies but about global warming. I want to see it and I'm sure it will make big money at the box office. I do wonder though, as the film will rake in millions it might be nice if they donate a huge wack to Friends of the Earth or the like. That would be nice, but unlikely.

It is rather scary. The ladyfriend were quite alarmed after watching a programme about the gulf stream stopping and the ice age coming to Norfolk. We are as they say "all doomed" but it might be nice, like an etch a sketch, for the world to start all over again and penguins to inherit the earth.

Feel a little bleary eyed this morning. I sensed the Ladyfriend's lack of enthusiasm to watch Time Team last night so we watched the film where the first rule about it is you don't talk about it. I consumed the remnants of two day old red wine (the bottle from the Indian on Saturday) so the milk thistle has got its work cut out for it today.

Forgot to mention Clare Teal. We went to see her on Friday and my goodness she's got a good set of lungs on her. Didn't see anyone famous but jazz people always meld into the background, I think it's because they go to dark, smokey jazz clubs and therefore take on a grey, lifeless complexion, it's that or they end up looking like George Melly. I did see a lady who looked like Dame Cleo but I think these days many woman in their autumnal years tend to embrace the spiral perm.........I know I will.

Well, I've had an absolutely marvellous weekend, an absolute tonic. Friday the ladyfriend and I went up to Hoo Hing for a little light shopping. I picked up a few whiffy packets of this and that and toyed with a huge bottle of chilli sauce which would have made your eyes water. As we were in the area we went along to IKEA filled a yellow bag with napkins, a plant pot and a handy stool which will enable me to open and close the window blind in the kitchen at Eastbourne. It's a self assembly job which will fit discreetly behind the bin and will save me clambering over worktops in my night attire.

Saturday the ladyfriend and I took leave of our sofa slut senses and walked from Bourne End into Marlow and back. For those that don't know the route, it is quite a walk but an invigorating one as it passes along the Thames. The weather was fantastic and it was an absolute delight. We lunched in Marlow and to our surprise caught site of Michelle & Sarah (fellow spinsters of this parish). We were not surprised to see them guzzling alcohol, they always know how to pack a good picnic.

We cracked on with our walk back to Bourne End and as we entered Bourne End Marina we met Diane and her husband Mick, making their boat ship shape for the summer. Then, we met pregnant Fiona and her husband Nick. THEN we saw the successful film director Steven Spielberg strolling along the towpath. Amazing.

Saturday night was quite a delight as it was out with my favourite pair of "double d's" Dawn and Dave. They picked us up in their Roller, I've never felt such luxury since I slipped on a new pair of panties from M&S. Such comfort! I felt like Elkie Brooks enroute to a sell out concert at the Reading Hexagon. Alas I was not clutching a bottle of champagne but half a bottle of Shiraz from an Indian Restaurant but the thought was there.

Such visions I had when my head hit the pillow, I don't know if it was the food colouring but I was certainly taken to a happy place. I saw mountains and twinkly stars, it was quite magical.

Sunday, hanging as usual after a night out with the Double D's. All we could muster was a country drive and a little light gardening. The week ahead is fit to bursting: an evening course, may day madrigals and the Lord Mayor - I can't wait!

Do Sit Down, Shocks Are So Much Better Absorbed With The Knees Bent

I'm so excited, this morning the grass was sodden with dew and there were pretty cobwebs on my bird table. Summer will soon be here, May day is soon, I shall be dancing round the village pole, slovak and cypriot. I've tried to convince the ladyfriend to come with me to Oxford at 3am and stand on Magdalen Bridge next Saturday, but she's having none of it. read all about it here. However, she has conceded with one of my fancies and on Bank Holiday Monday we are off to Hastings for what looks like to be a right old pagan knees up - the jack in the green.........have you seen Rowan Morrisson?

It's a very damp yet sticky day at the office. The clouds are broody and a walrus of a woman has just walked in through the door (I will say no names but she doesn't own a mirror)

Anyway, I digress, oooh, I've quite a week of adventure and occassion. On Friday I'm off up to the Chinese Supermarket, IKEA and then in the evening I am off to see Clare Teal - the saviour of popular Jazz music. If I see anymore of that grinning, mono browed, down syndrome Jamie Callum I shall lose my jazz marbles.

