Thoughts of a Tank Girl

And so we meet again

2010-02-03T19:37:00.000-08:00

Seeing as I am back in the attic yet again, doing my Cathy Dollanganger impression, I thought I should also blog, seeing as that appears to be the way of things.

However this time, I swore I would not go back 5 pounds heavier, like I do every time I visit the States. Especially when you're staying over the road from stoner munchies heaven, Wawa. You gotta have it. After all, as a wise man once said, you never go to America to get thin.

This adamant intention has therefore meant I have been getting up between 6 and 7 every morning to do Davina workout DVDs. Whether that makes an entirely sane individual, I'm not entirely sure, but it's worked.

However, it has left me rather too much time of an evening to read the utter tripe that is Love Lies by Adele Parks. (Obviously I missed something other readers didn't at Amazon) Granted, the title was written in swirly pink lettering, with a heart dotting the "i" in Lies, so I should have known what was coming, but this is seriously the Worst Book I Have Ever Read.

Basic premise is girl is living with guy. Guy not yet grown up, she nearly 30, wants marriage and babies. Gives ultimatum, "propose to me on my 30th or leave". (I really should have read the back cover while running through Smiths at Heathrow... you can tell it's not for me already.) Then, cue ridiculous storyline of her falling for some huge popstar, him proposing to her at his gig, boyf dumped, she moves to LA with pop prince, gay BFF florist boss in tow. Not only is it the most contrived storytelling I have ever read, but you therefore get to read both her idiotic, vomit-inducing simpering, and his vacuous self-indulgence. Can you wait to find out how it turns out? No, neither could I.

Adele, Adele, what happened? Having read Game Over and impressed with your catty one-liners and dry social comment, where did it all go so wrong? Are we women so two-dimensional that any level of civilised story arc is beyond us? Of course not.

Having been involved with a famous person myself, and familiar with the egos of those who court the fame dream, the story is, trust me, very short. Only they will understand each other, and we should remain in blissful ignorance.

So, having reached my trash level, perhaps, for both my emotional and intellectual education, this is a blessing. At least the only way is up. It is a new decade, and a new reading focus shall follow.

Now, where should I start and who should I try? Substance please, but be gentle. I do after all read military history in my spare time. Of which I very much recommend Tommy at Gommecourt, a self-published tome about a plucky WWI soldier who tells it exactly like it was.

(Beverage: Gin. US measures. Shoes: Nine West metallic silver heels. When it's not snowing. A lady has limits, and that's falling on her arse.)

Working Girl

2009-09-08T12:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder why I decided to go down the career woman path. Every day I wake up stressed out of my mind, too much to do, too much to think about, not enough time, no-one to help. As much as I love my job, there is nothing I'll look forward to more than a holiday, and then spend the whole time feeling guilty and fretting about all the work I have to do when I get back, now that I've lost that week. Bordering possibly on insanity about the whole thing, I'm sure.
I love my job, I really do, and I have recently gotten a promotion which means more money, stronger career opportunities in the future, and a chance to have a say in where the company goes. I am utterly flabbergasted, and still in shock. Yet with this, also comes added pressure, mounting expectation, and a boss who now demands every ounce of my being. Yet, when I think about it, I was just as happy being a waitress.
Granted, I can't be a waitress when I'm 45, well I suppose I could, but you don't exactly see many of them, do you?, and the pay is risky, especially now I imagine people are going out for dinner rarely, and when they do, angst over a bottle rather than a glass, which leaves thought for a decent tip somewhat unlikely. But what is it that drives me to be so far up the career ladder that there is nothing at the top but more work and nothing else, because there's no time and you're too knackered. I have neglected my friends, barely knowing anything about the ins and outs of what they are up to, because I'm just too tired and ratty to make the effort I should. As for relationships...
A friend of mine recently opted out of the next step up for something more relaxed, less all-consuming, and without too much drama, even though she took a pay cut and the job is easier. I admire her. For so long I have defined myself by my job, that I am realising I am nothing without it, simply because I have nothing left to give after it.
What to do about that, I'm not sure, but I do know that for the rest of this week, the laptop goes off, and I will do my best to switch the work head off and have some fun. Then think about getting more sleep, how to leave my forehead alone and spend more time on and with friends, because surely they're worth more than any promotion or pay-rise?

