Nomad Down

Note to me

2012-01-19T20:02:00.001Z

You are more sure about who you are now. You know what you like, you know what you don’t like. Be certain and go forward with realistic ideas of what you want yourself to be like.

Discard the baggage: Get rid of all the crap. Clear out your wardrobe of all those things you think you might wear ‘at some point’. Get rid of your issues. You know your bad points, don’t focus on them. Throw them out. Have a moment and truly decide what you want to take forward. What did you not do in your 20s that you want to do still? That new tattoo? Dye your hair blonde? Now’s the time to do it. You’re a grown up. You haven’t changed your mind, it’s going to happen. Why wait any longer?

Cling to the people you love. Not ‘cling’ in that weird needy way , but hang on to those you love. They’re still with you, you still love them. They get you now. Make it so you will be friends for longer: Invest. Show them you care about their friendship and you’re a trustworthy kinda gal. No more game-playing, be a truly inspiring person to be around.

Make realistic plans but dream big. You know what you’re good at now, so focus on your good points. Those things you’re not so good at and you don’t really like doing? Maybe we get rid of those now. Spend more time focusing on what makes you YOU. What can you contribute? How can you help people? How can you make our world better? What makes you stand out? Do it. Do it well, and make plans for how to carry on doing it into the future.

Dream big and make it happen. You’re 30. You are an adult. You can do what you want. NO REALLY. You can do what you want. You choose to be with your husband, you choose to be a mother, you choose to live where you live. These are choices you made for a reason. Move on with these, don’t get complacent. You want a change? You make it happen. Realistically plan your big dreams. Step by step: Baby bites – what do you have to do to get there? You’re doing pretty well, but keep your dreams alive. Don’t get lost in the small stuff.

Work on the important bits. Your relationships, your health, your mind and your body. Be hard-working because you will never regret it. Don’t be a cheater, don’t be a liar. Live up to who you want to be and be the person you want to be proud of.

Talk to your parents, talk to your siblings. Make the time. Life goes on, but they are precious to you. You love them. They love you. Show it more.

It is never too late. Every year something new and surprising can happen. Live like you’re excited, look forward to every day. Don’t count down the hours. Every hour is special and only you can make it that way. Use your brain, use your feelings. Be sensitive, be wise. BE YOU.

Don’t be embarrassed. It’s time to not care. Stop trying to be cool. The coolest people are the ones who don’t have to try. So maybe you’re not the prettiest, so maybe you’re not the most intelligent, so maybe you don’t have the longest hair or the cutest butt. You will not be the one with all the cool dresses and the millions of shoes, you are not boho, you are not glamorous. If you dress up, feel hot. If you dress down, feel comfy. Take good pictures, spend time pampering. It’s not about what people think, it’s about who you are. Besides – your husband thinks you’re hot. That’s good enough. Be the best of who you are and there’s something in that. Nobody wants a carbon copy of a cool person. Besides, remember: You’re 30. We’re past that now.

Sing more. Run more. Buy more candles. Write more. Use longer words. Listen to more music. Laugh more. Relax more. Kiss more. Talk more. Buy nice pens. Acquire some art. Wear your hair down. Wear more nail polish. Bake. Think.

Breathe deep.

Last day of my twenties

2011-12-13T09:09:00.003Z

Today is the end of my twenties. I feel a lot stronger about this than I ever thought I would. 30 is.... an adult. 30 is seriously an adult. I am not an adult. I seriously do feel like I'm pretending and the 14 year old teenager inside me is giggling away, excited that she's getting away with the pretense.

My 20s saw me starting and finishing university, working at Starbucks, solidifying my addiction to caffeine, meeting my best friend, working with my best friend, moving in with my best friend, having my best friend live in a different city, eating lots of chocolate, waitressing, moving in with my boyfriend, getting proposed to by my boyfriend in Paris, marrying my boyfriend, moving into a house with my husband, deciding to have a baby, having a baby, being proud of myself, cutting a fringe, growing my fringe out, dying my hair blonde, dying my hair red, gaining lots of weight, getting pale and pasty, losing lots of weight (post wedding..DOH.), learning that I enjoy cycling, cycling to work, moving to London, loving London, temping in the city, being a legal secretary, working for a national charity, being a trustee of a charity, attending interviews and breaking my heart, working for an international children's charity, going out, discovering how much I love eating out, wearing heels and walking home from nights out, wearing bangles, wearing massive hoop earrings, going to a family wedding in Japan, organising a work trip to India, falling in love with India, opening a school in Namibia, falling in love with Namibia, interrailing twice with my boyfriend, falling in love with red wine and duck in France, eating too much cream and wine in Italy, souvlaki and sunshine in Greece, taking a 24 hour ferry, honeymooning in Greece, holidayed in Tunisia, Gran Canaria, playing games to waste time, tapas-ing and sangria in Spain, camping, taking driving lessons, taking my driving test, passing my driving test, buying a Classic Mini, driving a classic mini, buying a Jeep Cherokee, driving a Hate Tank (Jeep Cherokee), visiting family in America, buying my wedding dress in America, carrying my wedding dress as hand luggage home, being pregnant, seeing many plays, watching my husband act, loving my husband, watching my baby grow, creating a family, wanting a dog, buying a dog, loving a dog, being annoyed at my dog, missing the Philippines, missing people, missing my family, discovering Skype, joining Facebook, writing a blog, taking millions of photos, learning I love to jog, discovered black eyeliner, stopped going to church, started going back to church, discovered the importance of extended family, trust myself, fell in love with folk music, watched lots of movies, watched Lost and 24, watched every episode of Friends, got bored of Friends…….

