It's a great day indeed - I have Goldfinches! Two of the buggers on my nyger seed feeder. I am in total delight. This bird feeding lark is enormously rewarding. This afternoon I intend to get to grips with the stock control as I seem to be running down on mixed seed quicker than I thought possible. It's got to be done, afterall, you only get out what you put in.

Just recently I have noticed my mind wandering off way back into my history. Just yesterday a memory popped into my head from my infant school, fresh as if it happened last week. I can only liken it to a glass of lemonade which has been sitting a while, gone a bit flat, and then all of a sudden a bubble springs up and breaks the surface.

It's almost as if the Numbskulls in my brain are having a bit of a clear out and are boxing up old memories and reminiscing as they do so. They are probably pulling out all sorts of things, holding them up and saying 'do we still need this?'. I do hope they hold on to my most cherished thoughts and movements. I shall be bereft if I lose the moment when I was chosen at school to say 'I play the triangle, ting-a-ling-a-ling'

Had a few 'issues' on the bus this morning. First off, I was diddled out of 15p by the bus driver. Foreign fella, obviously sending the money back home for his uncle's eye operation. But I let it go, I toddled off to my seat feeling awkward and tried to tot up where things had gone wrong in our exchange of ticket and cash.......I thought the asians were supposed to be good at maths.

Anyway, at a stop further along the road a boy got on who gets on everyday. He was late and ran for the bus and got on puffed out. I knew how he felt as I was running a little behind myself this morning. Long story but it involved getting shampoo in my eye. It stung to buggery - Lord knows what it must have done to the rabbit. Anyway, the boy was scrambling around in his pocket and a look fell across his face of sheer horror and panic. He hadn't enough change and looked to the driver for some sign of generosity. None came, horrible little man. I rose up from my seat and walked towards him, how much do you need? I asked. The boy was deeply grateful, I did my little bit of altruism for the day and everyone on the bus was happy - except the nasty bus driver. May his uncle go blind.

I travelled back in time this morning - only briefly and come to think of it, in my own imagination - but none the less I was transported back to the late Victorian era.

I was forcing down reheated porridge (the ladyfriend makes a batch in the morning, leaves earlier than me and I eat the remaining later) and watching the breakfast news. The first item was regarding the rubbish our schoolchildren eat, well I thought, "it's like the Victorian days when they used to eat gruel, I may as well be watching the news in 1895". Moira moved on and told me that a prison somewhere was over run with mice and pigeons! My eyebrow lifted and I had to check that indeed I was sitting comfortably and it was 2005. THEN if I was not shaken enough, I was told about JM Barrie's novel Peter Pan. Goodness me. I was searching for the smelling salts when the travel news came on and guess what? The roads were thick with fog - a pea souper!

Ofcourse I hadn't really gone back in time, that was clear when it dawned on me that I had to face a day of work, I'm quite sure I would have stayed at home in the Victorian period. I'd have got on with a spot of needlepoint and eaten sponge cakes.

What a fabulous weekend at the seaside. On Friday I needed some fish, the supermarket had no sea bream so the ladyfriend and I thought we'd try the fish stall on the beach. It was amazing. I felt like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall as I rummaged around in delight at the huge selection of sea bounty before me. It was very reasonably priced aswell. Packed with locals which is always a good sign. A slightly retarded looking man scaled and gutted my fish as we kept a watchful eye over our car which we had not put a ticket on - 1.20 for one hour, I ask you! I intend to return and taste more of their catch.

I also had my hair cut in Eastbourne, very cheap but I look a bit like an extra from Schindler's List as it's a bit shorter than perhaps I would have liked. Still, I'm quids in.

I feel a bit bad. There was a message on the answer machine from a lass who wanted to do a hairdressing course at the college. We often get these messages and phone calls because people don't put the area code in before calling. I listened as she said 'can you call me back to confirm a place, blah, blah' I deleted the message.

It struck me this morning that this naughty blunder of mine might affect the rest of this persons life. By me not taking the time to call her back and explain her mistake I might be responsible for her not learning to be a hairdresser. Instead of her learning the ways of the cut and blow dry, she may give up and take a job in a bookies. She may rub shoulders with the wrong kind of people. Fall in love with a cheeky rogue who promises to 'treat her right' only a few years down the line this all goes by the by when the 2.45 at Cheltenham doesn't pan out as planned.

She may be beaten but stays with him because she loves him and she's used to the luxury of his occasional wealth, thrilled herself by the excitement of the dog track and all the attractions it brings. She may end up addicted to trannies which help her sleep and to steady her nerves. Living in the flat above the bookies opposite a hair salon which, if the BBC's Cutting It is anything to go by, she could have ended up owning. All because of me.

I've just had a lovely lump of simnel cake. It was lovely. It was the first time I have ever had it. Rachel and Barrie, two very nice ladies at work, have been baking cakes and selling slices for something to do with the Tsunami appeal every wednesday. It's been very successful, I've gorged myself like Augustus Gloop.

Eager to take part in tradition I plumped for the Simnel cake this morning because of its Easter connections. I was not dissapointed and wolfed down my marzipan apostle with glee and not the slightest hesitation. I am very pleased to see there is still some left for later.....well it is for the disaster struck orphans.

I must say I am growing rather weary of this public transport lark. In my day when you caught a bus everyone else in the queue kept schtum. I've been accosted three times in as many bus trips!

Yesterday I caught the bus one stop behind the usual as I wanted to withdraw some smackers from the mini tesco on the village green. Green, that's a laugh, it's like Piccadily Circus in the rush hour. I sat on the bench which was kindly donated by someone no longer with us and inhaled dangerous levels of carbon monoxide. People came and went, parked in the spot designated and painted in bright yellow for buses only (I shall never do this again) which caused me untold stress. In the end I had to stand in the road so the bus, when it finally arrived, could see me! After all that I was charged fifty pence more than I would have done had I gone to my normal stop of choice - a distance of less than an eigth of a mile.

This morning I wore my magnolia coloured corduroy trousers to work. It was raining when I left so I took an umbrella. They are now splattered with road filth around the ankles, I've somehow dropped chocolate rather too close to the private parts area and I and my trousers look rather unsavoury. All because of public transport.

I've done something a bit nasty to my back. I'm not in the first flush of youth and I embarked on some vigorous hoovering yesterday. The next time I do it, which won't be soon, I shall do some limbering up before I set off around Axminster.

Had a nifty weekend. My Super Stepdad saw an offer at Staples which was advertised in the Daily Mail. It was a computer with a DVD rewriter thingy for 199 quid! What a bargain. I got up on Saturday and set orrrfff for Staples clutching a page of the newspaper.......or so I thought.

When I got there I headed straight for the PC bit but couldn't see the offer on display. I dug into my pocket to pull out the newspaper clipping but discovered to my horror that I had grabbed the wrong page and a middle aged, middle class woman battling with the menopause yet still finding time to juggle a career in public relations and by the way, this is what I'll be wearing to Ascot, staring back at me!

I went up to a spotty man at the help desk and he laughed at my suggestions. He took me to the cheapest computer which they had and it was far too expensive. Humouring me he ran the barcode through his computer and to my delight, and his horror, it came up at 199 pounds!!! I pulled out my switch card faster than Paula Radcliffe dropping out of a marathon.

Last night the ladyfriend and I popped in to see the Double D's, Dawn and Dave. They are off soon to live on the Costa Del Sol and live it up in the sun. They are leaving Blighty for a life of sunshine and sangria and, if the measure of their gin and tonics are anything to go by, complete inebriation.

What a terrible, tragic evening. Last night I had to go and pick the ladyfriend up from work. It was dark but I suddenly realised that the light coloured blobs on the road were not leaves but frogs. Oh my God, I thought, they are all going to die. Obviously last night was the night when they were programmed to head for the river that runs through my part of the world. Trouble is, it is cut off by three major roads. I tried to drive carefully but on return with the ladyfriend in the car I could see absolute devastation. All over the road were splattered frogs, utter carnage. I tried to guide the car away from the live ones but I saw people behind me oblivious to the poor little things.

When I slowed down so I wouldn't kill one the ladyfriend said 'come on, get a life' I shut my eyes as proceeded along. She said that nature would provide and that it was survival of the fittest etc, but mother nature could not possibly have taken into consideration the motor car.

When we got home I ran in to get an old newspaper so I could scoop up one that I had seen alive but by the time I had got back to it it was no more.

This morning as I walked to the bus stop I lost count of the mutilated bodies of frogs that had tried but failed to get to their breeding grounds, it looked like the Somme - they stood no chance.

It's a long story so I won't bore you with the details but I had to drop the ladyfriend off at work this morning. She starts work at 8am which involved me getting up a bit earlier than I would prefer. I sat bleary eyed in the car at the ungodly hour as we motored along the Buckinghamshire highways. Imagine my delight, I looked over at a river bank and I saw a Kingfisher! I was over joyed. You do indeed have to get up early to catch a worm it seems. My tiredness dissapeared as I saw the riverside royalty. It was much smaller than I imagined.

When I arrived at my own place of toil I spoke about the mornings revelations and a nice lady told me that when we move to our new offices (we are relocating) there is a pair of Kingfishers that can oft be seen there. My bag is packed already.

