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.

The old cart has hit a few lumps on the bumpy road of life this week. The ladyfriend's job is in question and she's a little perturbed. I have told her to hang out for a job she likes and that this is the ideal opportunity to retrain in opthamology but I don't think she's keen. She's my little Lech Walesa at the moment and I'm having to agree with her every demand. I thinks she's quite suited to a trade union role. I put a little bit of extra mayonnaise in her salad this morning to keep her sweet. She might be flying me off to Thailand with her redundancy so I'm Stepford Lola from now on in!

Had a very nice weekend. On Friday the ladyfriend and I had brunch at Favoloso's which, if anyone knows Eastbourne, is an excellent cafe near the theatre. It was more interesting as it first sounds because at the Devonshhire there was a big magician's exhibition/get together and as a consequence Favoloso's was packed with people of magic and mystery. I was rather impressed. Nicely turned out gentlemen sprinkled pepper like fairy dust on their eggs and brassy women - who I took to be their assistants - chuckled over their cappucinos.

We did a little light shopping,popped ourselves on the 'hop on, hop off' tourist bus, rambled around junk shops then ate in an Italian eaterie in the evening. I can't speak highly enough of the Spaghetti Factory. It has a very simple yet contemporary menu and a fine cellar indeed.....I can't remember the walk home.

Saturday was a bit of a washout so we sat and watched episodes of Kath and Kim which were blinding. Yesterday we went along to the Birling Gap in the late afternoon and I was cock-a-hoop to see the tide was out. I took some pictures which the more artistic amongst you may appreciate.

I'm feeling rather lack lustre today. A little bit like a beer mat at a darts tournament in a suburb of Manchester. I dare say that the bottle of red wine that the ladyfriend and I consumed last night has had some influence on my mood. We can't all be a ray of sunshine every day - not that Moira Stewart would have you believe that. She always manages to sparkle before dawn.

I am trying to pull myself out of my torpor by listening to some uplifting music but it is having little or no success in fact I think it's doing the reverse.

I think I shall just have to call today off, rain has stopped play, the fete has been cancelled, the show has been postponed due to the leading lady contracting Trypanosomiasis.

It's time to celebrate indeed as today is the official start of Autumn. For today only the day will be the same length as night (well nearly). Pack away your figure hugging, limb revealing t-shirts and dig out the chunky home-knits and kick about in the leaves - fallen, like Tommies at the Somme. To celebrate, the ladyfriend and I are going to feast on Oriental food as the Sun crosses the celestial equator. Hoorah for that. Summer and her wanton ways are now gone. I've never been a fan, I have enjoyed the odd evening meal in the garden, splashed in the surf in a playful (and not unattractive manner) but it is nothing to the pleasure I have felt from a roaring fire, a bottle of red wine and my crumpets well and truly toasted!

On the way to work this morning I saw the girl who looks like Elle McPherson. She really does look like her. But she has such a frown on her face all of the time. I think she must be late for her bus. I also think she is angry because if it wasn't for Elle she might have been a famous model earning lots of money instead of rushing along the road to get to work. The ladyfriend said that she might not want to be a model. Perhaps she is a reluctant looky likey who gets fed up with people asking if she is Elle McPherson. Infact, perhaps the wind changed direction the last time she scowled at someone asking if she was Elle and it has got stuck like that. Permanently angry at Elle - now if that isn't a good title for a film I don't know what is.

I have nature's bounty on my desk today. I have an overflowing basket of peaches, plums, nectarines, apples, figs and kiwis. It is cheering to the soul to see such fresh, ripe fruit . Sadly, it's a bit of a concern to think of their journey from tree to plate and the continents they must have crossed and the unfortunate pesticide residues still clinging to them. Still, life can not go on without the odd bit of third world exploitation.

I must withdraw my support for fox hunting. It has scuffed up a bit of a hoo-haah with my wonderful mother who has threatened to write me out ot the will. It got a bit nasty and she made some dreadful comments, which I'm sure she now regrets, during lunch today. So I must make it clear that I in no way support hunting with hounds and I'm still down for the silver tea set.