It's going to be a good gig, it's in an intimate venu (Wycombe Town Hall) and the word on the street is there will be several "celebrities" in the house. Oh yes, local ones.........that means Michael Parkinson and Timmy Mallet.

I see Victoria has pulled all of David Beckham's lovely long locks out for the summer. I must say, and all my colleagues agree with me, it does suit him better. However, I don't think a trip to the barber shop and a quick transformation will have the same effect on their marriage. I should imagine, psychologically, they think a quick whirr of the clippers will shed them of the tawdry tales but it wont. I give it six months.

Mind you, I know I keep banging on about Morrissey at the moment but I wonder if this is old Posh's way of trying to ride the wave of Morrissey's popularity. Why, if I turn to the lyrics of "Hairdresser on Fire" I can't help but be stunned by this verse...."Oh, here is London "Home of the brash, outrageous and free", You are repressed, But you're remarkably dressed, Is it Real ?" click here if you don't believe me

Now, has Posh misinterpreted the lyrics, thought "is it real" meant Real Madrid and told David "You're remarkably dressed , you better get ya 'air cut so we can get tickets to Meltdown"

I've got a feeling in my water (curable, I'm sure with a drop of cranberry juice) that it's going to be a nice week. I'm sure, globally speaking, a handful of soldiers will die in Iraq, a lady in Wiltshire will give birth to conjoined twins and the body of a civil servant - missing since the August bank holiday in 1957 - will be discovered in a lock up in East Grinstead.

But for me it will be a good one, sprinkled here and there with shock and surprise. Old Jonathan Cainer reckons I am going to be treated to a rare gift from the sky - I don't know what that's about but I narrowly missed seagull shit yesterday.

Pay day - oh tres jolie! I will not starve. I can have the pate de fois gras afterall. Good heavens, I was sailing rather close to the wind I can tell you. I have been a bit care free at the checkout this month, acting like a libertine and not a frugal spinster of this parish. It does a girl good to give in to temptation every now and again....

By the way, I forgot to mention, I saw Wendy Craig last week. She stopped to let me pass on a busy country road, I must say, she did look rather down trodden and the Dulcie Gray hair do will have to go.......perhaps, on reflection it was Dulcie Gray.

My insides are not me own. I put it down to "pierce the film lid and place on a baking tray." I'll never eat prosessed food again. Ad nauseum.

This weekend I intend to atone for my gastric sin by feeding on bread and Perrier. Infact, I must catch up with myself, I shall have a candle-lit bath (never left un-attended) I shall add salt and rub a ripe avocado over my boat. I may even dig out an old Enya cd and scatter rose petals.

The Ladyfriend and I intend to romp over Beachy Head this weekend so if anyone fancies a flash mob we will convene by the Brewers Fayre at 2pm.

I have decided I adore Easter. What a marvellous holiday. Four days of relaxation. It's as good as Christmas, infact I think it is better as it comes without the pressures of visiting unusual relatives.

After seeing the Mel Gibson film I toyed with the idea of going to church on Sunday. Unfortunately the stirring sound of the bells which drifted on the morning air were not enough to stir me from my bed. Perhaps next year.

Got a lot done this weekend, the house is completely spring cleaned, the lawns are cut to ribbons and the outer rim of my wardrobe has been consigned to a black plastic bag (will tank tops ever be in fashion again?)

I also tried out two new recipes which were rather good. The pork was sublime but the moroccon chicken was dissapointing. I can only describe Moroccon cuisine as lack lustre, too heavy on the apricots and too light on flavour. It was a Sophie Grigson jobby and unfortunately tasted like it.

Maundy Thursday then and the agony in the garden, which, when you think of it, is the traditional time for all the flymos and pruning sheers to come out, I wonder if the Lord knew not what he do and that his crucifiction would coincide with horticulture and backache.

Never one to miss an occassion, the Ladyfriend and I are off to the cinema tonight with Mr C & Mr D to see Mel Gibson's slasher movie "The passion of the Christ". I'm quite looking forward to it. I like to emerse myself in an occassion. We were trying to sing Easter hymns on the way to work but could only come up the green hill one, I was convinced there was a little donkey involved but it just wasn't happening.
Anyway, start every day with this.