Went to Tesco last night to do a big shop. The Ladyfriend has begun to keep peculiar hours because of her new job so, in a fit of organisation, I decided to buy food for the week. I had a collosal trolley. It was not out of choice, all the nippy brief shopper trolleys were gone and I was left with a vast skip of a thing. It had a section for flowers, shopping lists, environmental boxes and triplets. It was a bit strenuous on the old back putting my consumables in and out. I had to stand on tippy toe to make sure the eggs were safe.

I had had a bit of good news at work, we had all been given a 300 quid bonus as part of a profit share thing so I pushed the boat out. I picked nice long peppers, rare breed eggs, organic everything, a big corn fed organic chicken, that will do for Thursday's tea I thought. Anyway, happy with my shopping I went up to the shop girls and put my stuff on the conveyor belt. I stood waiting for the lady infront. I looked at her shopping and I felt awful. She had economy blue stripe everything. She didn't look common, just down on her luck a bit. Her hair looked lank and she looked at my shopping and I could tell she was embarrassed about hers. I felt rotten.

She was taking a bit of time putting her stuff back into her purse and the girl on the till fiddled with the plastic bags. "Don't wait for me" said the lady as if she didn't matter. I wanted to whisk her away and treat her to a slap up tea and get her hair done right there and then I was so sad for her. She slipped off into the night with her little blue stripe supper leaving me feeling awful with my lollo rosso.

Back from my week off. I feel like a real person again. I didn't get up to too much during my short break but it did get time to stop and stare. Infact on several occassions I twitched the nets. One of my favourite views was of the next door neighbour who is advanced in years building a bonfire in his back garden. I felt a lovely calm feeling as the flames licked into the sky.

Because of my time off I exposed myself to tv and have become addicted to The Coach Trip on Channel 4 It's brilliant, the people on it are just fabulous, common as a Burberry cap and I love it. My favourite is the northern git who won't eat 'foreign muck' but is trying to make friends with the people. His conversation with an old lady in Munich was priceless.

The ladyfriend and I took a trip to Chichester on Saturday to see Clare Teal who was excellent of course, she was playing in an old warehouse on an industrial estate but it was a full house. Chichester is lovely, we drove down to West Wittering (you have to pay a pound to get in) and I stared across the Solent at the Isle of Wight. A salty tear came to my eye as I longed to walk on the diamond shaped Isle. My one dream in life is to have a modest cottage, aga, labrador and caravan stroke campsite on the Island.......one day.

One hour left of work today and then I am orrff on my holiday. I am about to embark on my first week of annual leave of the year and it hasn't come a moment too soon. I have a kitchen to decorate and I am ready and willing for a spot of DIY.

We had a significant snowfall this morning but it's all gone now. It's just like everything else these days - hurried and instant. People don't want to have something for a long time. Can't wait to cook something for dinner? Chuck a plastic tray of slop in the microwave. We are all on a speeding conveyor belt to a vast landfill site with our wide screen tellies, mobile phones and i-pods going on before.

I've been thinking, I wonder if it would improve life if there was a pocket sized canned laughter machine which you could carry around with you. In certain company (work, supermarkets, restaurants) you could press it. It would fill the room with laughter and improve dull situations.

Had to get the bus today. I should leave the comment there really as I think the gravity of the situation is enough but I shall share with you what happened......

The Ladyfriend took the family car this morning so it was down to public transport for me to get to work. I have not had to use this means of transport for a very long time and I am amazed at just how public it has become.

I was rather late for the timetabled time so I scooted out of the door with very little glamour. I was hoping to waltz down the street with a similar gate to that of Cagney & Lacey in the titles of their hit crime show - no such luck, I looked more like a desperate Nerys Hughes. On reaching the bus stop a rather portly girl was there (wearing slimming black) with rathere severe hair. I thought people weren't supposed to talk on these occasions but she mumbled on about the bus not turning up.

Fifteen minutes had gone by and I was thinking that it was a bit of a rum do when a severely depressed looking housewife came along. She didn't look a stranger to using the bus on a regular basis but I didn't fancy asking her if she knew what time it was due. Her hair was rather long and straw like and her face was worn with too much exposure to ciggies, the stress of a teenage tearaway and Coronation Street.
She had the cough of a coal miner. She stood behind me, doped up to the eyeballs with trannies,breathing with the last remnants of her lung.

The bus arrived, thankfully, I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head and the air of B&H leaching into my clothes. The big girl got on first and the bus driver waved her on, ooh I thought, perhaps we are getting a free ride because of the bus being late. He carried on waving as I got onboard, I walked joyfully to my itchy seat when he shouted "oi!" Oh I was so humiliated, he hadn't meant me to get on for free at all. The fat bird had a bus pass.

I don't know about you but I find youngsters terrifying. If the ladyfriend and I have to venture out to the High Street or - God forbid - the shopping mall of a Saturday my heart beats wildly in my chest. It's not for the love of the latest fashions but through fear. I scuttle by McDonalds with wings on my heels as youths congregate, spit and use colourful language outside. It makes me shudder.

The girls are the worst, and they're so big. I remember be scared stiff of Imelda Davies (pictured) from Grange Hill and I don't recall her packing a blade. I'm not sure if female emancipation was such a good idea. If young women aren't shop lifting, smoking, spitting, having babies or binge drinking they are laying seige to the shopping precints, bullying shoppers and demanding money with menacies. The Two Ronnies certainly were on to something with The Worm That Turned.

No doubt if any of them are brought to justice an ASBO would be worn with pride. If you ask me we should put all these horrible girls in the army and send them off to Iraq. That'll bring peace to the middle east.

It's the Ladyfriend's first day at work today. I dropped her off this morning, she was very anxious. I left her there in the snow with enough bus fare to come home if the people were nasty. I have not heard anything yet so I am assuming all is well.

I've bought myself a new mobile phone. The first time I have ever had a brand new one. I have always thought them rather expensive and have eyed them with suspicion but there was a sale on and I now have a T-mobile c1200. It's nothing fancy I assure you but it does have polyphonic noises which appeal.

It's really confusing though because there are so many buttons and things I've got to do, the book is a nightmare. I need a youngster to help me with it. I'd like to have a nice ringtone, something from the hit parade. I'd cut a dash in the Co-Op with something ritzy blaring from my pocket.

At work each day I get snippets of all manner of tunes eminating from bags, blazers and desks. They're really loud.......actually, it's rather annoying.

Out to dinner last night at the Crown with Mr C & Mr D. We were talking about the theory that everyone has an optimum age where you stop developing and are at your happiest. It does not matter how old you are now, go back to a time when you were at your happiest when everything else after it wasn't so good. You've got to discount marriages and births because obviously these things are the best things in your life.

I worked out that it was when I was ten. I was at the Chalfont St. Peter Church of England School and it was wonderful.

The ladyfriend reckons hers was when she was six, Mr C eleven and Mr D 14. It all began to make sense. My interests now reflect my interests then. It's as though we have to get over the hump of puberty etc and after we've done our natural wants (having Children, form relationships etc) we can go back to whatever age we want. How lovely.

It's like living in one of those snow globes at the moment. One minute you are quietly sitting in a studious fashion at work when suddenly the world outside is spinning with snow flakes which disappear as they hit the ground. It's a bit weird. The daylight does not alter but it seems as though someone has picked us up and given us a shake.

I am deeply annoyed that we have escaped the winter drifts. When you turn on the telly you can see snow ploughs clearing the roads and kids throwing snowballs whilst our meagre snow fall looks like dandruff on the vicar's shoulders. It's almost like hearing about a party that you are not invited to. Everyone else is going on about it infront of you so you console yourself with the fact that Blankety Blank will be on and you don't want to go anyway.

These earthquakes in Iran.......you don't suppose they are testing their nuclear capabilities underground to avoid suspicion do you?

On the way to work this morning a rather portly lady was bumbling along the path with a sense of urgency about her. She had her head down and I thought to myself, were this a film or television drama we would be hearing a rather loud soundtrack, something involving brass, percussion and the odd bass drum. I then saw a tall girl crossing the road with a frown, a kind of willo the wisp. She would require something more flim flam, perhaps Eric Satie's Gymnopedie. It got me into thinking what soundtrack I would like. I've plumped for the theme tune to A summer Place. It think it would suit me down to the ground.

Still expecting a good snowfall but nothing significant yet. I told the ladyfriend that when we get our dream cottage it will have to be somewhere which is exposed to real weather. She said "snow and flooding?" I replied "Good heavens no flooding - I'd lose all my horse brasses!"

As I write this the ladyfriend is having her hair set. She is trying a new Salon as the other one keeps hiking up the rates. I feel for her, if there is one thing I dislike it's having my hair done by a stranger. I'm happy to have my hair chopped by Pedro for ten quid and will always turn up at his barber shop as long as I can get a zimmer frame through the door. He doesn't do a colour though, which is what the ladyfriend at her time of life requires.

Looking at the clock now, I can imagine she is in the hands of a demonic hair washer, having her neck and spine twisted, scalp scalded and confidence torn to shreds. Poor lass. To quote Morrissey's Hairdresser on Fire toon: "I sense the power,Within the fingers, Within an hour the power,Could totally destroy me,
(or, it could save my life)

As regards the snow, I'm pretty ticked off that all we have had is a gentle powdering and the rest of the country has had a deluge. It's almost as though we are the kitchen work top where a Victoria Sandwhich cake has had icing sugar sieved on to it. Only the cake has been removed, leaving us with the gentle excess of the housewife's shake.

