Nike FuelBand

Yes, I received one for Christmas and a few days on, I'm still addicted.  Actually, late December/early January is always a time where I become very aware of how lardy and unfit I am.  This house is a monument to the sheer amount of fitness equipment and DVDs which have fallen by the wayside, more's the pity. 

If nothing else, it spurs me on to move my carcass much more and gaining a five day steak on the Nike+ website is very rewarding indeed - by streak, I mean achieving my goals on consecutive days, not me taking my clothes off to exercise - ugh, no - I'd end up with two black eyes. 

As you can see from the picture, I managed to hit my daily NikeFuel burn rate of 3000 and have the green lights to prove it.   Now, let's see if it makes me lose any weight over the next few weeks....it's such a shame that it doesn't link to Android devices.  Pah.

The End of The Summer School Holidays is Nigh...

...oh thank goodness - school returns on Thursday.  Yeah, it's been an incredibly long summer, mainly because my mother (who tends to do quite a lot of the filling in childcare during vacations) has recently had a hip replacement and is unable to move a great deal, let alone run after a lively six-year-old.  I am currently looking after my son and a friend's similarly aged daughter and well, it's OK I suppose but I cannot imagine having a whole brood of children, unless of course I wanted to start up my own singing group?  Other people's kids are strange, I never really know how to deal with them and their presence seems to make my own child's behaviour rather strange.  That said, I like him to have playdates as he's a bit of a strange lonely soul and socialising is good for him, however I really don't like my stuff being flung around the house by nosey primary school age children.

Talking of such, I've just ventured into the living room and yes, it's ransacked.  Maybe this is a good reason not to bother tidying any more?  You'd better believe it.  Back to work tomorrow - for a rest - at least my colleagues don't pester me for Nobbly Bobbly lollies on the hour, every hour.*

*It's Mars Bar ice creams usually; Cornettos on a Thursday.

The Cultureseekers Trip to Constable Country

I must confess to being a bit nervous as I approached London's Liverpool Street Station where I was meeting a group of Cultureseekers to board the train to Manningtree in order to explore the region of North Essex and South Sussex which is known as 'Constable Country' after the famous landscape artist of the 18th Century.  I need not have worried, everyone was really friendly and welcoming, plus there were quite a few newbies there too.  We boarded the train which terminated at Great Yarmouth, so it was really crowded with holidaymakers(!) and after fifty five minutes we arrived at our stop.  Although it is located an hour from London it's very rural indeed and there was nothing but countryside plus a few sheep and cows. 

We walked to the famous Flatford Mill, location of Constable's most famous painting which you may know by its alternative title of 'Bloke Who Gets a Cart Stuck In a Stream'.  The millpond was very green and housed a number of rivercraft and some glorious waterfowl, which I stated did not belong to the Queen because they weren't located on The Thames.  That was an interesting fact I'm sure you'll agree and such knowledge will undoubtedly net me a huge amount of friends in the short, medium and long term. 

The guide, Mark, was very knowledgeable and had laminated copies of the various paintings which he used to illustrate the locations at various points along the way.  It was fairly tiring though and I'm pretty darn fit, although I say so myself.

It was a great day, I met a whole load of lovely people along the way.  I must confess that I did get a bit bored by the end of it as there are only so many landscape scenes that you can say 'splendid' about, but that's me all over: I have the attention span of a dyspraxic goldfish. 

Socialising With The Cultureseekers

Regular readers of this blog whom I can only assume have built up some kind of idea of my personality will know that I like to get out and about as much as I can, family commitments allowing.  However, I keep finding that I'm getting let down on a fairly regular basis, I'm not sure whether this is an age thing, but it's getting more difficult to schedule things with friends for a myriad of reasons and I for one am getting really annoyed about it.  Anyway, not being one who mopes around for long I decided to search the web to see what alternatives there were and lo and behold I found an umbrella organisation called Meetup: http://www.meetup.com/find/ which brings together a whole load of social networks across the world.  I am using the term 'social network' in its purest form, I mean actually physically meeting people, not simply posting banal things on Facebook to a group of people you probably don't really have much in common with, let alone actually see any longer.

The group which really appealed is called the Cultureseekers: http://www.meetup.com/CityCultureSeekers/ who are based in London and organise a whole host of events in and around the capital, some are day trips to places a bit further out, but generally it's fairly London centric.  Wow! I thought as I scrolled through the calendar of events, that's exactly what I'm after, so I downloaded the app and signed up, ironically using my Facebook log in.  Full membership is £10 per annum, but I think that's very reasonable as many of the group events save you money in the long run and it's not really run for profit.  I signed up for a trip to Constable Country on Saturday, 17th August and read my next post to discover how that panned out....