I think I may be a jinx on Arsenal. I have kept an ear on their triumphant unbeaten success yet had never managed to watch them - until Saturday when they played the Manchester United neanderthals. They lost. Then last night on the radio they seemed to be doing ok. I got home from work and put the television on and they lost. I won't watch them anymore incase they get relegated. Lovely long legs though. They are like horses at dressage with their white socks.

Wenger's fatal mistake was not playing Frank McLintock.

It seems hooping aint as easy as I had first hoped. Last night, during the news, I tried frantically to master my new red and white ring but to no avail. I tried to concentrate my attentions to the news hoping my hips would fall naturally into the rythm but it didn't work. As muslim extremists flashed before my eyes so did my hoop and I was down on the floor sooner than you could say "Abdel-Majid al-Khoei".

My buttocks feel like they have been through the mill so it must be doing me some good.

What a weekend! Thanks to my handsome big brother the ladyfriend and I scooped £55 on the national, the first time I have tried an online bookmakers. It lacked the atmosphere of the high street bookies but to make up for it the ladyfriend and I spat on the floor and smoked a packet of Woodbines as we placed our £5 each way bet on Amberleigh House. I've never picked a winner before (unless you count the ladyfriend) and I was cock-a-hoop!

Talking of hoops, I have joined the legion of "Hoopers" an underclass but a growing trend- Check this out. I bought my first hoop this morning from a pregnant toy shop owner who was eating celery sticks and houmous.

In a radio interview earlier this morning, Howard Johnson, General Secretary of the British Union of Post Office Workers. Mr. Johnson was up in arms about a recent proposal that the British mail adopt the German method of addressing envelopes in which the house number is written after the name of the road, not before it (i.e. Downing Street 10, instead of 10 Downing Street). Johnson spoke at great length about the enormous burden this change would place upon postal employees, insisting that "Postal workers would be furious because it would turn upside-down the way we have learned to sort." "Not only that, it would cost in the region of 40 million pounds to pay for these alterations" His comments elicited an immediate reaction from the listening audience, many of whom phoned up to voice their support for Johnson's campaign.

On terrorism - the news is indeed good that the police have swooped on the potential terrorists in Uxbridge. When I was a youngster we lived in a climate of fear of the IRA. I remember after the Harrods bomb at Christmas I would be at my wits end when my mother swanned off up to Bond Street on the 9:45 to Marylebone.

Now the teenyboppers of today have to worry about being blown to bits in Claire's Accessories by Al Qaeda. I wonder if they were intent on blowing up the new Chimes shopping centre in Uxbridge? I hope not, I rather like UniGlo.

Hi jinks in the house this morning. Rancid milk, so had to wait until the shop opened for fresh supplies. Decided to do everything backwards and to have breakfast when we were scrubbed and dressed only there was no hot water due to a cock up with the boiler. Kettles were boiled.

Finally got porridge whilst digesting scenes of Britney Spears which stuck in my throat. Made a healthy balanced meal for the ladyfriend and I for lunch (does feta cheese go off in the fridge? Mine had a bit of a twang.) Noted that the looney lady next door is abscent, I think she may have been taken back into care.

Got to the bathroom with a steaming kettle only to find the water was warm enough atlast. Hoorah.

Got in the car and we started to sing "You do something to me" (not Weller) finished singing and I said "You should always start the day with Cole Porter" but the ladyfriend replied "Yes and not cold water!" We laughed! We shall dine out on that one for months to come.

To the country this weekend to stay with the Ladyfriend's brother and family. Had a lovely time. Went to Marlborough, Wilts and had a nice window shop - stopping to buy occasionally. There were such lovely things in the ancient market town and thankfully the weather was kind. I like Wiltshire, it's country casual yet gentrified if you know what I mean.

Woke this morning to gentle bird song and the odd car zooming by, I thought to myself ten years ago it would have been quieter, a hundred years ago quieter still and then five hundred years ago you'd be hard pressed to hear a milk maid, infact my bed would have probably been a wooded glade.

You know, I am sitting here at work at too early an hour, I am losing badly at online scrabble, I am unable to conjure any enthusiasm to work, everything is going on around me and I feel like I am having an out of body experience. I have my headphones on and I am listening to an Eddi Reader cd, I have just replied to an email sent to me from this bloke and I can think of a 1,000,000 and 1 things I'd rather be doing than uploading the Ealing Times website. Still life goes on and, like the tide coming in, the day is on the turn and before I know it I will be knee deep and will have rather too much on my plate. I will start that tense tightening of my chest, forget to breathe and work too hard.