'Cheer up, it's not the end of the world' I said to someone the other day. She was in a panic trying to get her work done, to hit a deadline, that kind of thing. She looked at me with panic in her eyes as if to say that it really was the end of the world but she couldn't tell me. I was moved by her plight into thinking it could be.

Most super heroes go about their business saving the planet but not letting on about it, choosing to hide themselves in normal jobs, then tearing off to stop evil without upsetting the office - pretending to go to the dentist or having a smear. So, the next time you say 'it's not the end of the world' think on.

Carol Hatfield - the nicest American in the world has sent me this picture of a Goldfinch in her garden. Carol lives with extreme temperatures - note the snow on the bird bath. Mind you, she's sitting in Hawaii at the moment, slurping on Mai Tais with a lap top on her lap. Carol's quite the jet setter, I picture her in my head bouncing from one location to the next, she rarely stands still. She sent me a very nice philosophical email today. We were talking about life and stuff and she quoted:

we have to live our life going forward, but we can only understand it in reverse

I like that, infact I was sent another one from Wulfie in Watford. Instead of sending me one of those chain joke emails which go on forever and are only then mildly amusing, he copied me in on this Zen one:

It is not necessary to
Reject activity and seek quiet;
Just make yourself inwardly
Empty while outwardly
Harmonious.
Then you will be at peace in
The midst of frenetic activity
In the world

- Sokei-an Sasaki

So today I am feeling rather laid back and empty headed - no one has noticed any difference.

I woke up this morning (and forgive me if this has started turning into the blog of Johnny Morris) to absolute wonderment. My mouth fell open, two Greenfinches were bombing around the lawn! I am amazed at what a gentle tweak of seed can do to the bird world. I just can't imagine what may be coming next......I don't even want to think about it!

Actually, when I did wake up my first thoughts were of Shaker Makers and plaster of Paris. I don't know why, but I had the scent of the stuff under my nose. Puzzling. It brought back a giant wave (is it safe to say that yet) of nostalgia and I nearly sneezed such was its potency.

It made me think of my youth when I tried to form Beatrix Potter characters from rubber moulds. Mrs Tiggwinkle was never supposed to resemble John Merrick but with small pots of paint she was an absolute treasure. I wonder what happened to my work? Lost now I suppose, rotted down like all matter. She probably lies buried in a landfill site with two decades of household waste and hard core above her, giving off noxious fumes no doubt.

I was thinking the other night. We were driving home through Bray and we went by Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck restaurant and the pub he has now taken over too. I was wondering if the ginger chef would be turning the village into a gastronomic theme park like Rick Stein has done to Padstow. I also wondered what the late Beryl Reid would have made of it all. I should imagine she would have championed molecular gastronomy, she would have been first at the bar for a mars bar gin and tonic.

I also noted, moving away from celebrity chefs, how sinister other people's cars are in the dark. I don't mind them in the day when I can see the contents but at night the blackened windows put me off the old mirror, signal manoeuvre. There may be a nice young chap on his way to a ball, an old lady taking the risk of driving after a sherry with her bridge pals or...and this is the bit that worries me......a headless horseman!

Time to crack open the pomagne - the ladyfriend has got a job! I have decided to celebrate by running up a new outfit. I want one of these pictured right-> I wonder how many pillows I'll need for the hat?

I'm ever so pleased as it's been a bit stressy at chez Lola for all involved. We don't have to look through job pages, shop windows and army recruitment videos anymore, the ladyfriend's a working girl!

Last night the ladyfriend and I got into the swing of the Valentine's thing and dined at a uncomplicated bistro in Windsor. We drifted by restaurant windows packed with couples and red balloons. We were lucky to find somewhere and in the end we were seated in a bay window next to a red helium heart.

The food was rather lovely though and I had to undo a button on the drive home. Infact, the amount of food I have tucked away in the last few days doesn't bare thinking about. Two chinese banquets, a fish supper, two portions of stew and last night's platter - my calorie 'in-out' ratio does not make good reading. I feel like a Pate de foie gras duck at the moment, it's as much as I can do to waddle to the bathroom to bathe my folds of overlapping flesh.

Yesterday was the day when all of nature finds a mate, I must get cracking with building bird boxes, I don't want my tits to have a housing problem.

I am absolutely overjoyed. I have attracted Fringilla coelebs (Chaffinches) to the garden. It seems my shake up with the seed selection at the all you can eat snack bar has paid dividends. I stood waiting for the kettle to boil yesterday morning, the steam floating to the window and out of the haze I could see these splendid little birds on the lawn.

I had begun to worry that a couple of rather garish seed feeders that I had bought from B&Q were nothing but white elephants but I have been rewarded for my patience and bird like determination. Now, if I can just lure a yellow hammer it would be something a bit special.

Smashing news from the palace today I don't agree with all this living over the brush and will be glad to see marital matters for the King all above board. I have a great admiration for the man, his views on farming, architecture and office girls and their aspirations are like my own and the news is fine indeed. I look forward to waving my hanky as they trundle past in their gold carriage. This has certainly a week to be British. What with our Ellen and now today's news, I shall have to get up in the loft and dig out the bunting.

Been a bit poorly since Sunday and I have been confined to quarters. I've been a bit chesty. Being off work though I did manage to watch the return of Ellen MacArthur on tv. It was quite a magnificent site - spoiled by the ramshackle commentary of the BBC - to watch the plucky little sailor arrive in Falmouth.

Her endeavours have spurred me into action. I have sent off for Academy Membership of the Eastbourne Soverieng Sailing Club. This time next year I shall hopefully be planning an epic journey of my own.....perhaps a trip over to the Isle of Wight? I may be press ganged whilst dawdling around Cowes and end up in the Southern Ocean peeling spuds for a playboy Prince. Oh I can smell the adventure from the confines of my germ filled, artificially lit office as I write.

Where has all the adventure gone? It's been beaten out of our lives by conformity. These days the biggest decisions we make are to paint the sitting room taupe or Tuscan breakfast. I plan to trawl my mind and come up with some outlandish ideas so I can do something with myself before I am half sick of my own shadow.

Carol Hatfield - the nicest American in the world - has sent me this picture from Pine City, what a nice name for a town....or City come to think of it. I bet it smells fresh, like toilet cleaner, when the sap rises. (by the way Carol your Eddi Reader DVD's are on their way.....I've been a bit slack with my trips to the post office, sorry)

This morning, as a break from porridge, I had jam on toast. Not your usual jam though, it was the nicest jam going, Tip Tree jam. I have found a shop locally that stocks the whole range! Not just strawberry, black currant and cherry but Medlar, Little Scarlet Strawberry, Wild Blueberry, green fig and Christmas jam! Now, I must stop there with the list before I get too many hits from people googling for fruity websites but I must get my happiness across. The conserve shelves are heaving at the Jumbo supermarket in Cosy Corner..........imagine, I used to have to ask for Cosy Corner when I got on a bus, I'd do it gladly now but at the age of 14 it was quite humiliating.

Feeling a bit chesty at the moment, a bit of a streppy throat. I don't have the pressure of a soap salesman with a mock tudor semi in Cheshire but all the same I am rather backed up. The stress has laid me wide open to an opportunist germ and I have been fully broken and entered by it.

To combat the bacteria I am knocking back cans of Ginger Beer (nature's own medicine) so I expect to be back to my punching weight within a few days. Apparently, according to Claire Petulengro, I have to watch out for geminis today.

I've had a bit of a re-fit with the website, the paint's still not dry and the fumes are intoxicating but I think I rather like it. I was shocked into shame to discover last night that I had reached my upload limit so I had to jettison a lot of nonsense that I have had in my files for ages. It was touch and go letting go if you see what I mean.

I am filled with a renewed optimism today, I don't know where it has come from but I welcome it gladly. I have also just been speaking to a very nice gent who wanted me to update some details about his medieval jousting tournament which is on the website at work. He was a lovely bloke, he had all the time in the world and was incredibly cheerful, he's sending me free tickets for the event, what a nice man. Retired no doubt. My Super Step Dad is the same, they seem to emit a kind of relaxed happiness and charm. Today, I am going to pretend I am retired and am just coming into work for a bit of pin money and a bit of company. I shall suck on a Wurthers Original and doze off about 3.

Off to the flicks last night to see Jean-Pierre Jeunet's "A very Long Engagement". It was excellent, a visual massage and a cinematic incarnation of hot buttered crumpets. I loved it. The ladyfriend, who isn't too keen on subtitles, loved it too.

I do like Jean-Pierre Jeunet's stuff although his choice of cast is beginning to turn in to France's answer to the carry on films. If Audrey Tautou doesn't watch it she'll turn in to a frog Hattie Jacques - although she is painfully thin.

I'm 'into' the pictures at the moment,there's another three films the ladyfriend and I have got our eye on. Infact, to be thrifty, we're considering an Orange mobile phone which will more or less pay for itself after the raft of films we want to see. I don't like these modern cinemas though, they smell of stale popcorn and new carpet.