Geeky Motherhood: Part One

I suppose I only really write about my experiences of motherhood in passing in all of my blogs, but sometimes it's unquantifiable and I feel the need to share.  At the time of writing it's getting on for the half-way point of the long school summer holidays and I'm feeling it fairly acutely this year because my mother (who provides cover during vacations) has recently been in hospital for a hip replacement, so it's been a bit of an uphill struggle this season.  We have been for a visit to London today and although he's been fairly good, his constant jumping up and down, enormous bursts of energy and quite frankly, standard autistic behaviour is rather wearing at times and can drive a parent to distraction. 

It's strange, I suppose I always wanted a child but wasn't really as obsessed as many of my peers were; although saying that I attended an all girls secondary modern where at least four pupils were mothers by the time they'd sat their GCSEs.  Many of my contemporaries' children are in their teens now, but I always knew that if I'd had a child in my teens or twenties that it would have compromised who I was in so many ways.  I did time it right though when the time came: I'd been married for a quite a few years, we had a house, I'd completed my degree and had attained enough ground in my career to level off a bit, so there you go, both practical and romantic. 

Not knowing many people in this borough, despite having grown up here, left then returned a few years later, myself and The Duke signed up to NCT Antenatal Classes.  For those not in the know the NCT stands for the National Childbirth Trust and in a nutshell it's a bit of a middle-class yummy mummy club where the emphasis is on natural childbirth, breastfeeding and attending nearly new sales in drafty church halls.  I seem to recall that I quipped in an early class, when posed the question "what made you decide to have children?" that we had a spare room in the house and we may was well fill it with a child instead of a komodo dragon.  Oh dear, that's not the way, is it?

I won't use this blog post as a ritual slagging off of the NCT because I did later become co-chair of my local branch, well for about six months before my return to work compromised my attendance at committee meeting, but I must categorically state that they do provide a great service in the community.  As for the antenatal classes, well unless you like sitting around on a hard chair talking about the things you're planning to pack in your overnight bag, don't bother and if you're not interested in seeing pictures of women across the globe breastfeeding whilst sitting backwards on a donkey - stay away.  As for the lesson where the teacher smeared Colman's English Mustard on a plastic doll to replicate the texture of baby poo - well, forget it.  It made me laugh a few years later when Dawn French's midwife character in the peerless BBC comedy Psychoville was obsessed with a stunt baby whom she dubbed 'My Little Freddie Fruitcake'. 

Finally: although published a couple of years after I'd given birth, this book is an invaluable source of wit and wisdom and is derived from the excellent Mumsnet website.  Actually, I can recommend the online stuff too because I've never been trolled on there and that's rare in this day and age.

The London Transport Museum Gift Shop

A couple of weeks ago I went for a wander in the LTM's gift shop just to see what kind of wonderful things they stocked in there.  I'd never ventured upstairs before, but despite the heat, I'm glad that I did as they had a huge array of transport-related books up there, plus posters and maps galore - ergo, it was brilliant.  I must admit that I already owned some of the books they had in stock, sad geek that I am, but I leafed through a few others:

There's something about a book of maps which really floats my boat; yesterday I managed to pick up a copy of Metro-Land from a bookshop and it contains the plans from the original Metropolitan Line which looks vastly different from the current purple line's topography.  I also thought that the descriptions and prices of the suburban houses was also rather quaint, considering how much they'd be worth today, especially as quite a few of them nestle in the 'stockbrokers' belt'.  It seemed to accompany Betjemen's seminal documentary, which I've seen recently repeated on BBC4.

I thought the pictures detailed above were aesthetically pleasing and would be happy to decorate Duchess Towers with them.  There were drawers full of posters which could also be framed, especially the art deco ones.  Some of the station architecture on lines such as the far reaches of the Piccadilly are rather wonderful and are incredibly futuristic, echoing the images of UFOs and creations derived from worlds outside our own.  Truly amazing.

The Herne Bay Telly-Go-Round

People often ask me why I like odd things and my reply would be - life's strange, so enjoy it.  Anyway, I do see the bizarre and the surreal popping up pretty much everywhere and quite frankly, I revel in it.  One of my current obsessions, of which I have many - the TV quiz Pointless being one of them, ditto my new Philips electronic flosser (don't ask...)

Right, the Herne Bay Telly-Go-Round is a local phenomenon - it's a kind of sideshow attraction funded and run by the local Rotary Club and is basically an automaton featuring past and present childrens' TV characters and is rather nicely filmed in this YouTube clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoPhJmRwzXU  My son absolutely adores it, as do quite a few people who meander down the seafront, I think it's because it's a mixture of rather quaint poorly-maintained figures and hugely inaccurate models - i.e. Thomas The Tank Engine is painted the wrong shade of blue and sports a face daubed with icky grey paint.  Sometimes they'll add another plush model, but the remainder of the characters will be sadly ignored as a result.