Had a smashing time last night. Went to Pizza Express with my gentleman friend. The ladyfriend went out herself to dine with an old friend. Freaky thing was, unbeknownst to us we were only a few doors away from each other as she was in the Saracens Head!

Hearty thanks to Mr C and Mr D, we are now the proud owners of a Robinson Crusoe casserole pan.

Listening to the Scissor Sisters cd which I have loaned from Michelle in my office, hopefully she will be too busy today to demand it back from me, I shall stay out of her way and point my gaze toward the window on her approach. It is a good cd.

Tonight I am dining with a gentleman friend in Beaconsfield, a place where tills ring the loudest in the evening as the whole town has been converted into restaurant world. It is almost like a theme town. It is most unsettling to think that once there were ordinary shops and the hum of a community now it has been replaced with multinational food emporiums and the hum of an extractor fan.

I woke up this morning, sat bolt upright and said "this is going to be a lovely day, a most brilliant of days and I am grateful for it" I said this because the ladyfriend and I are wishing the weeks away until Easter and a break from work. I intend therefore to try and make the best of all days and every day and value life a tad more.

I do have a lot to look forward to, tis true. My Eddi Reader tickets arrived this morning, there is the Elaine Paige Experience in June, the thought of two weeks on Eastbourne beach and a 25% off evening at Cargo on Thursday - a whirlwind indeed.

I shall try to wring out 100% enjoyment from every 60 minutes or atleast try and clockwatch a little less.

Last night we were walking along Eastbourne seafront going by one of the big hotels by the pier. I don't know if you are familiar, but one of them has a glass window where all the old people sit drinking, eating and watching the world - and their lives - go by. I spotted this bloke with the worst syrup I have ever seen, it looked like a badly flattened hamster. I couldn't keep my eyes off it and as a consequence, didn't see the lamp post that I walked into. Oh it could have been nasty, thankfully my generously proportioned bust got the full brunt and saved me from breaking my nose! He who laughs last as they say.

By the way Super Stepdad, I was plugged into my modem.

The ulcer in my mouth is, touch wood, on the retreat, I have hit it hard with a number of preperations and three nights of good sleep. I feel slightly better and will spend this weekend by the sea and take the air. The ladyfriend will wheel me out in my bath chair and leave me unattended by the bandstand whilst she takes off round the shops.

It's Mother's Day this weekend and I will be spending Sunday with my Wonderful Mother. I am very lucky I have a WM, the lady who lives next door is a right rotter - I heard screams through the thin walls this morning.......

I'm undergoing a little 'refurb' here at life for lola in an attempt to keep things interesting and detract from the crap that I have been writing lately - oh where is my muse?

Talking of being artistic, the ladyfriend and I have just finished watching the BBC's 'The Divine Michelangelo' which we had videod. It was exceptional, also, that Gunpowder and plot thing on sunday was brilliant. It seems, like the council, there is a mad rush to spend our money on stuff before the end of the financial year. In the case of the council we get roadworks with the BBC we get something worth watching. Better I suppose a few hours of good tv then many mediocre.

The ladyfriend had a point this morning, on our way to work she said "I wonder if Osteopaths look at people as they drive along and think 'sit up straight woman' or 'raise your head man' I wonder if they ever switch off?" she said.

I am pleased as punch, my diet guru Jane Clarke has her own website! Atlast. She's a canny nutritionist though as she is charging for all the best stuff. Still, it is a lovely website and I will not hear a word against her, afterall, she got me flowing again. www.bodyfoods.com

I've a bugger of a mouth ulcer this week, I know what did it, last week I abused my body with too much wine, little sleep and hard work. The kitchen in Eastbourne looks brilliant because of it but I feel spectacularly rough. I am rather run down and am in need of rest and recouperation.

Off on holiday tomorrow, back down to Eastbourne, I am therefore buoyed with enthusiasm for life. Love IS all around, it's a far cry from yesterday when I was a little bit fractious.