I was taking part in the RSPB Birdwatch survey yesterday. It was rather good fun although it did get a bit smutty. I penciled in that I could see six blue tits on the shrubs. The ladyfriend rushed to get my field guide, flicked to the relevent section and shouted "you've got great tits" although pleased and flattered I was none the less worried about the neighbours - I'm sure ornithology does not figure highly on their agenda at nine o'clock in the morning. She was right though, they had a black stripe down the front.

Today I am busy playing with Freehand, this is my first go - teacher will be proud.

I was awoken this morning by a loud humming from above which I took to be an extraterrestrial sound. Of course, in the cold light of day, I know now that it must have been a strong wind and the tv aerial but in my sleepy slumber it was more sinister - as you can imagine.

I thought to myself, "they've come for me" and that I had been selected to go to their world, learn their secrets and share our cultures, have peculiar things stuck on me and be left brain damaged.

Then I thought, blast, I've got rather a full programme this week and that I would have to turn down their once in a lifetime invitation. I wondered if we would see eye to eye (or lots and lots of eyes) if they saw my reluctance. I wondered if I would be able to get across all the things I had to do by pointing at things and miming. I imagined myself like a frenzied Una Stubbs getting my clue across but at the same time trying not to awake the neighbours, draw the attention of the local authorities and blow the alien's cover.

I caught a few minutes of the John Cleese film 'Clockwise' last night before retiring to bed. I'm in to films from the 80's at the moment. I like the way they sound. Digital enhancement is all well and good but it's rather comforting to hear things the way they used to sound. It's nice that you can't hear a pin drop and that the picture quality is slightly out of focus. The films from this period have their own enhancements far superior than the CGI riddled movies of today. I know the language sounds better, I think actors used to announciate better twenty years ago. I think I might have an 80's film weekend soon, I shall dress in fashion of the day and eat rhum babas.

It's all very sad, Patsy Rowlands has died. I liked her. I think she was one of my favourite Carry On stars. It's a shame. It's certainly not fair when you think that bloody Barbara Windsor is still going strong.

I have also heard some disturbing news from Eastbourne: a woman has been found murdered.It's all a bit grim. It's a lovely shelter where she was found. The Ladyfriend and I often walk by it when we take the air. I hope, after the matter is cleared up (I have every faith in the Sussex police), they don't put one of those memorial things up in there. There is a spot where you come off the M40 where they have placed a cross where a murdered girl was discovered. It fills me with dread everytime I see it. I try not to look but the more I know I don't want to, the more I look.

Went off road in my new boots at the weekend. The ladyfriend and I got absolutely covered in mud, had a few map 'issues' but all in all we had a lovely time. We were out Stokenchurch way where huge Kites swooped above us. We saw all manner of wildlife, a few dead rabbits, bouncing bunnies, dogs and chomping horses but best of all, we heard an owl! It was a stereotypical hoot that you might hear in a black and white horror film, it was fab. Quite what it was doing at three O'clock in the afternoon is anyone's guess. I thought they were nocturnal.

Today is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. I don't know about that, I'm feeling rather chipper. I dare say, Hallmark cards are behind it all. I should imagine if you enter Clintons next year there will be a display of greetings cards to mark the occassion. 'Don't be so sad, life aint so bad' or 'To my wife during this time of gloom' you know the sort of thing, there is bound to be one with that dreadful Ricky Gervais on the front as well - the thought makes me shudder.

Well you just can't win. Last night the telephone rang, on answering it a lady with a Scottish accent said she was from First Direct (my bank) and she was doing a customer service check-up and could I give her the first letter of my password.

I was about to reveal my secrets when a strange fear gripped me and I remembered the headline in my local newspaper about confidence tricksters calling people up, stealing intimate bank details then using them to finance drug and gun deals.

"No" I said "You tell me!" I told her just what I thought, "This is a con love, I know your game, it's all over the papers this lark"

She ensured me that it wasn't and that I was right to be wary etc, but I didn't give an inch. Lyn Falls-wood would have supported me in my efforts to stamp out crime.

Anyway, I phoned First Direct up after she had put the phone down, I spoke to a nice man who told me that they had indeed just phoned me. I asked him to pass on my apologise to the scottish girl.

I'm feeling rather depleted this morning. Each morning I have woken still needing another hour of sleep. It must be January. A much maligned month. I did have a bit of a perk up on the way to work. Symphony No.3 in C minor Opus 78 came on the radio which sent a shiver or two up my spine. Infact, at one point in my reverie I nearly came a cropper on the roundabout, I think I took it a bit wide.

Out for a nice long walk in Kite Country this weekend. Fingers crossed it will see off the fug in my head and tone my sagging gluteus maximus. We may get wind of a Wallaby. Apparently there have been sightings. My boots are made for walking and that's just what I'll do, with a nice box of sandwhiches and a bottle of Evian I shall suck up the good clean air like a Dyson. If anyone fancies a flash mob, I shall be the dumpy one in the cheap fleece.

Bit of a post meridian post but it's here! I've just returned from Tesco where a friend and I caused a rumpus at the tobacco/polo counter. We have started a lottery syndicate at work. There are just the two of us in it, which will make the piture of us holding a cheque in the local paper all the better in my mind. Atleast people will be able to make me out. I can't stand group photos in local newspapers. They are always a scrappy mess and if there are more than twelve people in it you can forget about recognising yourself.

Anyway, we had a spoilt paper and the girl had to fill in a new one for us, the queue behind us twitched and sighed with each additional hold up. In the end, after the girl had produced three wrong tickets, we came out with a head full of dreams and excitement. It's a roll over tonight, if I win I might be able to buy my campsite afterall!

On the subject of the Aurora Borealis, Carol Hatfield - the nicest American in the world, emailed me a link to a very sweet local newspaper in Pine City. Apparently it's a small town of about 2,000 people but what they lack in population they make up for in natural beauty! Fancy the aurora borealis on your doorstep, I know I do. Carol's seen the northern lights quite often. I hope I am lucky enough to see them once.

Astronomy has always held a fascination for me, but I am buggered how you make the shapes out of the stars. I'm pretty settled on Orien's Belt now, and the big dipper is easy but all the others are beyond me. To be honest, I think the moon is the nicest body in the heavens. We don't give it much thought these days. We must address this promptly. It's lovely dropping probes on Mars but I think we should start thinking inside of the box not out of it.

Cor blimey, it was hard to get out of bed this morning. I felt a bit like an over baked pizza stuck to the baking sheet. I had to use extreme force to prize my body from the mattress. I've come off it worse for wear aswell. This weekend has come and gone in a puff of smoked salmon and I'm back to work in an instant, the only thing faster from start to finish is a packet of Angel Delight.

I have had a rare old time though. Friday the Ladyfriend and I went for a mince around Windsor. We went to Windsor Farm Shop but didn't catch old Lizzie with a price gun - she must have been on her break.

On Saturday we went to Dan's party which was smashing. It was a toga/beach party and the Ladyfriend and I had a lovely time. Gorged myself at the buffet table again - I know no restraint. Ham baps have always been my downfall. Pictures of the night can be found here.

Yesterday, despite my protestations, we went for a walk with Mr C and Mr D around a Wildfowl reservoir on the River Thames. It was rather good. Came back caked in mud. I had to tuck my jeans into my socks and must have looked a little bit 'special' as I trundled around the waterside. I took some splendid photos which I may give to National Geographic.

An update on the birdtable: Since introducing some new food I have managed to attract more birds, I had two tits on Sunday. Finches would make my day.

Last night the Ladyfriend and I went to Dan's marvellous 18th birthday party - you can see the pictures if you clickwww.lifeforlola.co.uk/dansparty

Must dash - off for a winter wildlife ramble with Mr C and Mr D.

On the radio this morning in the car they played The Mission theme tune by Ennio Morricone. I was coming over the bridge which spans the M40 and I had time to look down on to the traffic below as it was a bit of a snarl up and I was quite moved. The music was stirring stuff and I thought to myself, there is beauty in all things.....especially when it's accompanied by the City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra.

Actually, I was a bit miffed. When I got to the London Road I let a young gent out. I saw him fiddle with his radio and as soon as he did gone was Grieg from my wireless and in was some kind of pirate drum and bass rubbish. This isn't the first time it's happened. The ladyfriend thinks it is a conspiracy to get us all to buy digital radios and she could be right....she's very rarely wrong.

Out with my Wonderful Mother last night to celebrate her birthday. We dined at the Crown at Penn which is relaxed and informal - which I rather like, especially midweek. It was a lovely evening and Smashing Matthew came along off the cuff. Smashing Matthew is in the process of making me an Aunty so all his foibles are brushed aside.

I am in relaxed excitement regarding the baby at the moment. I can see why relatives knit things during the gestation of children. It steadies the nerves. Sadly I can not knit because I don't know how to cast off, plus, my attention span is such, that the result would not be of any value. I might be able to manage a scrunchie.

The ladyfriend and I are off to Dan's party on Saturday (expect to see photos next week) I rather like fancy dress parties, this one is a toga do. The ladyfriend bought two single sheets to run up, I personally think she's being a little optimistic.........I think I might need a double.