I've taken a few rather rubbish pictures on my phone to illustrate the point:

T

They're all rather shabby aren't they?  Is that a bit of a Viz 'up the arse corner' scene I spy with the Fraggles?  Obscene, especially in front of the kiddies.  Also, who on earth was/is 'Wiggli Willi'?  The only reference I can find using Google's safe search function is an arachnid character who helps children with their counting?  I mean, don't get me wrong, part of the reason I go on breaks to the seaside is for a bit of 'Wiggli Willi', well that and copious amounts of ice cream anyway....

In Praise of Geekiness, Especially of the Male kind

Yes, on a blog which is pretty much centres around being a female geek I am going to write about how much I adore male nerds and geeks.  I guess it's all part and parcel of what suits your own personality, but I very much doubt whether I'd date, hang around with or indeed marry anyone who didn't fit into that category.  Let's take ourselves back to the days of the early 1990s, I was studying for my A-Levels at a local sixth form college and emerging from a single-sex secondary modern girls' school I am dragged, kicking and screaming into a mixed environment with a whole bunch of boys who formerly attended my school's brother institution.  It's nice and it made lessons such as geography, rather fun.

So, the boys are nice, but on the whole, they're pretty samey - apart from one that is.  I won't name him because he's all grown up now and married with children, but to the 17-year-old me he was fantastic and best of all, and quite frankly, rather strangely, he used to sport two badges on his jacket - one depicting Matthew Kelly's face and the other....Henry Kelly (of Going for Gold Fame).  So, why on earth would that impress any girl and indeed me?  Well, I grew up in the London suburbs and as we all know, they're rather uniform by nature, everyone has to conform to a certain ideal and any kind of oddness is stamped out of you either by name calling at school or physical bullying.  Of course, like most adolescent relationships it only lasted until the first year of his degree, but it's always worth setting people free to follow their own paths in life.

Since then, well I must admit that my most successful relationships have been with nerds, but don't pity me as I think that it's great.  "Blokes need a hobby" said my Mother, and I hate to admit it, but she's right and shed or house space must be cleared as a result.  India Knight wrote about the very same thing in last week's Sunday Times supplements and I agree.  There is a higher concentration of males on the autistic spectrum then women and I think it's because everyone sits on the spectrum, but quite a few of the attributes are mainly male - such as an obsession with comedy or say, sports results.  So, nerds of the world rejoice - us women don't all want fake tanned, bleached teeth muscled torsos in any way, shape or form.  Surely, as in everything in life, personality rules out?

PS - the image if of my favourite mug which is a bone china number depicting an early tube map.  Sad?  Yes I am and proud of it.

Postscript: can I just say that some nerds are twats of the highest order?  Yeah, it's my blog and I can express whatever views I bloody well like.

Some weeks are bad weeks

Yes they are and isn't that the truth?  Well, the weekend was a good one but I made the mistake of commenting on a Facebook friend's status and lo and behold, some of his rather stupid friends started being sarcastic back, I replied and then....well, I didn't read the thread, I merely deleted it.  I haven't a clue what happens to people when they get online - do they really think that the people behind the smartphone, tablet or laptop don't really exist in reality? 

On Tuesday I performed in my choir concert and although it was fairly enjoyable, I didn't really feel part of it.  I don't think it helps that I'm quite a bit older than the majority of the women and cannot get quite as excited as they do about stuff. 

On Thursday I had issues at work; a colleague whom I'd been bantering with suddenly turned odd and asked me to leave him alone.  Perhaps I went too far?  I'd always thought that it was reciprocal, but clearly not?  It's getting more and more difficult to tread the correct line between professionalism and fun in the corporate world these days.

Today was much better as I wasn't working and all of my social media interactions were good - we've got a group of five caterpillars as part of a butterfly game I'm reviewing on a major retailer's site and I have named the bugs after the five members of the seminal 80s band Five Star.  They're all doing rather well and Steadman seems to be clinging to the lid somewhat - good for him!  One of my Facebook friends commented upon the picture I'd uploaded stating that he would want to recreate the scene from Going Live when a caller rang up to ask 'Five Star Were So Shit?'  I replied that I'd be raising a nest of spiders and would name them after members of Matt Bianco.

Finally, I saw an amazing sight en route home from the shopping mall - the newly refurbished 'hobo benches' as I've dubbed them hosted something rather wonderful - a tramp eating a trifle.  Now that's something you don't see every day, isn't it?