Talking of animal lovers. I saw Rolf Harris yesterday. I let him out of a garden centre car park and he gave me a cheery wave. The ladyfriend's mother was with me and she was reduced to girly giggles such is the man's attraction to the elderly.

The October addition of Country Living magazine arrived yesterday and I have to say, it's the nicest front cover they've done this year. Infact it's the nicest magazine so far. The Christmas issue is normally the most wonderful so they will have to go some to beat this month's. It's autumn in printed form. Leaves, interiors and accessories.......it even has an article on cobnuts.

It has inspired me to take a walk in the woods this weekend. I shall take the box browny and try and capture the gradual turning of the season. I often think of Autumn as being very much like a burning log in a open fire. Heavy and smouldering with fruit, berries and russet leaves and, such is its weight, the woodland like the log gently collapses into the ashes of the year with a sigh of surrender and a puff of smoke.

I'm having a wonderful week of new experience. I have a new computer at work - unfortunately a PC - and I am having fun with the Windows Media Player. I have been listening to a radio station from Bondi Beach which is excellent fun. It's quite a quirky feeling to think that something on the other side of the world is dribbling into my ears with little or no distortion. Amazing. I've got some trippy trance going on at the moment, fun indeed.

I'm very cross at the proposed hunting with hounds ban. I am, as you know, a traditionalist and would like to be with them demonstrating outside Parliament if I could. I don't agree with the way people hunt foxes (blocking up holes, etc) but I don't agree with changing something so inherently of the country and of the land. You start messing with the balance of nature and all hell will break loose. The countryside and the pensioners are two groups this Government have picked on relentlessly, they are also two groups with massive voting power. All these Johnny Foreigners they lavish money on won't be able to understand a democratic voting process - there will be spoilt papers all over the place. Bloody townies with their metropolitan ways, just wait until their small town gardens are over-run with foxes stealing babies from prams and peeing on their lollo rosso.

I'm so busy at work at the moment that I have been in a constant state of mild panic. It's not good for me so I have decided to stop and take a few deep breaths. I should just get myself a new job, trouble is, I have worked here for nearly six years and I fear I may have become institutionalised. I will need counselling and a social worker if I ever manage to go back to the real world.

It's a lovely blustery day. I am trying to convince the ladyfriend to come kite flying at lunchtime but she is having none of it. I think a spot of fun is just what I need to energise my flagging enthusiasm for the afternoon. Trouble is, by the time I've got it up it would have to come down as I only have 30 minutes for lunch.

Last night I was shocked into shame to discover that I use on average 7 sheets of toilet paper. I shall have to curb my excesses!

Had a flop out of a weekend. The ladyfriend was bereft of energy and so we decided to call a halt to our labours. Instead of decorating we did what all the other downshifting yuppies do and flopped out on Holywell Beach. We took the newspaper and a kite and warmed our sickly bodies on the sea shore. Click here to see the pictures. It was an absolute tonic and there was a definite improvement in the ladyfriend's complexion. I had an absolute whale of a time paddling in the retreating surf. The sea temperatures are at their highest at this time of year so I was cautious not to go too far in just incase a great white shark had confused Beachy Head for Bermuda.

Hip, hip, hooray, I have waited for this day all week. Atlast it is Thursday and in five hours the ladyfriend and I will be hitting the M25 in our motor and heading for East Sussex. I think I should drive tonight. The ladyfriend is feeling rather dicky and, in my view, should lay down in a darkened room with some essentials oils and an Enya cd. I reckon she's trying to get out of the painting and decorating this weekend, no staying power that one. I thrive on the scent of turps.

I am feeling rather sprightly, I think it is because I have not had a drink all week, I've kept a dry house and I'm rather energised. It's not a habit I intend to keep.

I need not keep quiet any longer. This morning I managed to buy Morrissey tickets on the internet. They sold out in ten minutes. I am indeed a lucky girl. Thankfully it was not a repeat of the Meltdown fiasco went I was left wanting. My horse has indeed come in this morning! I am hoop-a-cock! Also, if it turns out that I can not go for one reason or another, I can sell the tickets for a song on ebay.

I have not been sleeping well this week, to be honest, I am running on the sludge left in my tank. I have had the occasional flash of light on my peripheral vision which bodes ill. I don't think it's a fight club situation just yet....I'll keep you posted.