"Why do the wrong people travel, travel, travel, when the right people stay back home?" So wrote Saint Noel Coward. I have to say I am in agreement with him. Watching GMTV this morning - the ladyfriend is still unemployed and in bed in the morning so I have free reign of the telly. I've stopped watching BBC1 because it's all grey and cold and all they talk about is Marks & Spencers - anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, on GMTV this morning was a mother and her daughter who were caught up in the Tsunami thing and the daughter was rescued by an elephant which is all very lovely and not the point I am trying to make. They were clearly born on the wrong side of the Lambert & Butler fag packet and sat there like stunned rabbits whilst they were being gently questioned about the event. I felt for Fiona as she tried to coax a coherent sentence from the young girl and the mother was just as bad.

Sitting there in my bed clothes, porridge on my lap, I was transported back to my own school days when come the new school year the common kids came back brown as berries because they had been to spain for their holidays. They still had necklaces and bracelets on which had been bought on some beach somewhere yet their uniform was always a bit tatty. Which sat awkward with me. They would sit there writing their names on their new school books (badly, for they were normally slightly remedial) and brag about being out on a pedlo. Something never even heard of in the Isle of Wight in 1980.

So it seems these days, the offspring of those children are off to exotic climes like Phuket, whilst a two week break in Kos is considered moribund! It makes me shudder. The ambassadors of this country being pikeys. It puts all the good work done by missionaries to shame. If they knew what was coming the heathens would have eaten them.

It seems the global warming thing is coming on a pace. It's sodden and Gomorrah up in Scotland and now they've got trouble in the Colonies. We are all doomed. Just as my snow globe of a life has started to settle it looks as though I might be drowned in my nightie. Oh please let it be quick.

I have a bit of a theory about the constant advice to drink more water to look beautiful and lose weight. I think it's funded by the Government. I reckon, by appealing to women's vanity they think they might stem the tide and keep London above water for a bit longer. Ofcourse, what goes in must come out, but I reckon a third of the fluid must become absorbed into the flesh and bones. So, if enough ladies (men rarely bother about their appearance - even the homosexual) drink 2 litres a day the UK will be ok for a bit longer. So, it will be women who save the planet afterall.

What we do need is a nice Victorian gentleman who will busy himself with an invention to pipe the excess to the moon using household waste and ladies hosiery but alas, this is the 21st Century and genius has left the planet - we can't even build a successful bridge across the Thames these days!

Sponsored today by the Church of England

I bought a book at the weekend. I've already read one this year "Toast" by Nigel Slater so I thought whilst the iron was hot I might try and read another. I read rather too many books as an angst ridden teenager and I don't know now if I feel any benefit - afterall, look what happened to Sylvia Plath anyway.

It's called Harlequin by Bernard Cornwall and in normal circumastances I wouldn't have bought it but I did, £1.50 it was, hard back. I don't normally like historical novels but as I am open to new things at this time of year I carried it home in a brown paper bag and do you know it's rather good? I am up to page 50 already.

It's all knights, medieval and battles and stuff fit to bursting with testosterone - one could almost get pregnant from reading the prologue - but I intend to read the lot.

One thing I have been thinking this weekend - after watching a nasty programme about global warming - is how progress has made us worry about death. In my historical novel people die left, right and centre and they know they will be off to heaven and don't seem too concerned. The modern world has poured scorn on God, questioned creation and is now in a right old pickle about our imminent departure. I reckon we should all take stock, recycle ofcourse, switch to green energy suppliers, switch off the microscope and start going to church/temples/mosques. I do believe we are in the midst of a dark age and if we don't get spiritual life as we know it won't be all that worth living.

I'm just chomping my way through a handful on mixed nuts. I've just eaten the oddest shaped cashew. It was longer than I have been used to, elongated and gnarled. I frowned but still shovelled it in. I am very trusting of nuts. I expect them to be, like people I suppose, individual and different. It's a bit like foreign travel, paying a Polish taxi driver whatever he asks for because the language barrier is such that it's best just to shove a note in his hands and hope that it's enough.

It's the only food I think I would just trust to be what it suggests it is. I don't think I'd buy a pork chop if it was twisted and swollen in its packet. No, I think we should expect a certain uniformity when it comes to body parts. Nuts, however, can have free reign

On the way to work this morning I thought I saw that Jon Bon Jovi man attempting to execute a tricky manoeuvre in rush hour traffic. I don't suppose it was him for an instant - I am trying to stop spotting household names and celebrities in public. The first step on the road to recovery from mental disease is to deny the existence of Sue Pollard by the pic 'n' mix in Woolworths.

I shall put it down to not sleeping well this week, the mind plays tricks when one is tired. I shall prepare myself a Horlicks tonight (which, by the way, has become suddenly trendy) and I shall hopefully float off like an untied boat sinisterly let loose by the harbourside.

The Ladyfriend and I were both reminiscing the other night about the joy of being carried to bed as children. I don't think there is a nicer feeling than that of being lifted up, tossed over a shoulder by your dad and then seeing the stairs below out of fuzzy eyes. Oh the nostalgia.......still, when I become aged I shall get myself a stanna stairlift and recreate the feeling.

To IKEA last night, decided against the meatballs and plumped for a kind of prawn cous cous affair. It was very nice. My partner had the fish which looked a bit iffy to me. I like IKEA on a week day evening. I feel rather 'European' and think in metres and kilos not pounds and ounces. I like the feeling that the 'Arsol' lamp I might purchase is quite possibly on a bed side table in Dusseldorf. I also like picking things up then dumping them near the checkout when I realise that I don't really need any more nic nacs.

The ladyfriend said this morning that she thinks the Government might have a hand in IKEA because it gives the people an artificial feeling of drugged happiness. I personally think it's high time she got out and got a job. Her sitting at home with time on her hands has turned her into some kind of embryonic philosopher - which is the last thing I need. I certainly do not intend to bank roll a coffee culture lifestyle even if I could grow to love her with a goatee beard.

Back at work after a rather gluttonous break, I don't know what is worse - the amount I consume or the lack of will power. The Ladyfriend and I went for a keep fit trek along the seafront on Sunday from the pier to Sovereign Harbour. It was quite a bracing walk and I felt the pounds slither off my belly with every step. However, when we turned up at the millionaires playground, a warming coffee in the Italian Restaurant turned into pizza and beer! All that effort down the pan. So I sit here now lardy and full of remorse. My new year's resolutions at the moment are: I intend to get fit, I will take up Yoga, Italian, wine appreciation and photography. This time next year I will be able to order my ciabatta in the lotus position.

Re: The tsunami. The ladyfriend said something rather profound on Sunday after the Archbishop of Canterbury questioned the existence of God she turned to me and said 'I think it is God questioning the existence of Man' - she's rather deep sometimes.

For the first time in my life I have actually had enough of Christmas. I don't know if it is the sheer quantity of fine wine, cheese and chocolate or perhaps the baubles, decorated houses and crap telly but I am ready to put the tree to the axe. It's very out of character but I have gone off it all. It feels like a house guest whose company you have enjoyed but now you would quite like to leave and wave off in their car. It's not even New Year's Eve (a night I have never really enjoyed) and I feel like this. The ladyfriend say's it's an age thing and I will have to agree, as each year passes my excitement dulls....this year I didn't even bother to make a Christmas cake.

Just one last thing and I know it's terrible and I thank God it hasn't happened in Eastbourne etc but one thing that has struck me about the holiday makers I've seen fleeing Thailand is that they are all a bit common. Is Phuket the new Benidorm?

I'm on a bit of break myself at the moment so posting will be a bit patchy...just aswell given the sensitive nature of the last comment...I will ofcourse be making a donation to the relief fund.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping on your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos.

Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,
Help to make the season bright.
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.

They know that Santa's on his way;
He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh.
And every mother's child is going to spy,
To see if reindeer really know how to fly.

And so I'm offering this simple phrase,
To kids from one to ninety-two,
Although its been said many times, many ways,
A very Merry Christmas to you

I yelled out with pleasure this morning whilst watching the GMTV weather girl throw all caution to the wind to insure me that it is going to be a white Christmas. I nearly splattered my porridge onto the wall such was my delight.

Ofcourse I switched over to BBC1 and they wouldn't commit themselves, miserable swines. Infact, as soon as I changed the channel, all the light in the room suddenly disappeared. Miserable, miserable BBC. I really do not know what they do with my money - they certainly don't spend it on lighting.

I took to my room last night because there was sod all on tv. I don't expect much from the commercial channels but in the love of the new born Baby Jesus why 'Celebrity Come Dancing'? Bring on pay for view television and sink Broadcasting Bloody Crap - last straw for me, by the way, was the news they were cementing over the Blue Peter sunken garden.

Whilst on the subject, Chicago, why has this tawdry musical become the natural progression for C list celebrities after appearing on one of these bastard reality tv spectacles? When it opened there were real stars in it Ute Lemper and Ruthie Henshall - even Alison Moyet trod the boards (all beit slowly). Now every two bit soap actress and news reader gets a crack at it - and dosey welsh film stars come to think of it.

Something that I have always pondered. What happens to the people on the front of Mills & Boon novels? Do they ever 'make it'in the big time? Do they go on to bigger and better things? Or are they forever known as the Mills & Boon girl? Much worse, I suppose, are the models who get a gig doing the cover of a novel which goes on to sell squillions, especially those black covered thrillers with the gold embossed writing. They're buggered. The woman surely gets spotted at the checkout as the poor lass who was bound and gagged and kept alive in a Sherman tank by a derranged psychopath, with nothing but a packet of maltesers to munch on.

