Why BBC, Why?

I've decided to put fingers to keyboard because yet again the BBC have let me down. I look forward to the Christmas edition of the Radio Times, ok it's the only edition that I buy so you couldn't call me an avid reader by any stretch of the imagination but none the less...Anyway, so the Christmas edition features in the warm glow of my festive fiesta. So imagine my horror when I scanned the shelves for it at the Co-Op. I couldn't see it, it was there but it was the lost in the blur of TV Chat, Not on your nelly telly and the council house favourite The TV Times. Why was it lost? Because they've dropped the beautiful illustration that they used to have. It used to stand out as a bastion of good taste. Gone is the hand painted jolly Christmas scene, in its place is bloody Wallace and Grommit, they may well have replaced it with a picture of Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand. A knife through my heart.

Life for Lola has jumped the shark

SUMMER ART FESTIVAL

The Life For Lola 2thousand&8 festival is here! It's flowing along nicely now we've removed the blockage.

Interlude

We need some time apart, it's not you it's me.

I've decided I don't much like the computer and the internet. It makes concert tickets too expensive and takes so much of my time. Mobile phones are just as bad. Once upon a time you would look at the doormat in the morning, shrug your shoulders because there were no letters and get on with the day. Now you have to check hotmail, facebook and your mobile phone, it's relentless.
Also, I long to see the written word, now that every home has a pc you no longer see handmade "LOST" posters for family pets, these days they are printed up in Arial 16pt bold. I'm even mourning the traditional "bingo tonite!" day glo pub poster - long gone I'm afraid.
I dig Mr Gutenburg but in his own way he created a monster. Let's have a bit more Parker and a little less Microsoft please!

For once I am inclined to believe Withnail is right - we are indeed drifting into the arena of the unwell

I don't think all is right with the world. Watching the news these days I am filled with the same feeling of that before a big storm you know the sort of thing. I long for the days of Pimms and the sound of leather on willow but these days it's water with gender bending chemicals coming out of my tap, spitting football players and knife wielding toddlers. I'm tired of thinking about it all let alone typing it here. I'm going on holiday in a couple of weeks, I am hoping I shall come back with lots to say but I've got my doubts.

Elephant Fly

Wow, I've just seen the new Conran bathroom collection for Tchibo and it's amazing. Ofcourse, one would have to see it in the flesh but that family have got the Midas touch and their fingers in many a pie. What a fabulous gene pool. They have turned something so loathsome as a lavatory brush into something you'd want to cuddle in bed. I foresee empty shelves and carnage on a scale of Stella McCartney at H&M.

Yellow Rose of Texas

One of my favourite films like 'EVER' is Local Hero which I will quickly explain is about an American Oil company trying to buy a slice of Scotland for their evil doing. The village of Furness is part of their plans and the villagers are jumping for joy about the huge amounts of cash they're going to get! All goes well until Ben, who owns and lives on the beach, wont budge.
This morning, I was watching the telly and it was almost as if life was imitating art as I watched the report that Mr Trump was trying to build a crazy golf course up there! What was more remarkable was that he looks a bit like Burt Lancaster, is he taking the piss? Time for a DVD re-release me thinks to cash in.

Truth is I've dried. Can't think of a word to say. For the last six years I've had no trouble yarping on about this and that but just lately I've been hard pushed to type an email. Let's all enjoy the silence shall we, for just a bit.
For those who need a fix I can point you in this direction: http://flamingnora.blogspot.com/

Oooh ah just a little bit

Things have been a little bit Mr and Mrs Hectic for me recently, there's the art festival to organise ofcourse (Miriam has buggered off on a fact finding mission to Paris - or so she tells me) so I've been left saying 'hit, miss or maybe' with a mass of contributions (I think we may have to raise the bar next year). On top of that I'm trying to hold down a full time job and ofcourse there's my charity work.
I'm kicking back now listening to the Eurythmics 'Savage' cd which is absolutely blinding, I'm in awe of how well it's stood up through time.
On to this weekend, I am spinning like a top. On Saturday we are off to the Duke of York cinema in Brighton for the Eurovision song contest show, I've had a t-shirt tastefully printed with the words 'Boom Bang a Bang' across my tits.
Then, it's Liza Minnelli on Sunday! I really can't wait, ofcourse it's sod's law that I think I am entering into the arena of the unwell, my throat feels a bit dicky, it's the excitement no doubt.

Shop local

I've just seen Don Letts in Tesco and he had his arms crossed.