On the motorway on Sunday I saw a small family car with a girl in the back sucking her thumb with her head pressed up against the window, her hair was lank and the pallour of her face was grey, her eyes lacked sparkle and I think I saw dribble. She was about 28. She was obviously a 'funny' kid locked in time with a mental age of 6 and destined to wear tracksuits and to be dosed up to the eyeballs on medication. Trapped with the mind of a child but the body of a woman.

She was oblivious to being overdrawn, to getting up for work, to bank loans, to buying car tax, to making pesto, to drinking red wine, the complexities of love, the joy of current affairs and the anger at GM crops.

Has she been dealt a bad card from the deck of life or is she flush with contentment? She's probably more enlightened than the biggest buddha going.

The ladyfriend and I are so happy, Super Step Dad has fitted our kitchen in Eastbourne and it is fabulous. He was incredible and, in one weekend, removed eight months of stress from my shoulders. I now feel as happy as the day I picked up the keys from the estate agent and can not wait to start painting it.- We set sail for Eastbourne on Wednesday morning, smock and beret in hand.

I was in the bath this morning and I had one of those moments of realisation. I was flapping my feet about and was looking at the water and the refracting waves (the transmission of wave through dense media) and I was thinking how people like Da Vinci and his like made all those discoveries that benefit all man kind. I then thought, I'm not going to be one of those people who do that or for that matter engineer bridges like Brunel, I'm just going to gently pass through this world trying to leave as little mess as possible. It made me feel quite content and rather happy. Why anyone wants to be famous is beyond me, better a life spent in quiet disbelief than one imbued with self dillusion.

I am cock a hoop, my Super Step Dad is here in Eastbourne fitting our kitchen and he has made the most fantastic job. We are pleased to bits!

The photo is of SSD drilling holes into a door panel. I can't believe how close the kitchen is coming to completion - I can almost smell the champagne!

I am a lucky E bayer, last night I scooped the England v Germany DVD for £3.70! I am so glad as I missed it when it was on the telly. I will always remember the evening however as I was stuck in a riffy pub in Reading with a pikey with illusions of grandeur. It wasn't pleasant. The things I do - or did.

I remember the ladyfriend sending me text messages every time a goal was being scored, I thought she was taking the piss, but realising my present company was, I duly left the pub and drove off into the night with nothing but grim reality for company.

Nearly exploded with delight in Tesco when I saw the new Coast magazine There really is a magazine for everything these days. It is for people who live by the sea and ticks every box for the ladyfriend and I. I do like it but I have my reservations, it does smack a little bit of Living etc. for my liking, the people in it look as though their children are called "India" or "Rafferty". It's aimed at the buffalo mozzarella generation and could do with being a little bit more Country Living, but I shall reserve my judgement. My love of the sea is equalled only by my love of magazines and I should be delighted to have both. Their website looks bleary though, I can say that.

I saw an old man this morning who looked like Mr Nicholls (an old gentleman I knew in my childhood, I wonder what became of Mr Nicholls?

I am sitting in my seat itching like a good 'un. The ladyfriend's choice of new washing softener has proved a bit of a damp squid. We have gone back to our old one but, like unwelcome guests, the discomfort is hanging around. It will be days before we are on top of things. I don't blame the ladyfriend, I understand the need for variety, however, it is a shame that we must suffer for her whims and fancies.

Saw a lady at the bus stop on the way to work this morning with a very strange broach stuck on her coat. It was a big piece of round metal, sort of like the end of an IKEA curtain pole, perhaps it was one. Ladies of a certain age always have to pin something onto their coats for extra flourish. I prefer a fox foot myself.

We were driving passed a church yesterday, just as it was chucking out time, and a majority of the God fearing congregation were wearing glasses. It made me wonder if failing eyesight and Christianity go hand in hand. I know some of the Anglican church are short sighted when it comes to homosexuality etc but I wondered if it goes even deeper than that and is physical aswell as mental.

It could be that coming out of a dark church into the Eastbourne sunlight is too much for the retina to take but that Jonathan Edwards is always squinting and he is a man of great faith. It may be far fetched but it is worth considering nonetheless.

Just had to type something today as the 29th February is few and far between. It would be remiss of me to miss it.

The ladyfriend and I positively reek of garlic today, I was a little 'eavy 'anded last night but I can't help it. It's bootiful.

It was just a simple pasta dish but it brought a little bit of Napoli to East Sussex.