No, best stay away from book jackets if you want success in showbiz, go down the usual route of chumming up with a rich producer. Personally the limelight has never appealed to me so I could quite happily pose for romantic novels, I think I have a certain appeal....my hair has always been a feature.

I must just say I am the happiest Christmas bunny this morning, Carol Hatfield - the nicest American in the world - has sent me the Albert Finney 'Scrooge' DVD! I am so delighted! Cheers Carol!

The ladyfriend and I, in an act of seasonal charity, went to Stokenchurch on Sunday to the Dog Rescue home for unwanted dogs. They run a thing there where you can turn up at an allocated hour and take one of their dogs for a walk. I've always wanted to do it and as the Ladyfriend does what's she's told so we went along.

We filled out the necessary forms and then waited in the courtyard for our dog to come along. Huge Alsations, Rottweillers and Labradors came out, they all jumped up at the volunteer walker in excitement. "Goodness" I thought, perhaps we had bitten off more than we could chew!

Then our number was called out and this little ball of cotton wool with legs came tearing around the corner. His name is Pippin, he doesn't like men and we were not to touch his belly, no matter how tempting it was. The poor thing had already been re-homed twice but was back in the slammer for bad behaviour. He was fabulous, the first thing he did was roll over on his back and produce his tummy. When he'd had enough of the walk he sat down then ran back to the home. I think he wanted to watch EastEnders because he wouldn't stop for anyone, not even a lamp post.

To Earls Court on Saturday to see Morrissey. It was my first opportunity to see the man who graced every inch of my bedroom wall in my youth - even on the light switch. I must say the years have been kind to him. I don't know that I would be quite so keen to have a twenty foot screen show pictures of my movements to the people in the cheap seats and I consider myself a fresh young beauty.

The audience were very well behaved, mind you, most of them turned up in MPV's and Volvos. Queues were orderley and there was no shoving and pushing to my relief. I've gone off concerts these days, I find them rather loud - thankfully, my ears have not yet recovered from Easy Jet so I found the volume quite comfortable.

Morrissey was brilliant, he sang lots of old Smiths songs and I was thrilled. There were a few dull bits as the new LP is a bit lost on me. I've put this down to my flirtation with the right but I dare say I am not alone - I should imagine there were a goodly sprinkle of like minded individuals bobbing up and down to "Shoplifters of the world unite" singing along, but in the back of their minds was how they were going to decorate the sitting room in their second home in Hampshire.

I stood there thinking of little Lola and how she would have loved it. I regressed into a fifteen year old depressive, sitting in her bedroom with a slim volume of Blake's verse listening to Meat is Murder with a cup of tea and a frown on her face. Sadly she is lost now, under layers of skin and years of compliance and, like the Titanic laying on the seabed, I shall never be able to pull her back.

The world is that much a less beautiful place today because my mate Ray has gone. Ray was the bees knees, the snap in a cracker, the top of the morning, the lid on the biscuit tin and the end of every rainbow. What a sad life indeed not to have known Ray.

It seems my little meteorite isn't so, I have just received this email back from the Astronomical Society:
Dear Lola,
I've recently been passed your message and image from the BAA Office. The small rock pictured look to me like a nodule of terrestrial iron with various other bits and pieces (probably pyrites), and certainly not - unfortunately - akin to anything meteoritic. This sort of material is quite common in the Sussex Downs/chalk, and presumably ended up on Eastbourne beach as a result of erosion somewhere down the line.

Finds of meteorites are exceedingly rare, especially in the wet
(corrosive!) climate of the British Isles. Most discoveries of meteorites which have been lying on the surface come from arid regions of the world - the Nullabor Plain in Australia and the Sahara desert are good sources, along wth the ice-ablation regions in Antarctica.

Sorry I have to reply in the negative as to whether the object is a meteorite, but I hope that you'll still find it an interesting souvenir of your stroll on Eastbourne beach!
Best wishes,
Neil Bone

Director, British Astronomical Association Meteor Section

I look a day over 34 today. It was my birthday yesterday and I was jolly lucky to receive a cornucopia of gifts which I opened with glee yet polite reservation - it doesn't look good, a girl of my age, sitting up in bed ripping wrapping paper in haste. I was very grateful for my gifts - especially a stripey scarf from Karen which is now part of my capsule wardrobe which I intend to match all my outfits to.

I also got Nigella's book "Feast" which, like the girl herself, is large, chunky and beautiful photographed. I look forward to doing bang bang turkey this Christmas.

A call from the ladyfriend this morning has confirmed my suspicion that a Pheasant has landed in the garden. I heard its distinctive voice whilst in the bath this morning. I ran to a window awash with steam but couldn't see a thing and went back to my strip wash. The ladyfriend however, now has it in her sights so it looks like game for the table afterall!

Oh dear...one too many light ales at the club last night and I'm feeling a little inertia. I woke at 5am and tossed and turned but failed to slumber. Peculiar notions ran through my head, old memories tossed up on the shoreline of my mind. One favourable one was when I pulled a sledge home in the winter. The sky was dark yet the earth was lit by the white of the snow. I must have been around 12 years of age yet I remember it vividly. I wonder what it is that decides what days we keep and which ones we discard until the dreaded onslaught of alzheimer's?

Another thought I had came to me as I heard the birds sing their timeless tune. I noted how it never changes, though the centuries pass, wars, plague, famine and teenybopper pin-ups come and go, the birds still sing the same tune at the same time. Infact, the world spins, the sun and the moon do their thing and the birds join in - there is nothing inbetween. There is nothing here but a blackhole of time.

Stay out of the pubs, the clubs and the BHS restaurant - there is plague afoot. My Wonderful Mother telephoned me this morning and I am shocked to discover that a terrible malady has taken half her village. To quote the local chemist "if this keeps up we shall run out of imodium." I am glad I am heading off to Eastbourne this weekend. Hopefully the sea air will act like a bottle of Miltons.

Christmas tree will be going up on Friday, I dare say the garden centres will be swarming with snotty kids dressed like prostitutes. I am ready to embrace the season and therefore will pay no heed. Children terrify me these days, I feel vunerable in their presence. Talking of presents, Lola turns 34 on Sunday, God bless my jaded soul.

Last night the ladyfriend and I watched our favourite production of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol". It was infact the musical version which, for the benefit of the Americans no doubt, is called "Scrooge". I love it, the score is fabulous. I will have to get a copy of it on DVD as the VHS is becoming rather 'Victorian' in quality! I have just learned that Tiny Tim, Bob Cratchit's ailing son , suffered from a kidney disease that made his blood too acidic. Tim's symptoms would have been treated with alkaline solutions which would counteract the excess acid in his blood and recovery would be rapid....all down to Scrooge's new-found generosity.

Hooray! The day has been iced with the finest of sugar as I have just booked two tickets for Eddi Reader in April. It is a long way to wait, but the way the world turns so swiftly I dare say it will whip round quicker than Cynthia Payne's cat 'o' nine tails.

It's the big one next week ofcourse, Morrissey at Earls Court. I dare say I won't be able to see a thing as it's standing room only and I am sure to be crushed by the tall and more able.......I'm not keen on the new album anyway.

I feel like a little lost soldier today as I have been moved into a different office where I work. I am still doing the same job but it is now amongst very odd people. I feel as though I have started a new school and don't know where the toilets are. One saving grace is that my hours have now changed and I shall be picked up by the ladyfriend at 6, fresh with tales of the day. It wouldn't be so bad but, due to sleazy jet and their peculiar air pressure policy, I have a sensation of deafness in my left ear, I feel a bit muffled. Add to that my spot of debauchery - a zit which has appeared after the wine, women and song of Spain - I'm not feeling so peachy.

Back in Blighty now and recovering from a mini-break of excess. We had a fabulous time in Spain mingling with the expat community. When we went to a party the English people we spoke to all came from within a spit of where we live, it was quite a coincidence. Picolo mondo.

The highlight of our stay, however, was a cross dressing South Pacific evening where the ladyfriend and I went as sailors. You can see the pictures if you click here. I must warn you that all of the movies may not work as I got bored of uploading them on a dial up connection.

The picture above,by the way, is an object of mystery. I want to get on to NASA about it. The Ladyfriend found it on the beach in the summer and we think it may be a metorite. I want to have it confirmed as it sits in my dish of shells in the bedroom and if it is out of this world it may be giving off untold radiation.

i am at luton airport on a phone boc internet thing on the ladyfriends birthday waiting to go to spain ...... isn;t progress fabulous - i cant find an apostrophe though

Getting ready for work this morning I saw that the ladyfriend had put out socks for me to wear. I must stress this is not an everyday occurence but has had to come into force this week as we are going on our mini-break to Malaga at the weekend. The ladyfriend is in charge of packing and has taken on this role ever since I took up with the gal. She has thus worked out what I can and can't wear so we have clothes clean and pressed for the trip. I have to let her know my sartorial selection in advance.

As this has been going on for four years now it struck me that I have lost the ability to do my own packing. It's almost like one of those languages that a small tribe in South America have used for centuries but due to modern influence has slowly died out. Will I ever be able to think ahead or fold a shirt neatly ever again? I don't think I could.

Call me suspicious but what do you expect? The woman has had that tinker Tabby in the house casing the joint for the last month. She should be lucky her drive hasn't been badly tarmacced aswell! You can take the boy out of Ireland......