The more you ignore me the closer I get

I'm keeping schtumm

I have developed a bit of a headache. Today we are having photoshop 8 training at work and you know how it is with these courses, you have to keep your concentration incase you miss a bit so after three hours the intensity has got to me. I have learned some smashing little tips though, so it's not all bad.

You should have seen me yesterday, I was quite the housewife, I have been batch cooking and freezing stews for the long hard winter ahead. The ladyfriend was painting the front door whilst I was flitting about the kitchen like the domestic goddess I have evolved into. Unfortunately the paint which we bought thinking it was a British Racing Green is rather brighter and more British Rail. The front of the house now looks more like the ticket office on a railway platform in the 1960's. I am sure we will get used to it - and the train spotters it will no doubt attract.

On the way to work I watched a woman in a car sneeze. Fortunately for her she was stuck in traffic and therefore posed no threat to fellow motorists or, for that matter, the clumsy pedestrian. It was quite a nice thing to watch as the sun streamed across her face turning it almost golden. She closed her eyes and her mouth opened, her nose raised and then "gwumpph". It made my day.

This weekend is full of appointments. We have a new washing machine being delivered, a boiler being installed, doors to paint, lawns to be mown, damp dusting to be done and the eubank needs to be pushed around. Quite exhausting. I dare say we will achieve a large percentage of the chores - weather permitting.

My website is undergoing a little surgery at the moment, she was looking rather saggy so I'm doing a bit of lipo here and there. She'll look lovely in the end.....think Cher.

I know the Olympics are over now but I forgot to mention something that stuck out in my mind - the athletes and all the baubles and glitzy things hanging around their necks. When I was at school we weren't allowed to do games with a scrap of jewellery on so I can't understand why these ambassadors of their sport were allowed it. Surely it sends out the wrong signals. With the return to school next week (atlast) the children will be more than a handful for PE teachers up and down the country. I can just see the high jinks that will occur when some little bugger wants to do a roley poley with a silver stud through their belly - and that's just the boys. No, I don't think it should be allowed. We are too free and easy these days and have let standards slip in the world of athletics. You used to be able to watch the fosby floppers in their understated garb and marvel at their technique - not be deafened by the rattle of their necklaces!

I was thinking, in this 24 hour society which we now all reside, is there such a thing as a Bank Holiday? Should I have picked up the telephone yesterday and called telephone banking I am sure it would have been open. Infact, it's an outdated name. Keeping with banks, the ladyfriend and I had a day off from our painting and decorating and took a trip into Lewes on Sunday and carved in stone on the walls of a building society were the words "opened in 1890 something" and it made me imagine big whiskered gentlemen carrying big briefcases with tall black hats in a Dickensian fashion going about their business in charming Lewes whilst children with rickets tackled the sloping high street of the town. It was a nice thought.

My neck has just about recovered from the toil of painting the ceiling at the weekend, emulsion has just about dissapeared from under my nails. I must say I did make a good job. The living room looks like a wedding cake at the moment, completely white and able to withstand a nuclear blast should india be tempted. The search for a chandelier is now officialy begun.

I am cock-a-hoop that September begins tomorrow. I was singing cheery Christmas songs on the lavvy this morning.

Feel a bit dicky this morning. I don't know if it's last night dinner - risotto - but both the Ladyfriend and I feel a bit jippy. To my mind if you consume something that has the texture and resemblance of vomit then, well, it's no surprise if you feel nausea. Rice dishes can often go either way. If it is true that you eat with your eyes then I should be hospitalised.

I had to correct the ladyfriend this morning as she has been singing a song with the wrong words all her life. She's still not convinced. Things like that happen often to myself, for example, it was only a few years ago that the ladyfriend told me that you lock zips by turning the pull thing down. I had given up wearing jeans without a button fly as the embarrassment of having a gaping front every time I sat down was too much. Now I know the secret I buy things with zips all the time. Infact it's become a bit of a mania.

Nine hours to go and then we are off to Eastbourne. I don't think there is a nicer word in the English language than the word "seafront."

