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.