My handsome big brother is flying off to New York today. What a jet set life we all lead these days. I've asked him to bring me something back ofcourse, I don't know what. The novelty of having something that one can't buy oneself is still very great with me. it can be quite ruinous though. When I am in the supermarkets of europe I often buy stuff just because of the funny writing regardless of contents. Not for me fine perfume, lace or chocolates no, I prefer bubble bath with silly names, tins of milk with strange kids on and jars of marinated kippers.

Oil stocks have hit an all time low. After doing a bumper tray of roasted seasonal vegetables on Sunday I've now only got enough to drizzle on a nun's middle finger....dire straights indeed! Thank goodness the ladyfriend and I are off to Spain on Saturday! Una paloma blanca, I'm just a bird in the sky! I shall be bulk buying in Carrefour, a trolley piled high with oily tins of the stuff (after using the contents I like to wash them out and using them as attractive kitchen ornaments....trust me, it's nice) I may squeeze a few bottles of vino tinto in aswell although it's a bit naughty after my recent seige of Calais.

I must say I completely agree with Prince Charles. The ladyfriend and I both exclaimed outloud 'at last, someone has the guts to say it' as we read the morning newspapers last week. People do seem to think they can do anything, the ladyfriend and I are fortunate in that we know our limitations. I've pulled my hair out at the attitude of people who have been to university who swan about applying for jobs with such unbelievable confidence even though they are clearly unqualified. Or people who can hold a tune, look like the back end of a bus but truly think they are the next Rosemary Clooney. The conversations I've had to endure with folk telling me they are going to do this or that - fantastical aspirations! Where has the humility gone? Why have our young stopped wanting to be nurses, firemen and train drivers? We are deluding our children like pushy showbiz mothers and it will all end in tears.

The ladyfriend and I are having to compile Christmas lists. I have cause for concern. I think I might be a bit grabby.....I just want so much. I want a kite, the new Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver book, a frying pan, a chinese mandolin (with safety guard), a fossil hunting hammer, clinique simply perfume, the new kd lang and Rufus Wainwright cd, a bird bath, socks, scarf, mittens and wellington boots (size 7).

The ladyfriend wants nothing. I had to interrogate her in a Lindy England style and still it was like pulling teeth.

Last night the ladyfriend and I took a trip to the new gastropub in Wooburn. It was pleasantly lit and tastefully decorated - wasn't keen on the carpet mind. I chose the lamb shank and my partner the pork. It tasted lovely and I was stuffed. The chef came out to see us and his persuasive nature made us choose something from the sweet trolley. I had the most amazing Bailey's Creme Brulee. In actual fact, I think I consumed a months worth of calories in one sitting last night. I lay in bed last night feeling like a beer barrel with legs.
The ladyfriend and I were very impressed with the place which has retained a couple of their 'regulars' from the pub's former incarnation. My favourite in particular, was a pissed old soldier in his army blazer who walked through the dining room several times. He seemed to know the Ladyfriend....

This weekend I have been the victim of outside forces. On Friday I looked at my bank account online and to my horror saw that I was £85 overdrawn. I am a bit of a Viv Nicholson so I wasn't that surprised until I clicked to view a more detailed statement. There were 27 payments of £3 going out over two days. I was a little stunned. 'what have I done?' I thought. I rang the bank immediately, what lovely people First Direct are. They froze my account, I had been a victim of fraud! The little bit of paper I signed somewhere had fallen into the wrong hands. I've narrowed it down to a restaurant in Lewes or the petrol station in Eastbourne but either way, from now on I deal in cash.

On Saturday the ladyfriend and I were on our way home to attend a function in High Wycombe. Our journey along the A22 went swimmingly. As we approached the M25 we were taken a back at the number of arctic lorries going in the opposite direction. We soon realised when we clicked on the tranny that there had been a nasty accident. We were stuck for hours, we eventually limped home four hours after setting out, terribly tired and grumpy. It spoilt the night. We missed the function due to a lorry driver's decision. It's the butterfly in the jungle.

Yesterday was lovely. We went to the Country Living Christmas Fayre with my Wonderful Mother and Super Step Dad. The ladyfriend and I got a bit squiffy with a wine tasting lecture, nibbled on bits of cheese and dipped our fingers in balsamic vinegar. It was an exceptional day out.

The ladyfriend and I are in a state of contented excitement. A local pub which was once all a bit 'spit and sawdust' has had a makeover, changed it's name and is doing music and relaxed dining. We can't wait to go there. We have several weekend commitments but we've worked out that we'll be able to squeeze a sherry in on Sunday before evensong.

It's all down to the yuppies moving in and stealing our pavements with their Chelsea Tractors but in this case I've decided to make an exception. I've longed all my life to have a 'local', a place where everyone knows my name. Somewhere I can call in and have a stiff one after work, play for their shove happeny team.....although I doubt it's that kind of establishment. It's one of the reasons the WI has always appealed.

I daresay all my illusions will be shattered on Sunday. The menu will probably be pacific rim, they won't do draught and the fireside seats will be taken by women who look like Nigella Lawson without the charm.

This morning I came to the stark realisation that I need to shell out for some new bras. My favourites are in the wash and so I was scrambling around in my delicates draw trying to find a suitable hoist. You should have seen me.....well, I'm glad you didn't as I reminded myself of a snatch weightlifter.

I lent over and guided myself into the long unused cups, steadied my feet, mentally prepared myself and then, with a huge 'snatch and grab', I stood upright. The room span a bit as I tried to do the contraption up but it was no use, like the weightlifter who has taken on too much I dropped the mammaries and the bra went crashing to the floor.

I have decided to boost M&S profits this weekend and buy up the lingerie department.

A peculiar shift has taken place. For many years I was proud of my cynism. I would snear and gafaw at displays of sentiment. I was well known for my dislike of the fridge magnet. But suddenly, I know not how, but I have become a bit of a slush puppy. Last Friday, I was brought to tears whilst watching This Morning of all things. Yesterday the ladyfriend was reading a verse on a calendar she received free with Woman and Home magazine. She laughed at the ludicrous quote but I thought 'aaah, how nice'. I don't know what's happened but somehow I have projected all my hate onto the ladyfriend. She was once pure, like a lily, but she is now shrivelled with pessimism. Like a Miss Haversham ...."In isolation the greatest sin we commit against ourselves and others, is to shun human companionship".....absolutely!

I was filling the car up with petrol this morning and thought 'blast', each time I go to the pumps it is my intention to cover my hand in someway so I don't have to hold something next to my skin that thousands of other people have held. It makes me feel violated for days. The numbers had raced up to £3.00 + before I remembered the need for protection.

My right hand is now swarming with microscopic bacteria, dna and faint odour. The study of which would make a diverting documentary. Scientists would find traces of boy racer, murderer, librarian and taxi driver.......I could, in effect, have the whole world in my hands.

Back on the subject of the American Election, I saw a bible belt Christian on the tv this morning talking about his vote for Bush. When asked about the huge turnout of anti-gay, pro-life electorate he said, "The religious voter is the right voter because the religious make the best decisions."

I've heard old Tony Blair is turning toward the Catholic church, with queer bashing returning to the streets of London the world has become a more dangerous place this week.

The result of the American election is truly terrifying and has put me in mood indigo. It's staggering to think that half of America is populated by intelligent, sentient beings and the other are brainless fools who think George Bush is the Messiah. I'm worried living in England, I can't imagine the disbelief being felt in America.

Just wait and see, after Iraq he'll invade Iran and wont stop there. I'd be worried in Ireland......he's clearly going through alphabet.

I can't stop consuming. Last night I knocked up a warm chicken and bacon salad with olives, sun-dried tomatoes etc (very continental) It was a large salad, with it I ate 3/4 of a toasted ciabatta and half a bottle of red wine. I didn't rest there. I also chomped on two christmas mince pies! Whilst typing this I am eating a smoked salmon salad..... I don't know what it can be. Maybe the cold snap really is coming and I'm laying down fat in preperation.........by the looks of it it's going to be a long arduous winter.

America are going to the poles, I was watching the news and they were lining up in the name of democracy. The queues were snaking for yards and yards. I don't think I could wait that long to cast my vote. I've heard rumbles that we will be having an early election. I'm not happy with Labour, they've become a bit of a menace to society, especially that Harriet Harman she always looks like someone you'd see infront of you at Tesco packing offal into her bag, ruddy faced with a gold chain poking out of her poloneck. I like my MPs to have an other worldliness about them.....like Robin Cook, Glenda Jackson and Michael Heseltine. Not Harriet, she looks like a stay-at-home mum with issues. Not someone you want making life altering decisions.

On Saturday I crossed the channel and landed at calais, what a miserable, disagreable little place. A town where the friendly bombs had fallen on its desolute land. Oh but the French are a hideous race. I have not met such an unfriendly and unwelcome people. Their road signs are a menace and the people who run the docks should be locked up. I wont mention the war but I'm not surprised is all I'll say. It's a big vote of NO from me when/if a referendum ever comes.

I did manage to stock up handsomely with wine and mustard though. Clive's car was rattling like a milk float all the way home from Dover. It has been put aside for a cheery Christmas.....a cheery Christmas indeed!!!