Attic fever

2009-08-12T14:04:00.000-07:00

So here I am, cooking like the proverbial lobster, back in the attic while the teens play rock band and eat sugar. In light of this return, I realised it was also the last time I blogged. Seems the lack of sanity and random blitherings go hand in hand... So, then, what's new... Well not much by all accounts. However, I have put up shelves (with help, granted) - a descent into the world of DIY weekends and old age, clearly. My almost indestructible cat sadly proved the almost to be true. Snivel. I still wish I was a little bit thinner and a little bit taller. I am however, tanned. Which helps. Gin is a veritable life support machine, as ever was, and my friends, are as always, very fabulous.
I am still single, which irritates me far less than I thought, considering recent forays into, well, lets be polite and say "disappointments". But I do think I should probably pay more attention to that at some point soon. Someone to help with the cooking and carrying of bags, and indeed further shelves, wouldn't go amiss. Someone to hold the popcorn so I don't eat it all or throw it all down myself during bad action flicks is also, always useful.
I also continue to work incessantly, and have no idea when I'm going to slow down. Not any time soon I should think. Damnit.
So, I'm thinking of joining a walking club upon leaving the attic, which should help with the recently acquired sloth thighs, and I'm thinking about other ways to do things differently. Yoga sounds like an idea, as does regular trips to somewhere I haven't been before. More book reading, too, and more learning. More to think about.

(Beverage: H20. It's all too hot in here. Shoes: New. I fell into an outlet store and meanwhile, mountains were made.)

Random memery

2008-08-13T19:13:00.000-07:00

Ok, after this, I think I'll have it.

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Smoking, drinking, dancing, studying and defining. It was a heady mix of madness and sadness as I shuttled between university and hospital. A demanding time.

Five snacks I enjoy in a perfect, non-weight gaining world:
5-carb city...

Cheese

Crisps

Chocolate

Cashews

Croissants

Five snacks I enjoy in the real world:

Ummm... fewer of the above. Ahem. But certainly fewer croissants.

Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:

Buy Rhi her yacht AND her castle

Buy a country house in England, an apartment in NY; and a beachfront home somewhere breath-taking and as far away from civilisation as is feasible.

Work infrequently doign something socially rewarding.

Donate to various charities.

Buy an exceptional wardrobe and hire a personal trainer to help me fit into it.

Five jobs that I have had:

Chambermaid - my least favourite position and never being role-played

Waitress - my favourite job - before I got too tired

Bookseller - my least economical job

Shop assistant at a quintessential chocolateboxville shop - bring on the chintz

Editor of a publishing company - where I became infected with tankitis

Five habits:

Picking my forehead - my least favourite trait

Lists - everything seems more manageable with a list for it

Crackberry

Cleaning on a Sunday

Hair-twirling - particularly during intense thought

Five places I have lived:

NY

Oxford

Cheltenham

Broadway

London

Not terribly cosmopolitan, but thankfully there's still time.

Though it's now time to head to bed...

Bemusings

2008-08-13T18:39:00.000-07:00

I can't decide whether I'm unsurprised, surprised, or bemused about some previous postings of mine being recredited to someone else. Either way, I'm not entirely sure it's good writing "etiquette"...
But what can you do? Encourage oneself to write more new stuff I think. Especially as it's thankfully far less high-profile!

(Gin. Premium. Stateside. Barefooted and bitten. A diluted TG of late, it's true...)

All I got is my forty

2008-08-13T17:06:00.000-07:00

Once again I bow to the wonder of memes to get me back on the road to bloggery. Seeing as I've been struggling to find my way out of the mental work bubble of late, I thought this was a perfect way to clear a path out of the whirlwind of circling fog.

So, to the meme...

The rules are simple: one word answers to 40 questions.