Monday: Shlepping around Asda, Robert Palmer and The PSBs

One of the great things about working part-time is that once I've dropped the Earl off at the school gates I can mosey along to the shops, which at 8:51am are usually pretty darn empty.  One of my least favourite things about shopping is crowds and supermarkets are the worst, especially in stores such as Asda where gits tend to either block whole aisles with their trolleys or plough straight into me whilst conversing on their bejewelled iPhones to an unknown person about something important, such as the cost of shellac nails.  Anyway, today I didn't buy any food items, but purchased the items you see below (actually there were a few other things for The Earl, but I don't really want to write too much about him on t'internet.)

So, Duchess, why on earth have you  bought a pink segmented lunchbox?  Well, it was on a rollback and I thought that it would prove useful in a picnic situation; also, I think I'm gaining a fetish for plastic storage, don't ask me why, but one of my kitchen cupboards is full of it.  Er, the facecloths are because they're a great way of cleansing one's face whilst carrying out simultaneous make up removal and microdermabrasion.  The hair colour is because mine looks like a choc ice has been placed on the top and I'm choosing the darker hues of blonde these days because I think that it more closely resembles my natural colour and the regrowth is better.  I could write about the dish brush, but that's beyond boring - zzzzzz.

I am sitting here listening to the greatest hits of Robert Palmer on YouTube; I seem to recall that he was royally taken the mickey of in an episode of The Mary Whitehouse Experience back in the early 1990s because I recall my brothers both laughing their smelly socks off about it.   I have always liked Robert Palmer's blend of blue eyed soul fused with synth and steel drums; I think this sound emerged because he was on Island Records, along with label mates Bob Marley, U2 and possibly Pulp, although I'd have to look that one up.  I recall that we were moving from a rented flat to our house on the day he died back in 2003 and later reading that he was buried in Switzerland in a designer suit (er, he was probably encased in a coffin too, the Swiss are very precise about such things.)

If we're talking about music, you're probably more than aware that I like 80s stuff and one of my favourite albums from that era is the Pet Shop Boys' Introspective album which was issued in 1988.  My best friend at the time had it on vinyl and we used to sit in her room listening to it whilst sticking mousse in her hair prior to getting the diffuser out (a total retro cliche...) My favourite track was Left to My Own Devices and I still love it, the lyrics are pretty much me to a tee.  The version of I'm Not Scared is brilliant too and Patsy Kensit's short-lived band Eighth Wonder had a hit with the single in the same year if my memory serves me right.  That was of course, before she appeared on Who Do You Think You Are? and wept copiously about her family's criminal past which I'm pretty sure was well-known prior to the researchers digging the relevant paperwork up. 

 

Comedians' Autobiographies

When asked why I like reading about comedians' lives I could give you a myriad of reasons why.  Mainly because I'm a bit obsessed about what makes funny people tick and usually it appears to be a combination of a shy/exhibitionist nature, manic depression and overall, an outsiders' feeling of looking inside from a distant vantage point.  Recently I've read/am reading both David Mitchell's Back Story and David Walliams' Camp David, both autobiographies and both insightful in different ways. 

So, why's that then?  Well, of the two Mitchell writes the best prose and his insights into how he, a minor public schoolboy from Oxford made his way, via the Cambridge Footlights onto the UK Panel Show circuit is certainly a compelling one and best of all, he's intertwined it by talking about his strolls through London, which is a explanation for the slightly ambiguous title - the back story covers both his background and indeed the reason why his GP suggested regular constitutionals around London. 

Walliams' book shouldn't be sidelined though - it's quite different in tone and rather chatty.  It tells his story from birth, through grammar school, The National Youth Theatre, Bristol University and then the slow, clanky road to fame with his comedy partner Matt Lucas.  I think I asked The Duke to borrow it from the library because it contained some derogatory information about my lovely Richard Osman, but it pretty much boiled down to a personality clash between Lucas and Osman which led to an argument over a potential show at Hat Trick Productions.  Fair enough.  I haven't finished it yet but I am enjoying reading about the backgrounds of various comedy performers he writes about such as Simon Pegg, Jessica Stevenson and Katy Carmichael, who all later became stars of the seminal sitcom Spaced.  Sometimes when he writes about various arguments he's had with people he's worked with over the years it all becomes a bit Alan Partridgey - i.e. 'needless to say I had the last laugh'.  It's still a very insightful read though.