We have decided to trot off to Brighton after lunch and press our noses up against shop windows like a couple of Georgy Girls.

Stroke of luck last night, my bid on ebay still goes unchallenged and, whilst the ladyfriend was subdued on red wine, I have bought Valley of the Dolls/Beyond the Valley of the Dolls AND Breakfast at Tiffanys on DVD or £15 on HMV

I was as ratty as hell yesterday and couldn't think of a nice word to say so, by way of an apology, I bring you the hula girl.

This morning has been a rollercoaster. Whilst eating breakfast a package arrived from the boys in spain full of culinary curiousities and cds. I am now set for weeks of new music, I am like a goat who can get through a record collection as though it were grass.

Half way to work the ladyfriend forgets her inhaler and therefore mentally has an asthma attack. We return home and are consequently late for work all this and it begins to snow!

I am therefore out of my usual routine for a Tuesday and need to give my blood time to steady itself. I'm a little bewildered and unsure.

This week is packed to the seams with dinner dates and engagements a few early nights are required or I shall look like Fanny Craddock before long.

Had a marvellous weekend but my, wasn't it cold? The ladyfriend (who has been safely recovered after her kidnap ordeal) and I went to Rye on saturday. We put 'over two hours' in the car park but were round the quaint streets quicker than you can say "Mapp and Lucia"

I did take some photographs if you would like to see what you missed. click here to 'ave a look

The money is in the suitcase at Waterloo Station.

Watched the tail end of the Brit Awards last night which was as dreary and predictable as ever. One shock though was hearing Justin Timberlake speak. I had never heard his squeaky, nasal trill before and was quite taken aback. He sounds, and come to think of it looks, like a pre-pubescent Gonzo from the Muppets.

I was pleased to see The Darkness although a bit sad that the bloke who plays bass has got that 'member of the audience not the band look'. I've seen it before, notably with Marco Pirroni from Adam and the Ants (circled) Sometimes people in bands just don't look right, they look like they try too hard it goes wrong, especially when they try looking enigmatic in the centre spread of Smash Hits. Give Marco his due, he's still going strong with a lovely website, although he now looks like Divine without the drag.

Tonight is the Brit Awards which, let's face it, are a bit of a dissapointment. I have little or no respect for the music industry and am cock-a-hoop that they are getting a kick in the balls with downloadable music - killing music? let's hope so.

What I am most annoyed about is the female artist which every year contains Annie bloody Lennox. Don't get me wrong, I bought her album which is 'average' but worthy of an award? I don't think so. I think she is there to make the numbers up. Dido? Sophie Ellis-Bextor?!!?? The woman missing from the list and who should win is Eddi Reader, her last album was innovative, talented and jolly good yet fails to register in the narrow minded, mainstream selection.

The irony of it all is Eddi Reader is one of the artists which won't suffer from Win MX and Kazza. Infact, anyone who can play live and support themselves on talent alone will survive, it will be the boy and toy bands which will go to the wall. Home taping isn't killing music it's taking it back to where it belongs, the music halls, the pubs, the streets and the people!

Looked after William yesterday - my parent's dog. I had a lovely time using their computer, isn't broadband luxury? I was intent on downloading loads of music but came a bit of a cropper. I could only get snippets of the new Zero 7 album and Travis was a dead loss. It all takes so long aswell!

However, I strangely managed to get Carmel, JX and amazingly Morrissey singing Moonriver. I also have most of Joan Armatrading's back catalogue which was a nice surprise. As I type this I am 'dropping the pilot'.

I'm going to a gig tonight. My word, at my age. I will have to hold the Horlicks tonight, it's going to be a late one.

Something you don't see everyday - coming to work this morning a chap standing at the bus stop looked exactly like Badly Drawn Boy Infact, I had to look twice. He had the tea cosey hat, green army jacket and shaggy chops. He did look good. It made me think how people who like people, apart from being the luckiest people in the world, like them so much that they try and look like them.

It does figure that your taste in music at such an impressionable age can have dire consequences for the rest of your life. Look at the punks and their ridiculous hair. It looks lovely on Top of the Pops but at the pic 'n' mix counter at Woolies it does lose something. I thank the Lord and my handsome brother that I was steered away from the path of gloomy music. I could be working in a chicken factory had I followed The Sisters of Mercy.