Where is your cell phone? Attic

Your significant other? Liberating

Your hair? Reassuring

Your mother? Barking

Your father? Missed

Your favourite time of day? 22:22

Your dream last night? Troubling

Your favourite drink? H2O

Your dream goal? Contentment

The room you’re in? Vibrant

Your ex? Damaging

Your fear? Death

Where do you want to be in six years? Secure

What are you not? Unrestrained

Your favourite meal? Indulgent

One of your wish list items? Maldives

The last thing you did? Refuel

Where you grew up? Chocolateboxville

What are you wearing? Comfort

Your TV is? Selective

Your pets? Surviving

Your computer? Cherished

Your life? Almost

Your mood? Diluted

Missing someone? Always

Your car? Salvation

Something you’re not wearing? shoes

Favourite store? AP

Your summer? Displaced

Your favourite colour? Oxblood

When is the last time you laughed? Daily

When is the last time you cried? Recently

Your health? Problematic

Your children? Uncertain

Your future? Indefinite

Your beliefs? Non-committal

Young or old? Young

Your image? Varied

Your appearance? Lapsed

Would you live your life over again knowing what you know? No

Friends Like These

2008-04-28T17:07:00.000-07:00

Some friends come and go, and though it can hurt at the time, most times you manage, sometimes, harsh as it sounds, even wondering how on earth you had stayed friends in the first place when you added so little to each other.
And then there are those friends you know you would miss as much no matter how much time had passed, who are so important to you that you feel almost as if an actual part of you is missing when they aren't around.
My friend B was back in town just over a week ago, being back properly for the first time since she ran off to a Xmas tree farm with a Red Sox fan, I mean really ;-), and it hit me like a freight train quite how much I had missed the lady living here. I have missed B terribly since she left, and having her back home was a wonderful, wonderful thing.
I only hope that the next time, after the next time, fingers crossed, our schedules won't be quite so ridiculously unhelpful and we'll actually get to spend more than a blink of time together. Here's hoping.

(Wine. Italian. Decent. Pizza, huge. Of course. Shoes, fabulous. As always with B around.)

Teacher's Pet

2008-04-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

Seeing as B always has to nag me about such things, I thought I'd be good and pre-empt. And because I'm at a loss for writing anything remotely interesting this week due to brain being mush.

What is your occupation?

The ridiculously long title of Director of Marketing and New Business. For a military history publisher. Hence TG.

What colour are your socks right now?

Black. Even though I'm in bed. It's cold, I forgot to put the heating back on and there's no poor bloke to warm them up on, damnit. I knew they were good for something.

What are you listening to right now?

The rain pelting down outside. Actually there's nothing like being in bed when it's raining outside. Oh and my unfeasibly loud boiler, because well you can't not.

What is the last thing you ate?

Far too much. Roasted peppers and then a stupidly large pizza (thankfully not all of it, I showed my thighs mercy) at good old Pizza Express with the lovely Joey.

Can you drive stick shift?

Of course. I even know what that means. It's proper driving and much more fun.

If you were a crayon, what colour would you be?

I'd be blue, so I could be the sea or the sky.

Last person you spoke to on the phone?

Joey. Bloody A34.

What’s your favourite yoga pose?

Stood up, leg curled behind me, over my head. Stretches everything out.

How old are you today?

About 55.

Favourite drinks?

G&T, champagne, bourbon, water, fresh OJ and Ribena until they took all the nice stuff out.

What is your favourite sport to watch?

Tennis, Gymnastics.

Have you ever dyed your hair?

Put it this way, I'm not entirely sure what my natural hair colour actually is.

Pets?

A cat, who has actually morphed into a small child. Or a cantankerous old man. Essentially the same thing. He is a lot of sevens.

Favourite cake?

Do Viennese Whirls count?

Last movie you saw?

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Quite simply one of the best films in existence. I dehydrated myself.

Favourite day of the year?

I have no idea. Maybe that day on holiday when you finally switch off and forget what day it actually is.

How do you vent anger?

Directly, forcibly and without compromise. Thankfully only ever verbally and not very often. Apart from that head-patting incident.

What was your favourite toy as a child?

A small white plush lamb, and a yellow teddy bear. I couldn't choose between them.

Autumn or spring?

Spring. The lambs back home are adorable, it's getting warmer, and people smile more. I also eat less! She says...

Hugs or kisses?

Hugs for the most part. I'm not one of those kiss everyone hello and goodbye people. Just someone.

Cherry or blueberry?

Blueberry.

Do you want your friends to respond?

I don't think anyone I know blogs apart from B so I'm not sure they can.

Who is most likely to respond?

See above.

Who is most likely not to respond?

See above.

Living arrangements?

An upside down two-floor flat which is a life-saving haven for me, and provides similar sanctuary for some close friends from time to time. It's well-loved.

Last time you cried?

Monday. Sometimes I miss Dad just a bit too much.

What is on the floor of your closet?

Shoes. Filled to the brim. It's a small closet. Ahem.

Who is the friend you’ve had the longest?

Jamie. We were 2. But he lives in Turkey now, and I rarely see him, so Anna, 6.

Favourite smell?

Bleach. I am Monica.

Who or what inspires you?

Memories. Creativity. Colleagues. Travel.

What are you afraid of?

Death. Failure. Poverty. Apathy.

Hamburgers?

Veggieburgers.