Sinclair ZX Spectrum Games

Oh Duchess, why art thou so geeky?  Answer?  I really couldn't tell you - perhaps it was because I was the only girl sandwiched between two brothers or simply because: I just am.  Actually, my brother visited this morning and told me all about the ZX Spectrum Minder game which is available via walkthrough through the magical medium of YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X42BUfzLT-I

So, what's it all about?  Well, the Minder game pretty much aped the crazy antics of the popular late 1970s-1990s Thames TV show - i.e. it was a bit of duckin' and divin', wheelin' and dealin' and any other kind of activity which forces a writer to forgo the end of a word and replace it with an apostrophe.  Basically you had to buy and sell items to the various dealers whilst keeping Terry sweet and avoiding the hassle of Sgt Chisholm.  The pixellated graphics were very 80s, but that's par for the course.  Probably the best bit was the fist coming towards you when a dealer got 'turned over' but the 'filth' and you (aka Arthur Daley) got a knuckle sandwich as a result; this was unless, of course, you paid the faithful Terry to mind you for the princely sum of £50 per day.  Oh, memories!

Sunday: Charity Shop Window Displays and Old Cockney Ways

Well, you know me - I love to wander about aimlessly.  On Friday I was meandering around en route to the hairdresser and happened to look upon the window display in one of the many charity shops situated on the high street and here's what I saw:

Wowzers!  I think I've mentioned before that I have a family history of liking tacky ornaments?  I think it all dates back to my Grandmother and probably my Great-Grandmother before her.  I seem to recall that my Grandparents' place boasted a whole host of these gaudy lovelies, including a pair of ceramic dogs, which were claimed by my Mother's cousin but as she's been out of favour for a great number of years now, the request was ignored, lest that they were worth a great deal on the open market(?)  I think it's safe to say that I'm a third generation cockney - although since the BBC TV programme QI smashed the myth about babies being born in Bromley-Le-Bow, it's apparently in the resonance of St-Mary-Le-Bow which is near the City of London - so who's a proper Cockney then?  As part of my University of London History Degree, we studied the history of London (natch), but I was bored out of my skull for a whole ream of all of this and the ex-accountant who recounted all of the peals of the bells in great detail made me want to jump out of the window, I wouldn't take a great deal of notice of the breadth of my knowledge.

I love the detail on the rabbit portrait - they're splendid aren't they?  The china dog is also adorable too.  My Mother-in-law is also a huge fan of tacky ornaments and they dominate the dresser of her London Council Flat.  Ho hum.

Saturday: A Trip to Kensal Green Cemetery

Yesterday myself and The Duke went to Kensal Green Cemetery in north west London.  It was an interesting trip as both of us didn't really know the area particularly well.  It was a lovely day and we were able to take a few photographs, although we didn't spot anybody well-known's grave, which was a shame.

I thought that the Reform Memorial was very interested and included such people as Arnold Toynbee.

Being located in an urban area, there was a lovely view of the nearby gasometers.

This looks like a shed constructed from marble.  Excellent.  I imagine that they're not readily available in B&Q, well maybe in the Superstores? 

Finally, we travelled via a #18 bus (through such sights as Little Venice and The Westway) and foot to a pub called The King's Head which was near Marylebone.  It had some interesting decor which included a series of Royal Portraits on the walls and indeed in the high flush toilet(!)  Two upper middle-class women, whom I'd guesstimate as being mother and daughter turned up at 2:10pm and duly complained about the closure of the upstairs restaurant, the barmaid's strong eastern European accent and the paucity of portions.  Thank goodness that such people still exist in this day and age.  What a treat for us Britons.  God Bless The Queen!

Monday: Why on earth would you need that in the house?

Now, the title of this blog post is something I ask myself on a fairly regular basis.  Take for example this morning - I'm moseying through Asda wondering what would be useful to buy and wouldn't take up too much space, so I'm wandering through the homewear aisle and spy this item:

It's a Tefal 'One Egg Wonder' frying pan for cooking one solitary egg.  Lakeland have sold them for ages, but Asda seem to have acquired some stock.   I honestly thought of buying it, but stopped myself.  Why on earth would I want one?  I mean, fried eggs aren't even my favourite way of cooking the chicken by product - poached for scrambled being my choice du jour.  I agree that's a great idea, but not for me, so I didn't buy it.  End of.

Why am I so tedious?  Answers on a postcard/carrier pigeon to the following address: 'I need to get out more, please help me...'  It's small wonder that I ventured out on loads of first and indeed, last, dates in the 1990s.

Friday: Greater London - The Story of the Suburbs

Last night I attended a talk by genealogist and author Dr Nick Barratt, who is apparently one of the academics behind the popular BBC series Who Do You Think You Are? which personally speaking, I never watch because I find family tree delving really boring; my mother agrees with this view because one of her distant cousins discovered that a great deal of her ancestry featured in, her view, menial jobs such as nightsoilmen (peeps who emptied cess pits) and later on, lavatory attendants.  Anyway, as per usual, I digress - this event was organised by an organisation called Cityread London: http://www.cityreadlondon.org.uk/ who from their website, seem to do an awful lot of good work in conjunction with their funding body, The Arts Council England, The National Lottery and of course, support from various London Boroughs. 