A bit of a struggle to get out of bed this morning. I must say I felt a bit like Paula Radcliffe. Give me Mount Everst any day then the monumental task of getting out of bed for work. The ladyfriend is being a bit harsh on old Radcliffe implying that she gave up when she saw she wouldn't get a medal. I don't actually give a bugger about her. Never been keen on running - never had the boobs for it. I was gripped last night by the pole vault but all in all I have found the Olympics rather a damp sqib. I am rather cross about all the empty seats, if Greece have made any money from all this then I'll eat my cat.

The ladyfriend and I have got a bit of an event this weekend. How on earth do you paint sash windows? It's a mental as well as physical task. I've been on google and there is an extroadinary amount of advice. The weather for the bank holiday is typically set for storms but we have out foxed it with our internal decorating plans - ha ha

Wading through treacle a bit this morning. I've brought some polish to work this morning because the state of my desk was unbelievable. I'm on a bit of a cleaning tip at the moment.

My eyes are a bit droopy, I couldn't get off to sleep very well last night and this morning I was awoken by geese. I don't joke. It was a little bit worrying as it sounded a bit like the trailer for The Day After Tomorrow when all of the birds are taking flight. What with all of this torrential rain we've been having I thought my chips were up! It was very eerie I can tell you. There is obviously a small holder in the street as before now I have been awoken by chickens. Perhaps someone is fattening a goose for Michaelmas.I've never cooked my goose. I do love a bit of game though. Got to wait another month before we can eat it though, it's got to hang for a bit. I'd rather like the new Game Cookbook by that fat lady. I'm not blood thirsty but one is so tempted by road kill.

Had rather a splendid weekend, did a bit of life laundry and threw out clothes which I no longer need. I am usually optimistic but knew I'd never again fit into my lovely 501's that have been in the cupboard for two years. Out they went, along with a hundred weight of hoarded magazines. I pulled out cupboards and hoovered the dust. I know now why the D-Day soldiers couldn't talk about what they had seen, I am speachless about the horror beneath the bed. I dare say, in sixty years time I shall be able to tell a great nephew about it.

Yesterday I went to IKEA and ended up in the National Gallery by way of Waterloo Bridge. It was a nice diversion. I had always fancied being a guard in a gallery. To sit beneath the Nation's art treasures and quietly watch people come and go, feel the draft as another Japanese girl with a huge grin gasped at the beauty of the Renaissance. That was until yesterday. Once of the guards was sorting out his lottery numbers instead of keeping a watchfull eye over the pastoral scenes. I felt sad that, what I thought was a dream job, was just as dull as all the others.

This morning I have slipped on a cardy, oh yes I have! Summer is on her back and it's time to lift the gloved fist of Autumn. Due to the cooling nip in the air I polished off a round of toast with extra glee this morning, it was smashing. It had a thick covering of blackcurrant jam on top (my wonderful mother's home made.) I must learn her secret of bottling, last year I tried to make blackberry jam with nature's bounty but it never set , turning instead into some kind of runny fruit compote. She keeps her skills close to her chest which surely must leave a mucky apron.

It must of been wonderful in years gone by before the convenience store, working mothers and ASBOS when the kitchens of England produced the wonderful scent of pickling, jamming and preserving. The windows steaming in yorkshire as jam reached dangerous temperatures, the dripping of liquid through dainty muslin in Berkshire and the rattle of empty jars being taken out of a sterilising oven in Broadstairs. Wonderful. All dissapearing now I fear and what a shame. A generation of children who only know the taste of cheap supermarket jam who will never see a huge jam pan bubbling on the stove - no room in the modern kitchen I am sure because of the juicers, cappucino makers and George Forman Grills!

A mystery has entered my life. For some reason whenever I travel along a certain stretch of road, be it morning, noon or night, I start singing Louis Armstrong songs. I have noticed that it is only in one direction, so there must be something that I catch a glimpse of that triggers this. This morning it was his version of La Vie en Rose complete with the "bum pa da da dum".

I looked out at the sunflowers this morning which have reached well over six feet but have yet to flower. The one at the furthest end which is the weakest looking has been the first to produce a tight head. It seems this will be the one to open up first. It got me thinking, I wonder if we all live in pots of John Innes number 2. What stage of our lives are we in bud? when do we flower? When do we set seed and most importantly when are we dead headed?