Favourite car?

Maserati Gran Turismo. Sexy as hell.

Number of keys on your key ring?

2. Main door, front door. Secure, but a pain when you're half dressed.

How many years at your current job?

4 months and I'm loving every minute.

Favourite day of the week?

Sunday. Lie-in. Potter. Clean. Papers. Bath. Sofa. Swim. DVD. Sleep. Sigh.

How many countries have you lived in?

Three. So far.

Dream job?

The one I do now, except in NY or Sydney.

The Joy of Mex

2008-04-02T14:52:00.000-07:00

One of the things I missed most on my return from living in NYC (aside from the half-price shoes, affordable mani/pedi and Central Park of course - shallow, moi?!) was the absolute dearth of Mexican fare in my home town.
Being a vegetarian, Mexican food is one of life's greatest gifts. What other cuisine covers the vital veggie lifesavers of cheese, bread, salad, avocado, tomatoes, chips and chocolate and combines it all into one meal? What is there not to like? And don't even get me started on the magic that is a margarita...
Yet, for all its availability in Manhattan, such wonders have eluded me here (though some may say my thighs have been eternally grateful) and I have made do with trips Stateside to get my fix. Until now.
Now, all of a sudden, you can barely move for burritos. New restaurants Giraffe, Mission Burrito, Las Iguanas and Nandos have landed in Italian Bistro Central and shaken their maracas all over the shop. It's almost as if they all bought the same market research report "University towns want more South American food". Franchise city though it may be, I'm lovin' it. Kid in a candy store me.
Though of course now I have to explain this all-important news to my thighs, and hope they understand when it means yet more swimming, squash and even more of that dreaded, detestable exercise bike. I wonder, will they ever forgive me?

(Beverage: Pomegranate Green Tea. Antioxidant concession to last night's very much not. Shoes: Black patent heels. Vague attempt to combat the puce.)

Guilty pleasure 27: Drinking on a school night

2008-03-26T16:43:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, there were no school nights. Just nights. Days were largely irrelevant. It was all about the after. 4 hours sleep, no problem. Bottles, shots, glass upon glass. Getting drunk, getting high, living on the crest of the wave called 'never missing out'. Never missing out on what exactly? Everyone else, fearful of the same thing. Of course we were all missing out. "Having fun you say? Umm, yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Certainly something, anything had to be better than the same old places, same old drunk faces, surely.
Now of course things are different. I do more, I see more. I feel better. More alive than I ever did then. Now, drinking on a weekday is illicit and gleeful, if no doubt disastrous for the rest of the week. Of course I appreciate we all need to drink less, and somehow I've certainly managed to lately (the nearly 30 killer hangovers may have just clinched it), but sometimes there is nothing greater than the unspoken shiny-eyed look which passes between you and your co-conspirator, standing on the cliff face of that second bottle, which says Sod it. Why not.

Remind me of this in the morning, would you?

(Wine: Albariño Martin Codax Rias Baixas. Great white, with a bite. Shoes: Nine West. Stilettos you can live in.)

Back to basics

2008-03-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

Meeting up with old friends is like a breath of fresh air. It puts things into perspective and reminds me of how I'm most comfortable. There's something inherently refreshing about taking off the mask and letting it all hang out so to speak. They've seen it all before, after all.
I've spent quite a bit of time lately with those who've known most incarnations of TG over the years, and it's been exactly what was needed. When things are tough, and you're not quite sure how the hell you got here, it's good to be with those who know where you came from - and remind you of it regularly.
So here's to the essence of TG, and getting back to basics.

(Shoes: Diesel flip flops. Easy living.)

The wonder of Orange Tic-Tacs

2008-03-13T16:19:00.000-07:00

I can't decide which was the most touching moment in the quite simply brilliant Juno. The mailbox full of tictacs or the note to Vanessa. I think I'm going to have to go with the orange mailbox. It's one of those actions which someone does for you that makes you realise quite how much they understand and accept you.
Though flowers are always lovely, and dinner in a fancy restaurant is always acceptable, it's nothing compared to those things which say, I love you for all the weird shit that comes with you too.
Because we're all odd, and we all have weird shit interests – a snapshot of mine being a combination of military fighting vehicles, Nine West shoes and bad action films, preferably at the same time. It's what makes us different, special, and most importantly interesting. So bring me my own geek with their own social oddities over your stud muffin with six pack any day of the week. Except perhaps not with the yellow running shorts and headband. We all have our limits.