As for the talk itself, well it would be fair to say that I was one of the youngest people in the audience, which I guess, is to be expected.  There were a few oddbods scattered around, for example, the couple sitting next to me were wearing matching anoraks and clutching old Morrison's bags stuffed with old clothing and I thought 'I bet they smell' and indeed, my instinct was correct - they did, an aroma of slightly off fish to be exact.  The woman, like my mother, had decided that a well-fitting bra is not really a high priority in life and clearly intellectual pursuits take precedence and she then started to ramble on about Ruth Ellis, Dr Crippen and other really random topics.  Her husband then started to read, in minute detail, the specific brewery titles on the blown up old shots of the borough which decorated the walls.  Fair enough - however a couple sat in front of me and the man had the worst case of dandruff I have ever seen and being a public sector worker for nearly twenty years now, I can confess that I've seen a lot of flaky skin in my time.  Sort.  It.  Out. 

Sorry, as usual, I've completely rambled off of the topic.  Right - Dr Nick's talk was really interesting and the top line messages were that London's suburbs formed because old settlements got caught up in urban sprawl.  The old manor houses were demolished, the land sold off to developers and every plot equated to one Parliamentary vote.  The most expensive housing tends to be in the west of London because the east is characterised by industry because of the prevailing west to east wind which travels along The Thames.  There was loads of other detail, but I decided to purchase the book at the end of the talk and asked him to sign it, which he duly did.

Hurrah for culture! 

Monday: my dream house

I have a dream house; I won't say exactly where it's located for reasons of security, but I walk past it on a fairly regular basis.  Why do I like it you may ask?  Well, it's a dream - take a look at the castellated writers' turret in the right hand frontage - it's truly amazing.  Also, it's Victorian and best of all, detached.  I have always adored period properties, although I've never really lived in one because I am rubbish at DIY and cannot really afford the upkeep on such an old building.

My aunt lived in a Victorian detached four bedroomed property in Berkshire and my word, wasn't it nice?  It featured three main bedrooms plus a fourth, somewhat smaller and narrower 'maid's room'.  I thought her shabby chic decor was brilliant too - Italian posters (derived from her time living out there), wooden furniture, books galore and just a really nice feeling about it.  I think that personally, I've managed to recreate the shabby, but certainly not the 'chic'.  One thing is true though - I have far too many books cluttering up my shelves, but as I read in one of my mother's 2008 copies of Saga Magazine(!) the other week, Bernard Levin was exactly the same, as was Keith Waterhouse, so I'm clearly in good company.

Easter Monday: The English Seaside #1 - background and sea swimming

So, it's the coldest Easter for about the last, say, thousand years, well at least since records began.  Great.  However, we still ventured down to the coast though and that's inspired this particular blog post.  So, why do you like the English Seaside then?  Well, I kind of grew up on it if I'm honest, well, since my Mother married my Stepfather (SF) in the 1980s they bought his auntie/friend of the family's holiday bungalow on the Kent Coast, which wasn't at a discounted cost as my Mother is quick to state!  It was part of a 1920s holiday bungalow estate which was constructed from a single brick course and therefore unsuitable for use before say, April and indeed after October.

I seem to recall it being quite quaint and it didn't contain a bathroom - merely a scary high flush toilet and a cold room off of that which housed a washbasin, cupboard and fridge(!)  Later on my SF fitted an electric shower and we used to wash ourselves by poking the nozzle out of an open window and rinse off after swimming in the driveway.  Bizarre.  The loft was also full of birds nests, the welsh dresser had severe woodworm and the mattresses were constructed from horse hair.  Still, it was fun.

 When asked why I like sea swimming I'll say this, I just do.  I'm a fairly hardy soul who also used to enjoy splashing around in lidos too, although there are precious few left in London nowadays.  The sea's never crowded and being three minutes run from the bungalow there's no need to carry out that intricate 'wrap a towel around yourself and wriggle out of your clothes' dance on the beach - it's cossie, sarong, rubber swimming shoes (to counteract the stones!) and you're off.  One of my favourite things is to walk into Herne Bay or Whitstable in the morning and return along the sea wall/coastal route with the sea enticingly glinting at me, blue and magical, just waiting for me to run into its welcoming waves.