I was watching a bit of the olympics last night and was looking at the gymnasts with their hair all up. They all looked the same made up like painted dolls. I was imaging the state of the greek sewage system (never that stable) after that lot had got out of the showers. There will be towelling hair bands, long lengths of hair and glitter backing up round Athens for years.

I have enjoyed this weekend. The heat from the sun has been toned down considerably, I sensed Summer's grasp slip and I am quite sure, smelt Autumn's arrival for her first dress fitting. The ladyfriend and I took a trip into Tenterden where we saw trees heavy with conkers and saw the odd leaf or two give up their lofty seat and fall softly to the ground. click here for pictures of Tenterden.

We also took a quick look at Camber Sands which is absolutely beautiful. I long to return in October when the shadows will be longer. I shall be able to take some nice photographs I am sure. Mind you, I am rather down about my camera. At Eastbourne's Airbourne yesterday she let me down badly. I couldn't capture the Utterly Butterly wingwalkers on microchip. As soon as I had pressed click the planes had sped out of view and I lost them. Take a look at the pics here but they are not very good.I need a new faster model but I won't be able to get one passed petty cash for a long time now we need a new boiler. We will be scrimping and saving till I'm in my sixties, ruing my Viv Nicholson days at the mall forever.

The glorious twelth: Grouse shooting begins

Looks like the weather's going to be a bit ropey this weekend. Shame, it's Airbourne this weekend. Last year we sat on the beach and watched the Utterly Butterly Wingwalkers. This year we will need a brolly. It's quite lucky though, we can see the Red Arrows perform their daring displays from the flat, such is their altitude.

On the way down tomorrow I have asked the Ladyfriend if we may stop enroute at the British Wildlife Centre. We have past it so many times and it has always looked such an alluring place. I do find the natural world so engaging. Infact, I was saying this to the Ladyfriend last night, I feel I maybe a bit of a geek. The evidence is writ large - only this week I have booked a place on a fossil hunt in Folkestone and as you know my love of folk music is well documented. Oh, it's all my own doing. I will never be trendy, I will always be on the sidelines of the incrowd, dancing to the beat of a different drum, going down the Stoney End, I never wanted to go down the Stoney End.......

Just picked up two big boxes of books from my Wonderful Mother's house. She has housed them for me for the last three years and I had forgotton all about them. I had a quick flick through and was struck firstly by delight at their rememberance and two by what jolly good taste I have in hardbacks. Ofcourse I now have to dash out and by a bookshelf for them but I don't mind. Books are wonderful, they sit there un-read whilst the wind blows, the sun shines and rain falls, months come and go, years drift by then they are picked up and are as fresh as a daisy. I wonder that, if they know no one is looking, the words scramble around the page and the frowns on people straighten?

I think it's the last installment of any upheaval in one's life when you get stuff back from storage. The dust finally settles.

Oh good lord there's prozac in the tap water. As if it wasn't bad enough that trout are growing female sex organs because of the oestrogen in our piss being passed into our rivers, now I have to cope with this! How terrible, what else is in the stuff? A cocktail of drugs, additives, steroids and E numbers. If it is true, that you are what you eat, then the same can be said for what you drink. Perhaps, it is a conspiracy. Stir in the prozac and we will be shiny, happy people, content with the Government and the price of fish? Environment spokesman Norman Baker said it looked "like a case of hidden mass medication upon the unsuspecting public". Indeed it does.

I try not to drink too much tap water, preferring instead the bottled variety, however, I now worry about lingering in the bath too long. What if I am being dosed by osmosis?

On a Brighton bound train on Saturday I looked out at the Sussex countryside and saw a man in a field with a huge butterfly net. I've never seen this in the flesh.

Brighton Pride was great fun, well the parade was, but I think I've grown too old to do the park thing. It's just too hot, too crowded and I don't think I can hack the walk to Preston park anymore. The ladyfriend and I have decided that next year we will watch the parade and then go for a good lunch and some light shopping afterwards. I think life's all about knowing when to let go. If you would like to see my photos click here

We've got our new car, thanks to Karen's wheeling and dealing, and it's fabulous. It feels rather grown up, I can't see over the bonnet and I'm terrified of parking it but it's smashing. It certainly made light work of the M25 on Friday night.