5 things

2008-03-09T12:17:00.000-07:00

I was tagged by Becky for this one. I quite liked thinking about the things I do for myself, as I've only recently started to really take more time to actually do things just for myself, and to enjoy this time, and these things.

Something which I think has made me an easier person to be around, and certainly a happier one.

The rules are:

List five things you do for yourself
List five things you do for your closest friend, partner or child
List five kind things you have done for a stranger
Have fun
Tag five people

1. Five things I do for myself

Have at least one day or night a week to myself, and that includes not answering the phone
Regularly update my underwear collection
Go to the cinema once a week
Have my hair coloured, expensively
Make sure I keep learning new things

2. Five things I do for my closest friend

Just listen when I know she just needs to talk, not talk about
Support her in whatever endeavour she chooses next
Give her the spare key
Look out for things I know she'll like
Tell her often how much I value our friendship

3. Five kind things I have done for a stranger

Gave them £20 when the machine swallowed their card and they were stranded
Helped them pick out an outfit for a wedding
Helped a child back to its mother
Ran after them when they left their gloves behind at the cinema
Lend them my mobile when they were stuck on a train and needed to call home

Meme-ing Me

2008-03-09T12:04:00.000-07:00

Right, let's give this blog lark another go. Becky has tagged me for another meme, so time to get back on the horse. I muse about the goings on of life often, and I like writing, so blogging should make far more sense than it sometimes does.

So, meme, then post. No more thought involved than that.

Captain Jack brought me back

2008-01-28T05:09:00.000-08:00

Heck it's been a while since I picked up the virtual pen and blogged anything. Getting a new job meant no more internet access for free time frivolity, so now that's been sorted (just need the laptop fixing now... doh...) and to give in to Becky's nagging (very nice-looking new blog home I must say), I'm back wibbling on.
To celebrate the appearance of Captain John to our TV screens. Torchwood, the spin-off from Doctor Who and starring Captain Jack as lead, has always been a bit hit and miss for me. Some episodes were fantastic, some fell a little flat.
However, all this changed with the introduction of James Marsters playing Captain John, one of Captain Jack's old adversaries, and indeed lovers. Which basically leads to a fantastic series of punch-ups, staring competitions and some snogging for good measure (imagine Angel and Spike if they were suddenly overcome with lust for each other). Captain John is basically a revisitation of James Marster's Spike, but when someone does something so well, why not?
For a taster see here
and if you can still download it on BBC's iPlayer, do.
It's a great piece of television, and reminds me why science fiction is quite such a good thing.
If only Captain John could have stayed a bit longer - much like Stephen Fry in tv series Bones. I guess they had bigger fish to fry. For Mr Masters it seems a singing career is next on the list. He's playing at a mate's club in April, so I may well go. If only to see Spike sing... (I'm sure for Mr Fry, world domination is the big fish. For which I am most grateful.)

New York, New York

2007-12-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

Start spreadin' the news, I'm leavin' today
I want to be a part of it, New York, New York
These vagabond shoes are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it, New York, New York

I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap

These little town blues are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it, in old New York
If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you, New York, New York

I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps
And find I'm A-number-one, top of the list,
King of the hill, A-number-one

These little town blues are melting away
I'm gonna make a brand new start of it in old New York
A-a-a-nd if I can make it there, I'm gonna make it anywhere

It's up to you, New York, New York.

Sigh. That's right Frank. What place could be better...

Sweet Sherman

2007-11-26T14:22:00.000-08:00

Gordon Ramsay. Raymond Blanc. Jamie Oliver. Nothing, I tell you, nothing compares to the creative genius of this little beauty...

Seeing as I have now left my current tank girl position (for another, slightly more upwardly mobile one), I was presented with this awe-inspiring creation to send me on my way. Made, by hand, by my dear friend Ruth. Along with more kind words and gifts than any person should be allowed to receive.
To say I was speechless was an under-statement. To say I was possibly more touched that day than perhaps any other, is also not an under-statement. I think there are two other times which match it. A car, a necklace and a great friend, one. When my father told me I had never disappointed him, the other.
Moments such as this should, and will, always be treasured. I don't think you need many. Just a small number of very special moments, with very special people, who show you that they care. It need not be a grand gesture. No thousand red roses or firework display. Just the right words or the right smile. There's no truer gift than that.