So, do you like swimming in the nude then?  Er, why do you ask?  Strange question.  OK, yes, I admit it - it's bloody amazing, you feel so primal, so raw and pretty sensual.  I have done it a few times on this coastline, but it's not really allowed and if it causes offence to somebody, it's illegal.  However, once I made a bloke fall off of his bike.  It made me laugh anyway.  I have since sought out suitable locations to bathe au naturel, but they are a bit few and far between - such as the famous Brighton Nudist Beach at Blackrock.  The ponds in Hampstead Heath are also a good place to go, but I read in the Daily Wail last year that they're now full of red crayfish which are proving a bit nippy for those in the nuddy.  I think my best bet at the moment may be to plump for the sessions which take place in the University of London (my alma mater!) pool in Malet Street every Sunday.  Happy days!

Good Friday: Fitness Fever?

It is with a sad heart that I look down at my sagging stomach and say out loud 'something must be done!' and thus it will be.  Despite having owned a Nintendo WiiFit since Christmas, although I've toned up, I've lost naff all weight.  Maybe that's because I'm still eating like a peckish gannet, who knows?  Anyway, it's time and I'll never fit into my Levi's demi curve skinnies size w30/l34 if I continue along this vein, so it all starts today, which quite frankly is a bit silly because it's Easter Sunday in two days time - doh!

Today I embarked on another fitness scheme, dusted down my Davina McCall workout DVDs, put down the mats, donned the trainers and went for it.  It was hard though and try as I might, I can't lunge to save my life, nor can I carry out 'high knees' interval training as it isn't good for me and I've no intention of being pushed around in a wheelbarrow because I've busted my joints good and proper.  I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow with sore limbs, but I don't care.  I'm planning to watch a DVD in a minute and sup a latte, which isn't the best aerobic activity one could ever hope for, but with the Duke and the Earl out visiting the Dowager Duchess in London, I thought it a good use of time, esp as the Duke always asks me to summarise a plot of a film he's not been watching for the past 63 minutes! Men!  However, I think I'll watch My Best Friend's Wedding because we're singing the opening medley from it at choir and I wish to remind myself of it.  I can't say that personally I'm a fan of weddings or indeed wedding-themed films as my own nuptials were pretty spartan - the dress I wore was purchased from BHS, barely fitted (eek!) and ripped during extensive arm waving on the dance floor.

Sunday: Betterware and Phil Collins: Philrotica

'What a strange title for a post!' I've no doubt you'll say, but yes, it's displacement activity to be honest, I could be removing dust from the sitting room or chasing spiders out of the study couldn't I?  But once again, here I am, tap tap tapping away at my laptop wasting time.  Bad housewife!

Anyway: Betterware.  It's great isn't it?  Well, it's a catalogue packed full of things which appear useful, but in reality, probably are not.  Take for example, such things as pet gravestones.  Yes, I've no doubt that some people would find them invaluable and if say, you bury Tiddles in the garden after his demise, you'll be able to locate his exact internment slot just in case you say, move house or just want to exhume him once they've sorted cryogenic regeneration.  The best thing about it are the distributors - phwarrr!!!  The bloke who used to cover this area was stunning: hairy nicotine stained fingers, bad breath and double denim, so pretty much all of my top ten attributes in a life partner.

Finally: Phil Collins - he's amazing isn't he?  No?  Well, however you feel about the balding polymath I feel compelled to tell you about the wonderful blog philrotica - http://www.philrotica.com/  Do check it out, it's brilliant and I just wish that I'd written it, but if I had it wouldn't have been nearly as professional.  Apparently the great man will be releasing/has released a new album.  Hurrah. 

Sunday: rain and waterfowl

Yes, it's Britain and indeed, it's rained all frigging weekend.  Oh, what joy!  Hopefully I'll be able to jettison my Boden Rainy Day mac at some point this year, or maybe not?  It's depressing anyway.

My parents took me and the lad out to a park we haven't been to for ages, actually, I'd hazard a guess at it being at least a decade since I've moseyed through the gates.  It's lovely though and is located in a far superior postcode to my humble one.  They also seem to do quite a few wildlife walks, which is nice:

I love watching Herons? Actually, scratch that, I don't as they're the scourge of anybody with a pond full of fish.  How would you go about such an activity?  Stand on one leg whilst doing so?  Bizarre.

Apparently Canada Geese are a predator to the other wildlife in the park, so you're advised not to feed the blighters, but my word, aren't they aggressive and persistent?  The feathery buggers always chase the smaller wildfowl out of the way.  It reminds me of a time when my older brother was bitten on the bottom in St James's Park by an angry goose which had designs on his lunchtime sandwich.