I'm a bit of a facebook queen and dip in quite frequently. I rather like the application where you compare your friends to each other. It's all good clean fun but I was a bit shocked to find that out of all the things that I could be the best at it's not being most soave or most sophisticated but most punctual! I never thought I would be the most good looking (I have a great face for radio) but most punctual?
Anyway, that does take me nicely to my next point which happened at the bus stop (whilst waiting for a bus which would get me to work on time) the other day. I was approached by a strange looking chap who lumbered up and started to ask me about the next bus. It didn't take me long to diagnose that he was a bit 'funny' but he was quite harmless, he said he lived with his mother and it looked liked she still bought his clothes.
Then he said "do you mind me talking to you?" which quite broke my heart. What kind of society have we become when someone has to ask you that? He obviously spoke from passed experience where I daresay his peculiar manner put the willies up people. But I didn't mind. Afterall, what's more creepy a child in a man's body or a man in a child's?

Time for Toffs

I don't know about you but I'm all for Boris Johnson. I like a man who calls a spade a spade. I was at the gym on Sunday and watched him with Ken and that bent copper whilst on the treadmiill and I must say he sparkled.
They were yarping on about controlled immigration and terrorism which I could just make out over Girls Aloud and the thud of my pulse in my ears as my heart rate increased. My money's on Boris. It's time for toffs to even up the balance. It's all a bit too comprehensive these days. I say what's wrong with a bit of privilege?
Labour's gone all Animal Farm with their heads in the trough, Prescott with Bulimina!? I ask you.
As for immigration, I don't mind the Polish, if it wasn't for their pilots in the war we'd be hearing the sound of jackboots in Oxford Street.

Damn her perversions

We've got one of those chalkboard things in the kitchen where we write household necessities which we really must remember to get. You know the type of thing eggs, flour, butter.
I came down to the kitchen after the wife had left for work to find the words "wet suit" writ large! I know as women age the mind plays the occasional trick but wet suit? I'm a little too worried to ask.

Putting hairs on your chest

Those that have met me in the womanly flesh will know that I like my food. I've just consumed my lunch at my desk which is the way most office workers these days choose to knock something back whilst checking how unpopular they are on facebook. Anyway, I've just had a tomato and mozzarella salad with a poppy seed bread roll. How european. Basically, it's the ploughman's lunch of the 21st century for us Brits and it made me wonder what the farm hands of old would have made of it. I am sure they would have downed tools immediately and refused to scatter the good seed on the land if they had been presented with oily cheese and soggy rocket.

One of Dr Weil’s tasks is to have a ‘no news day’ where you are not to expose yourself to the tabloids, radio and telly news. It’s easy peasy for me. I’ve long lost interest in current events. When I first heard the phrase Credit Crunch I thought it was something Chavs ate for breakfast, the gaza strip sounds like pubic hair removal and as for Zimbabwe - Mugabe Schmugabe.
The Olympic torch didn't raise an eyebrow, it did strike me that a far better protest against China would be to stop buying iPods not to snuff out a flame in Oxford Street or wherever it was. I'm not into the athletics anyway, as far as I can tell they only put them on the telly for old ladies to stare open mouthed at whilst they chew on a custard tart.
The brain is a sponge you see and can’t differentiate between the American Presidential elections and a conversation about cheese, I’d sooner fill my head with the kind of Philadelphia that goes lovely on a Jacobs cracker than the one that might swing Hilarie’s way.
So, that’s that and all about it. The news isn’t like it used to be anyway.

Down with Downward Dog

Yoga = Yawn, I'm down with Pilates now! If you pop in to chez Lola at 7am on a week day morning you'll find me rolling about on the carpet with Zosha Piotrowski. She's fab. She's on Diva TV and I love it. Yesterday she had me so contorted I nearly brought my Shreddies back up.

An offer I couldn't refuse

I became Godmother to my niece and two nephews yesterday, it was brilliant and I was well up for renouncing the devil and his diabolical ways - those Catholics have a great way with words. Anyway, I'm chuffed to bits and you better not mess with me now unless you'd like a horse head in your bed.

In with anger out with love

I'm down with Dr Weil at the moment and have started his 8 weeks to optimum health so it was off to Tesco this lunchtime to stock up on a few nutritional and spiritual essentials.
I only had a few bits and waited at the till whilst a couple of elderly ladies checked out their shopping. I waited and waited and waited as they struggled to put their produce in the bags but chilled out with a few suggestions from Dr Weil's cannon of philosophical hints. After a good three minutes the cashier asked the old girl to pay, she pushed her card in the slot and then failed the chip and pin request FOUR times. It was a blood bath, the cashier's help light flashed so I swept my shopping back in the basket and tried to find another till.
There was more trouble here. A woman questioned her bill and began to add it up herself with a CALCULATOR! I felt a bit dizzy so I began my breathing exercises. She went then the next woman started yarping about growing her own vegetables in Devon and how she fancied maybe over wintering somewhere hot as there's not much sunshine here.
She was in no hurry to pack her shopping or pay, a huge wave of rage came over me and the flowers which Dr Weil suggested I buy for my desk to bring cheer were nearly destined for her behind "I'll give you where the sun doesn't shine" I thought.
The two women who caused the trouble to begin with walked passed me like dominoes leaving the catastrophic chain of events in their wake.
I need to swallow the little book of calm.