Heavenly Hair

2007-10-04T12:57:00.001-07:00

Sometimes there's nothing like that just stepped out of a salon feeling. I imagine it's much like that fit girl giving you the 'look' for blokes. It's that walking down the street knowing that your hair just looks, well, rather fab. Whether you do or not is irrelevant. It's all about the hair. I think it might even be up there with very good sex... Ooh matron.
Call me shallow. Call me a girl (occasionally I am) - but when you're feeling low and the whole world seems against you, a new haircut really does take the edge off. Sigh. If only I could afford it more often. That and the ten million other things, naturally...

The Days Where Nothing Goes Right TM

2007-09-25T04:58:00.000-07:00

I have decided that someone needs to set up a 'The Days Where Nothing Goes Right' service. You know, one of those ones where you call up a number, order what you need and a Very Nice Man on a bike arrives twenty minutes later.
Quite frankly, today has been just one of those days - heel breaks on shoe, no more money in the bank, a nail folds back on itself bleeding everywhere, and to top it off, a trapped nerve in the neck.
Now to all intents and purposes, I really should just go back to bed, forget the day ever happened, and hope tomorrow is better. However, like most of the non-student, child, old people population, I am at work, and therefore unable to demand such luxuries as hiding under a duvet.
Therefore, I think there should be a service directly for days like this. Whether it be replacement shoes in your size to get you home (thankfully I was only halfway out the door) with limited ridicule, impromptu buttons, safety pins and sewing kit for when one pops off your shirt just before you're about to head off to an important meeting, or most importantly chocolate brownies on credit for when you realise you have to live on beans on toast for the next week, along with various other 'Feel Better' food and drink items - crisps, Dairy Milk Fruit and Nut and pistachio nuts are springing to mind at this point.
Combine this with a manicurist (and indeed chiropractor at this rate) and hairdresser on standby, and I feel that days like this could cease to exist, or at least seem far better than they do now!

Reading bake-athon

2007-09-23T09:15:00.000-07:00

Also known as my holiday in Crete. Well, as much as an entire week spent with your mother can be classed as a holiday. Thankfully the twitch is starting to subside.
However, it was most certainly a break from the norm, and indeed from work, for the first time in a very long time. No laptop. No internet. No manuscripts in my hand luggage. Replaced with 9 books, 5 magazines, and 4 bikinis. Sigh.
On arrival at the hotel, I discovered not only that there was a 'private' beach (private meaning less than 300 people these days it seems) across the road, but that there was a little alcove where no-one else was baking.
And so, (when I was motherless) this was where I spent last week - feet in the sea, book in one hand and suntan lotion in the other.
On the rare occasions I looked up from whichever world I had transported myself to, I did a spot of 'book-watching'. Nosey at the best of times, it is intriguing to see what others are reading. Not only was I pleased to see fewer Dan Browns than in previous years, (finally I hope, the world is moving on) but that everyone (the largely British contingent that is) seemed to be reading something different. Whether the wonders of Amazon and other sites have helped improve the diversity of the general public's reading, I don't know, but it was a breath of fresh air to see fewer Grishams, McNabs, and Potters than ever before.
Which led me to decide the following - once a month I am going to ask a different friend to recommend a book to me (now I have actually made a noticable dent in my 'other people's books to read' pile) and I'll read it, no questions asked. Hopefully this will not only expand my reading preferences, but also my knowledge - of other good authors, and indeed of life.

What are you reading right now?

2007-09-04T06:45:00.000-07:00

A booky meme which I was tagged by Becky for.

What are you reading right now?
The Book Thief. Use of Weapons. Hiding the Elephant. Essentially Richard’s book collection.
I normally only read one book at a time, but I went through a phase of not being able to pick up a book at all, so now I have lots of other people’s to catch up on. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!

Do you have any idea what you’ll read when you’re done with that?
Because of said reading absence, I’ll be taking a great pile of books with me on holiday next week, including some good old trash from Anita, and two Sebastian Faulks from Ruth. Engleby and Human Traces.

What magazines do you have in your bathroom right now?
None. I do have a book called Passing Time in the Loo, though. A freebie from a book fair which serves its purpose. I always read GQ in the bath. It just doesn’t live there.

What’s the worst thing you were ever forced to read?
Aside from the revoltingly dull feminist drivel I was forced to read as part of my degree, I would say perhaps the odd military history manuscript. Some people just can’t write for toffee. Like literary nails on a blackboard.

What’s the one book you always recommend to just about everyone?
I don’t normally like recommending books to people because they are such a subjective choice. I always fear I’ll get it wrong. Imply I don’t understand them. Or display an appalling lack of taste in literature. However, there are three books which I feel have left a permanent stamp on me, and so would be the books I’d probably recommend, if anyone were to ask. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. The Time Traveller’s Wife. The Giving Tree.