Talking of ducks, I posed the following question to my Mother 'Why do Bromley's Parks have superior ducks to our own borough's stock and if so, does the council have a 'duck budget'?  If anybody knows the answer to this question, please could they contact me or leave a note on the comments section of the blog?

Finally, I always like to identify any water birds I see around and about and this handy rubric is just the ticket as far as I'm concerned.  My personal fave is the 'tufted duck' which sports an impressive head plumage reminiscent of the late, great Elvis Presley.  I seem to recall a Punt and Dennis sketch where they likened the Duck Billed Platypus to a 'sumo duck', so it always makes me smile. 

Friday: Scriptwriting workshop

Last night I attended a Scriptwriting Workshop in London to try and gain some inspiration to continue my writing career, which has now been dabbled with for the past three years without a great deal of success.  The ethos of the teaching was simple: just do it and we carried out quite a few exercises, such as the one I've pictured below:

.

It was a direct record of a conversation I'd overheard on the anticlockwise Circle Line the self same evening.  In case you can't read it, which I imagine you cannot, it concludes with one bloke saying to another that the bedroom in the flat he used to rent contained the sum total of twenty two plug sockets.  Why on earth his friend was interested in this rather bizarre fact, I do not know, but he relayed it anyway.

The only other notable thing to say is that I was impressed by one of the other delegates stories: she was a chef and met up with her recent ex in a swish cafe in Soho to talk things over.  They were eating those large, posh Jammie Dodgers and she plunged her knife into the jam heart centre of the biscuit which caused her to utter 'that's what you've done to me' - he then responded by putting his arms around her and apparently they're back together.  I love hearing stories of that nature!

Monday: Spring is sprung(ing), crocuses and London Underground Design

Apparently Spring officially begins on March 1st, so there you go, the new season's begun.  Hurrah!  It's still cold though and I wish I'd worn a longer coat this morning because my poor middle was a little chilly.  Anyway, the crocuses are out and that's great, isn't it?  Here's a picture:

This piece of grass is just around the corner from all of the new streetworks which are currently taking place - I noticed this morning that they've replaced both of the benches which sit alongside the church and Asda.  I have often dubbed these benches 'tramptastic' because they've often got a well-refreshed gentleman (or lady) of the road sitting on them, which is nice for passers by, I'm sure you'll agree?

I have a new book to review, it's called London Underground By Design and although I've only had a little flickette through it so far I can tell that I'll love it.  It contains loads of images including my favourite: cross sections of stations.  I was only saying to my husband, The Duke, yesterday that I'd love to see a cut away image of Bank Station in London because of the sheer complexity of the civil engineering. 

Talking of tubes, which I think I'm entitled to because a) it's my blog and b) it's a geeky one, I ventured the full length eastwards of the Central Line on Saturday afternoon.  "Why did you do that?"  You may inquire and yes, you'd be well within your rights to do so, but hey ho. I journeyed from Tottenham Court Road (which is still very much in transition due to the continuing Crossrail Project) to Epping.  I guess that most parts of suburbia look very similar, but it was nice to see how rural it was.  I've often wanted to travel on the restored Epping to Ongar section of the line because it sounds fascinating and I'm intrigued by closed sections of lines.  Apparently Ongar Station used to house a rare form of scorpions, but I read that years ago and will have to investigate further. 

Monday: pondering half-term, Metroland and other stuff

Right, welcome to my new blog - I thought I'd start one which wasn't so intrinsically linked with shoes and would therefore give me the scope to discuss other things.  It's half-term and don't I know it?  The Earl has just finished going through all of the different sounds and beats on the nearby keyboard and has luckily grown tired of it and moved onto pastures new - he's now gone out into the garden to bother the fauna and flora out there.

He's been to two playgrounds in two days: a veritable crawl if you please.  Nanny may take him to another tomorrow so he's a lucky soul.  I noticed that Wicksteed still produce the playground equipment - I seem to recall that they used to in the good old days when slides were higher, tarmac was the ground cover and the Witch's hat hadn't been banned.  I've pictured one below to illustrate this wonderful thing, although I hasten to add that I am not the copyright owner, nor did my childhood exist in a sepia haze.  Actually, talking of Wicksteed, a colleague of mine said that there was a place called 'Wicksteed Slide World' in Kettering, which I find amusing to say the least!  It apparently still exists: http://www.wicksteedpark.co.uk/About-Charles-Wicksteed.aspx

Metroland huh?  Yes, I'm talking Betjeman, the late Sir John to be precise.  Having bought Mother some of his poetry and writings book for her birthday and she loved it.  Later on in the day we watched Metroland again and thought that it was really good.  It's made me want to head up to north London and check out the Met line once more - maybe I'll purchase a zones 1 to 6 travelcard and do exactly that one day?