Just when I was - let's not say 'warming to' - but coming round to the French they go and vote to ban the Hijab. What mentalists. It's just such a 'French' thing to do. What a country, what people. I'm sure that they didn't surrender in the war but were in cahoots with Hitler all along.

Just what they hope to gain from this absurd attack on children is anyones guess. There will be holy war that's what, there will be suicide bombers up and down the Champs Elysee before you can say 'onion soup' Liberte, Egalite my arse. Talk about Paris Match - the place will be burnt to the ground when the fundamentalists get going.

THIS IS A VERY NOVEL WAY TO CLEAN THE INSIDE OF YOUR MONITOR. REMEMBER TO MOVE YOUR MOUSE TO GET GOOD CLEANING. CLICK ON THIS LINK IT TAKES A COUPLE OF SECONDS.
 
 
 
 

I'm so pissed off. This weekend I set up a video tape to record the whole six hours of Angels in America. Sat down last night to make a dent into it and the video is all f*cked up and no good, it's all shakey and jumpy and void. I am ticked off. Everytime I video something it seems to go wrong. I shall just have to hope it comes out on DVD.

The ladyfriend is brimming with excitement, she read yesterday that Barbara Streisand may decide to come to England and pick up the microphone again. She's a life-long fan of the hooky nosed show tune belter. I've told her she can go up to £500 tops for a ticket and she's going on her own. We're already off to see Elaine Paige in June - Je Ne Regrette Rien!

I'm wired up right! Yes, thanks to my handsome brother we are now cooking on electric in Eastbourne. What a fabulous job he made of the red wires. I am tres happy and the enormous stress and strain which comes with property ownership has begun to subside. Oven roasted beetroot anyone?

I've found something rather lovely on the internet for those that would like to see the seaside click this link. It does make me happy to see Eastbourne when I am so far away from the place.....happy days indeed.

Did anyone see the match last night? My word! It was real Roy of the Rovers stuff. The ladyfriend and I had no idea of the score. It was incredibly exciting as a result. We like Manchester City because of the nice blue outfit and that nice Mcmanaman man and so we were very glad to see him come on. It was real edge of the seat stuff - come on you blues - we cheered!

If you didn't catch it take a look at the match report here.

Found an enchanting website whilst looking for something else yesterday. It's called Trailer Trash Dolls. It seems a very successful cottage industry run by a woman who proclaims her only interests are Dolls, Dance and Dogs. If you have a spare minute it's worth taking a look and asking "why?"

It seems like a very normal Wednesday today, sometimes it's handy when days are like that. There are no pressing engagements, no pressures or deadlines. Why the day is like a fresh canvas for me to paint whatever I like on. I feel in an abstract kind of mood - I shall get out my sable now.

My hair is a right old state at the moment. Apparently the trend these days is 'length' and never being one to miss a bandwagon I am jumping on whilst it's still in town. It looks a bit of a mess so I am keeping a hat to hand at every occasion. We shall see how we go, two months without seeing scissors and still counting. I am worried I shall end up looking like Kane Dingle by Easter.

Talking of Emmerdale, I must say I find it the most engaging serial on tv, the ladyfriend and I are hooked but my goodness it moves fast. It all comes to a head on Friday, infact it all comes to ahead every Friday that's what makes it so fabulous.

For those that agree with me you must check out this website click here it has all the old cast on it..

I am currently listening to Gaydar radio, it's fantastic, I have been jigging about at work like a rent boy on speed. It's ace.

Do you know, I was sitting eating my Quaker's this morning and I flicked on to Trisha. There were some seriously thick northerners on there. There was a baby of questionable paternity being discussed and some fairly colourful language.

Normally I scoff and take the rise out of their low intelligence but I suddenly had an epiphany. "My goodness" I thought, Prescott is right, we have to divert money up north and fast otherwise generation after generation of northerners are going to turn out like this. There will be single parent after single parent after drugged up transexuals with records as long as Herb Albert's. It's good news for the producers of Trisha but is it good news for us?

I wonder if one day soon we will open the Sunday supplements and instead of seeing appeals for chained up bears in Turkey we will see women from Rochdale standing at the checkout of Quick Save.

Let us make this country and its people great again. If we can support the rest of europe we must be able to support our own home grown scum.