Admit it, the librarians at your library know you on a first name basis, don’t they?
I don’t currently belong to a library. I often consider it, seeing as I only live round the corner from one, but I just never seem to get through my current ‘to read’ pile before more are added.

Is there a book you absolutely love, but for some reason, people never think it sounds interesting, or maybe they read it and don’t like it at all?
Aside from my secret Jilly Cooper fetish - who I am sure many would say is a Marmite author - I am sure there are many books which I adore and lots of people would hate! Probably The Secret Life of Bees if I had to pick one.

Do you read books while you eat? While you bathe? While you watch movies or TV? While you listen to music? While you’re on the computer? While you’re having sex? While you’re driving?

While eating: Of course. Who doesn’t? Nothing quite like a Sunday morning with a good book and a peanut butter bagel. Aside from perhaps a half-naked Daniel Craig lying next to me, being showered with crumbs.

While bathing: Again, of course. Bubbles, book, bath. Sigh.

While watching movies or TV: No, no, no. These are three very separate things. Why read a book half-heartedly? No point in reading it at all.

While you listen to music: Not often. If I’m listening to a new CD I’m certainly listening to the lyrics and therefore would never be reading as well. Sometimes though, I just like having good music on in the background no matter what I’m doing.

While on the computer: No. Unless of course you count reading something like this…

While having sex: If this is even remotely a consideration, you should not be having sex with that person. Either train them to get better, or find a new one.

While you're driving: Despite many people’s mutterings that I’m a rather mad driver, ahem, I would never try to do this. Aside from the running theme through these responses that reading is all-encompassing, and therefore should not be juggled, I really don’t think it would be wise.

When you were little, did other children tease you about your reading habits?
Never. Not many children teased me when I was little.

What’s the last thing you stayed up half the night reading because it was so good you couldn’t put it down?
The last Harry. I just had to know.

Fisher Price Feet

2007-08-30T13:47:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or does the entire world appear to have been taken over by the deadly curse of Fisher Price Feet? Men, women and children all over the country, and indeed overseas - the virus appears to have spread worldwide - are walking around with their hooves encased in plastic toys.
For those who have managed to escape this scary phenomenon, I present to you Crocs.
Plastic shoes in a variety of garish colours, which for some reason the accompanying words 'comfy' and 'colourful' have managed to cause grown men and women to abandon all sense of style and reason and wear these items with vigour.
Now don't get me wrong, I am all in favour of comfy. Even colourful. (Blue Suede Shoes anyone?) I mean I own many pairs of flipflops, and there is even a pink stripey set in the pile somewhere. However, there were, I thought, times and places for such attire, and only the few delighted in regularly startling their peers with mad footwear.
It seems I am wrong. Gone are the days of a simpler time. Black, brown, navy. White if you're from Essex, or you're a girl and it's summer. Red if you feel like scandalising the office. Now an entire nation is being bombarded with yellow, orange and lime green, worn with reckless abandon and without a moment's hesitation. How long can it last I ask myself. How can people be that happy when they are wearing shoes quite that ugly?
And then I look down at my own worn trotters, scarred and blistered from those very pretty shoes and wonder if it's worth it. Pah, of course it is.
I shall wait earnestly for the rest of you to come to your senses.

Tank Girl Tardis

2007-08-29T00:24:00.000-07:00

Having spent a weekend selling books at a Living History event, and reading the newspapers when trade was quiet, my mind has been a jumble of significant historical events and Princess Diana. I still remember where I was when I heard - standing in a towel on my doorstep as my partner of the time arrived and relayed the news in incredulous tones. I’m sure many others do too.
This got me thinking about other notable where were yous, and how much they defined society at the time. JFK. 9/11. Man on the Moon. The end of WWII. What a day that must have been. One of joy, relief, regret, remembrance. The world caught up in a time of change.
The words ‘time machine’ probably conjure up different things to different SciFi fans. For most these days I expect it’s Doctor Who. Being able to travel back in time to any period of history intrigues and mystifies me. I mean, if you could go anywhere, where would you go? Where would you start?
Going forward in time is perhaps an easier task. Maybe only a few weeks - if not only to find out the lottery numbers. (Call me a charlatan, but I’m not sure I want to fast forward 50 years the rate we’re going.)
But going back in time, there are so many things I’d love to experience, witness. Perhaps I should make a list. Give myself boundaries and encourage others to make their own.