Do you know, I rather like Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich? I'm listening to the soundtrack of the wonderful BBC adaptation of the Jake Arnott novel The Long Firm which I cadged off a nice woman at work. I still stand by everything I have ever said about the BBC in the past, a few good programmes does not a justification for a licence fee make, but it was blinding.

This weekend is a bit of a cracker. Friday we are off to pick up our new car and to take the middle man out for lunch. Then it's off down to the south coast (no dip in the sea this weekend after the Thames water debacle) Saturday is a holiday in the gay calendar as it's Brighton Pride. Ooh, I hope it's not too hot. Soaring temperatures, alcohol and whistles do for me these days.

Sunday we will be hanging out with the tie dye bunch at Eastbourne Lammas festival So all and all I should think about getting some beauty sleep tonight. Mustn't let the side down in the disco tent.

I do enjoy extreme weather conditions, yesterday afternoon was quite a hoot - obviously not for the poor devils hit by lightning. I must admit the ladyfriend and I diced with death by standing out in it for a minute, the folly of youth.......mind you we are both the wrong side of thirty.

This work thing is a bit of a bore, I've yet to receive an investor for my Isle of Wight idea, perhaps I should take an advert out in Private Eye and hook a rich benefactor such as Mr Fahed. I'm after an Ambromovich, I'd be able to buy prize rare breeds with that sort of financial backing, during the slow months I'd let groups of impoverished Russian children run amok as long as they didn't touch the silver and kept off the Axminster. I don't know, so little time to do everything you'd like to in life. Goals and aspirations. Mind you Lady Luck has smiled on me so many times her face must ache.

Message to the Mijas Massive - sink a big gin and rub some high factor on some delicate places for the Ladyfriend and I.

Whilst the ladyfriend and I took the evening air last night on our new health kick (apparently: Power Walk + No Alcohol x Portion Control = weight loss for the ladyfriend. Something I have been trying to say for some time but I wont be one to discourage especially after my wonderful mother's success) Anyway, we started to muse on the possibilities of our future and a preferable lifestyle.
At the moment our dream is to move to the Isle of Wight and open an environmentally kosher camp site/organic small holding/cider press and fossil theme park. It would be good. All year I would parade around in shorts, grow my body hair to alarming lengths and spend the summer ticking off campers for lighting bad bar-b-ques.

During the winter I would run cookery lessons and handy craft courses for gullible women with disposable incomes. In the springtime I would hold a folk festival (packing the ladyfriend off to a greek island first).

A patch of woodland would be exclusively for kids so they can run free, build camps, play cowboys and indians, swallows and amazons. Ofcourse this area would have to be cordoned off with an electric fence to stop them straying into the adult areas but I am getting ahead of myself.
Oh it's a pipe dream ofcourse as the value can go up aswell as down, the best laid plans etc but wouldn't it be something to live on the Isle of Wight a blob of land that is forever England.

Oh by the way, apparently I am read in New Zealand.

Back with my nose firmly at the grindstone my holiday memories, like my reluctant sun tan, fading with each passing hour. My annual summer leave turned out to be one of disease. Both the ladyfriend and I were laid low with nasty colds that no amount of benilyn and ginger beer could touch. It meant that our decorating plans remained just that, we were both too weak to lift a sponge roller between us.

When we managed to move a typical day began with tea and buttered toast. We then dressed for the beach, packed our lunch and set out in the motor. I jumped out at the traffic lights to buy the newspapers, two cans of cold ginger beer and chocolate then it was Holywell Beach bound. We then made a bee-line for the unofficial nudey beach - less children but you have to stomach the wrinkly arses of mucky old men. We had a rare old time. I flew my kite, we dipped in the briney, splashed in rock pools, hunted fossils, skinned our hearts and skinned our knees - the usual stuff. It is the best beach in all christendom, my favourite place where God paints the scenery and I want to go back : Click here for pictures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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