By the way, thanks to Danni and Steph for three new pictures of Lucy's party.

I've got that care free feeling only associated with the day before you have a day off work. Yes, instead of mashing about for an international corporation tomorrow I shall be swanning about the home counties with time and tide at my own disposal. Wonderful indeed. Infact, I am rather uplifted at the moment as I have found something special on the internet which I have been watching with shock and awe at its beauty - click here if you don't believe me!

I have quite a nice few days ahead of me. Tomorrow we have already discussed, Friday I am treating my mother to a day trip to the south coast, Saturday I'll be down Dover docks and over to France to stock up on scent, wine and stockings and Sunday I will attempt to plant bulbs in the garden. I do like to fill the dismal days of a decaying year........click here for Autumnal pictures by the way

Last night the ladyfriend and I cracked open a bottle of fizz to celebrate the ladyfriend's redundancy package. It was a bit of a perverse thing to do in a way, but smile in the face of adversity........and at the prospect of laptops, foreign holidays, premium bonds and trinkets and gems which are now affordable.

It is a rather nice windfall which brings me on to my next subject - Autumn. On Sunday we went out with Mr C, Mr D and Missy Caution (a lady of oriental origin) for an autumnal ramble. It was a riot of colour and I managed to try out my new camera. I took a number of artistic shots, left the lens cap on several times and also used the movie setting to great effect. When I've sorted the pics out you will be able to breathe in the atmosphere of decay and hear the scrunch of leaf underfoot yourselves. Pictured above is the ladyfriend and I admiring finds from the forrest floor!

Bit of a late entry today, I have been busy sorting out the pictures from Lucy's Dinner and Dance on Saturday night. It was indeed enormous fun and I have to admit that I drank enough liquor to sedate a small elephant. You can see the pictures from the night if you click here It was 70's fancy dress.......oh, and I'm Demis Roussos.

I've not been terribly well. For the last two days I have taken to my bed and have been watching Murder She Wrote, Doctors and Flog It. I can't say it's been a delight but I have learned a lot about Denby pottery and Celiac disease.

I must get back to my best, I have Lucy's birthday party to attend, the garden to put to bed and a restorative autumn ramble to execute. I am fully booked up.......which is the very thing that has got me into my malaise to begin with.

Strange things are a foot. Last weekend I took some photographs on Eastbourne Pier of the ladyfriend and her mother. Hovering above their shoulders was an orb. I have read about such things on the internet and the general consensus is that they are paranormal - see this website. At the weekend the ladyfriend and I went for a walk in Alfriston Forrest and I took my camera with me. I took a photo of some trees and later at home on the computer was delighted to see lots of these little orbs. Infact one of them looked like a fairy in flight!

I uploaded the original of this picture to show my friend Clive who is earnestly open minded on these matters but I have just looked and something went wrong with the uploading. I think the magical fairy kingdom has intervened and thrown a fairy spanner into the works. It is a shame indeed. If you would like to look at the photos of the walk click here There is a small version of the picture middle bottom. I will endeavour to get the original as soon as possible. You will be shocked I am sure!

Happy Birthday! Lola is two years old!!!

It's going to be a wet playtime today. I was sat up in bed this morning admiring the pre-dawn darkness when I was taken aback by a big roll of thunder. I never saw it coming. On the way to work the dullness made the bulbs in people's houses all the more warm and inviting. As we drove passed the Inns and Public Houses, the lights of the morning cleaners emptying ashtrays and mopping up dribble made me happy. There is delight indeed in a downpour.

I realise now, after watching Alan Titchmarsh last night that I am sitting in a valley carved out by glacial melt water. How tremendous. It's certainly rocking my raft. I think I'd quite like to do an open university course in geology. It's never too late. Age is no barrier to education.

Late entry today, I've been a bit busy. I have managed to book myself passage on the Pride of Calais heading for France on the 30th October. What fun. A booze cruise ready for Winter. The ladyfriend and I are going to stock up on Sherry and Shiraz to tide us over the cold, dark hours when the wind rattle the panes and the glow of the electric fire reflects on the photo frames of family and friends.

I'm feeling a bit provincial today. I don't know if it's the weather but I'm feeling rather nondescript. I don't feel capable of great things. It's one of those days when I'll be quite happy to get through it with just the odd scratch or bruise. I think I'd rather be home with my feet up watching Tricia.

This global warming business is a bit of a letdown. I'd always hoped I'd live my life on earth unaffected by catastrophic events. I Managed to miss the Great War, Great fire of London and the Black Death. I'd rather hoped I'd shuffle along without losing a limb or my marbles, now it looks like I'm going to drown by the rising tide or get blown off the pier.

Last night I blessed the bump of my unborn niece or nephew. I am incredibly excited about becoming an aunt. I intend to guide the child along the correct path of life and fill its head with nonsense. I can't wait for the wee one to come to stay at Eastbourne, build sandcastles with paper flags, gaze in wonder at rock pools and scream when a seagull pinches its chips. I have worked out that I shall be about 39 when the kiddy is 5 so I shall still be quite agile and able to offer piggy backs and the like. I have until May to enrol in Aunty school.

Talking of childhood, I recently visited Chalfont St. Peter where I grew up. I went to look at my favourite trees on the common where I would play. I took some pictures which are here. I climbed my favourite trees which had grown bigger in the last 25 years. It was odd really as when I was a youngster they were big and tricky to climb and all these years on they were bigger still.......weird.

This weekend the ladyfriend and I went all other the place, Lewes, Hasting, Battle. When we got to Battle they were having a huge reinactment of the Battle of Hastings as it was the anniversary. It was £8 to get in and we couldn't run to it so I am going to save my pennies for next year instead. Click here for pictures

On the way to work this morning the ladyfriend and I saw the sinister twins again. They are two schoolgirls and they dress like scrubbers. They look identical and they both have identical expressionless faces. It puts the willies up you when they wait at the pedestrian crossing. I bet they are feared by the knowing in the street where they live. "Don't look in their eyes" the old people must cry as the girls stand outside their bungalows. I bet the neighbourhood pigs sweat and the milk turns bad as they run errands for their mother.

Had a bit too much garlic last night at Mr C and Mr D's. It was a lovely dip and I must admit to letting greed take hold of me, a sinful sight and one I am ashamed of, especially as the house was not my own. My appetite sometimes lets me down in the company of others.

A beautiful new day. A wonderful world. Two birds having a laugh on my bird table. The paper shop opening late as the owner is away leaving his elderly father in charge of the shop. An avenue full of pensioners who run their lives like clockwork thrown into mayhem because the Daily Mirror isn't in their hands at 7.45am

Kids smashing trees with big sticks to get conkers. People planning leaving do's as they leave their jobs. Flowers on my desk just about to 'go over'. My wonderful mother trying on clothes bought in haste which she might take back to the shop. Milk running out in the fridge. A nice man called Tom phoning me to help him with something on the work website. Listening to Rufus Wainwright. Emailing Clive about tonight. Laughing atleast three times. Singing Elkie Brooks whilst making tea.

Baby cried the day the circus came to town
'Cause she didn't want parades just passing by her
So she painted on a smile
And took up with some clown
While she danced without a net upon the wire
I know a lot about her
'Cause you see
Baby is an awful lot like me

And it's not even lunchtime.

It's silly season for Lola, I have little or no news. The ladyfriend is under the threat of redundancy and is in a state of flux. I can do little more than offer a supporting arm as she rides out the many mood swings resulting from it all. Never mind, this time next year she will be firmly ensconced in a new job - one with less stress, sociable hours and better air quality. I've put her name down for the local colliery.

I'm going to end up moving departments and because of this have to wear 'smart clothes'. It's a denim no go area so it's off to New Look for a pair of slacks and a capsule wardrobe. It would be nice if I could wear pirate clothes. Captain Hook stuff. Wouldn't it be nice if you could do that? It's smart, a lovely ruffled shirt and velvet coat. I'd like to see them pull me up on it, the european court would give them short shrift.

I have not written for a couple of days as I have become rather anti-technology. The internet has got on my nerves rather. I love it because of the wealth of information that is available but at the same time I miss life before it. Remember when you used to have to phone or write for details? When shopping used to involve standing up, walking and interacting with people? Booking a holiday involved flicking through brochures, folding pages at the corners and visiting a travel agent. Bank details were a mystery until your monthly statement arrived. News was read in newspapers, pornography was on the top shelf, you heard from friends through a telephone or through the post.

It's a double edged sword, the stuff you can do now was unthinkable before it but I feel we are at risk of being tangled in the web. P&O are shedding staff because we are all jetting off on cheap airlines. Thomas Cook are cutting back because we are doing it ourselves. What price progress?

I want telephones to "tring, tring" in the privacy of homes not burst into Britney Spears in Homebase. I want typing to involve ribbons, writing to involve pens, greetings to involve cards and stamps not some daft lunatic cartoon in Outlook Express. I want shopping to involve more than one vast aircraft carrier of a shop. I don't want to press a red button to go interactive. I want meat that's unloaded with growth hormones. Vegetables to travel from Kent not New Zealand. Baseball caps worn by Americans, sportswear worn by people doing something athletic, a football player's wages to be similar to the number on the back of their shirt. I want a ban on microwave ovens, call centres, mobile telephone masts, incinerators, women driving their kids to school AND last but not least, computers.