1) The building of the pyramids, Egypt. When travelling there a couple of years ago, I was amazed not only by the unequivocal beauty of what I had seen, but the sheer capacity of mankind in the face of adversity. I mean, these people made pillars as wide as Olympic swimming pools.

2) The first journey of the Orient Express - imagine being able to see such landscapes in such luxury. The wonders, the excitement, the hustle and bustle.

3) The discovery of America, with Christopher Columbus. Aside from the Great Potato Discovery, of course, to have travelled so far, and to see this new land on the horizon…

4) The age of the Samurai - Japan during this time and the men who governed and fought for their country intrigue and in many ways inspire me. The castles, the gardens, the armour, the customs. Such devotion and dedication is perhaps unequalled.

5) London, the 1920s. The lifestyle, the style. Decadence and delight.

6) Notable mention - The Brat Pack years. Sinatra, Martin. Vegas, New York. Could anyone be any cooler than Ol’ Blue Eyes?

Of course, beyond these wonderful worlds of adventure, there is one time and place I’d give anything to go back to. Nepal, 1998. The best two weeks of my life. Hiking through the Himalayas with my late father. Sometimes there’s just nothing better than family and a great view.

Not a control freak? Are they sure?

2007-08-23T05:14:00.000-07:00

You Are 28% Control Freak

You have achieved the perfect balance of control and letting go.You tend to roll with whatever life brings, but you never get complacent.

Are You A Control Freak?

Seeing as I have spent much of my working life being told the opposite, I am somewhat flummoxed at these results.
Perhaps that's what you get for leaving these things in charge of someone else... ;-)

Crispbook

2007-08-20T03:57:00.000-07:00

It struck me the other day, whilst Owen and I were swimming up and down at the Ferry debating on why facebook had become quite so compelling, how much I was behind the times in the world of friends. I have taken up both the garish MySpace and the stark Facebook, and dabbled frequently, and then less frequently, with both. Reasons for the dwindling upkeep of these pages seem to be because I am not very good at expanding my 'e-circle', (talk to strangers you say?) and therefore find myself talking to the same people I normally do, and even sit near, except in a diluted form on a public forum.
Now don't get me wrong, I very much appreciate the ease of wall posting, the numerous applications you get to play with (damn, that Movie Quiz is addictive), and even the regular occurence of photos which I would rather die than ever see of me again. I just wonder whether, in the grand scheme of things, I should perhaps be texting, phoning, or even, gasp, seeing these people instead of frittering away the same precious hours sat on a computer in a darkened room, whilst eating crisps.
So from now on, I intend to keep my facebooking in some sort of check - lunchtimes not included of course - I mean what else does one do these days? - and actually go out and see people. I mean that's what life's about, isn't it? That and eating crisps of course.

Bring on the Crusher

2007-08-14T03:51:00.000-07:00

Now I'm assuming most people I know won't have seen this, so I thought I would share with you my new tank girl discovery – the mammoth beast that is the CRUSHER. The Crusher is an unmanned ground vehicle that operates autonomously in off-road terrain. Or as described by The Olive-Drab blog: "it's a six-ton behemoth that moves out, up and over whatever gets in its way."
Designed by the National Robotics Engineering Center at Carnegie-Mellon University, it looks absolutely awesome. But words don't quite cut it with things like this, so here it is:

Now I for one would love to drive this thing. Anyone for a whizz round the carpark?

i-swim

2007-08-11T04:38:00.000-07:00

Is it odd to get quite so excited to discover that you can now waterproof your i-pod, and indeed buy 'pre-made' waterproof mp3 players?
Having started swimming a few months ago, and after finally acknowledging the fact that I am now addicted, (having gotten hideously antsy when I went away and found the hotel pool closed for maintenance) this to me seems like a wonderful idea. The monotonous up and down, up and down just sometimes needs that little bit extra to get you through. I mean don't get me wrong, there are some great people watching opportunities. The gold lame bikini woman (no, dear, not really, not in a leisure centre), the beached whale, who thrashes around whole-heartedly, yet barely gets 5 yards and drowns the entire pool (please go home, please), the gay couple who swim along together eyeing up each half decent six pack (such a refreshing change), and the Damart lady, whose collection of floral swimwear knows no bounds.
However, sometimes, there is nothing quite like The Eye of the Tiger, Fortunate Son, or indeed 'The Boss,' when you hit that wall.