And here I am turning 30. A lot can happen in a decade.

Shallowness

2011-12-05T19:50:00.003Z

Why, sometimes, am I weirdly jealous of people I have no real reason to be jealous of?

Why do I look at their pictures and get lost in a world of 'I wish I was....'.

In truth, I don't want to be anyone else or look like them, or have blonde hair, or have curly hair, or be short, or be able to wear 4 inch heels, or be able to lead a band as a singer, to be that confident or be outgoing and silly and whimsical and talented and .....

Oh yeah, I do.

Time to grow up? I think so. Just tell my juvenile jealousy that.

The job situation

2011-11-30T17:44:00.004Z

I got an interview for that job I wanted. I didn't get it. Which is gutting, and demoralising, and all things that make you feel like crawling up in your flannel sheets and feather duvet and saying 'no' to life for a little while.

I had a week to prep, and prep I did. I gave a 10 minute presentation which I KNOW was amazing. The interview went so well. In my prep work, I covered all grounds for potential questions and what the best thing to say would be. I rounded the troops - gathered information from people who knew more than me. I had an army of 'you can do it's!' behind me.

I'm gutted because it was perfect. Well, at least right now I feel like it was. It was a huge step up for me, but one that I realise now I am MORE than ready to take. I want it. I want to work hard, to make a difference, I really really thought I had it in the bag.

A couple of things - I know that I gave them a lot to think about during the interview. I'm good at reading people, and they liked me. There was a vibe in the room. We were on the same page. We were throwing ideas back at each other, there was a buzz.

At the end of the interview, asking a few questions about the organisation and asking the trustee the reasons behind her working for the charity, I mentioned flexible working and family friendly policies. Their faces dropped. I know that legally they are not allowed to take motherhood into consideration while hiring someone, but I'm pretty sure the rejection of me had something to do with that. I do understand that whoever succeeded in getting the role will have had more experience, perhaps gave a better interview ---- but I just had the feeling the whole way through that it was going well. You know, when you know? I don't meant to be cocky. But then I came out with the mother thing and I could see it wasn't going to happen.

So I came home and held my son, cuddled him close and wondered if I shouldn't have mentioned anything. By law, if you are hired by someone and you apply for flexible working, they have to give it to you unless there is some reason they can't. And it has to be a pretty valid reason. I thought to myself 'should I have kept it on the down-low till they offered me the job?'..

I looked at Milo and guilt clenched my insides. How could I neglect to mention him? How could I pretend he didn't exist? I need a job where I'm not only allowed to talk about him, but they are more than willing to let my motherhood be a part of who I am and the job that I do. There's no way I'm keeping silent about my boy like there is something to be ashamed of. You know what? I'm a mom, and I can do this job, and I'm allowed to work different hours because I will rock at it, because I am the best candidate, and YOU KNOW WHAT? Milo makes me the better candidate and a better person.

So, yes the job was perfect. Everything about it seemed so right for me, and I wanted it so very badly. But this is life, and I move on and I get over it and I look at my family and my home and I breathe deeply and stop. Life is all of this that I have. Be alive and live in that.

The thing about motherhood is...

2011-11-18T09:45:00.003Z

What I wasn’t expecting was to fall absolutely head over heels, infatuation-type love with my baby. I was full of excited adrenaline. I couldn’t sleep for 2 days, even though I’d been through labour and really quite frankly needed to. I wanted to watch him sleep. I wanted to hold him really close to me. I wanted to cuddle and snuggle and be with him every second of the day and night.

I suppose it is the hormones, but really – it feels amazing. That’s one thing people don’t tell you about becoming a mother. You hear of sacrifice, of diapers, of no sleep, of the trials and tribulations. But you know what’s crazy? And please believe me when I say this because I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life:

You are so in love with this bundle that you would do ANYTHING for them and it is not difficult. Poop, sick, no sleep… I did not for the life of me care one bit. This little guy was my new everything.

There are a couple weird things that have to factor in to this. For one, your new relationship with your partner. This was a humdinger. They tell you your relationship changes - but it’s really quite difficult to explain, and it truly is not a negative change. But, there is another little being in your relationship. Another person that both of you love with all of your hearts/souls/minds. This is strange; particularly if you’ve been in a relationship for a long time (I had been with my hubby for 11 years). We were used to being each other’s ONE. We were in it together; we loved each other as no other. But then this little guy came along and I was instantly IN LOVE. There were now two, and for the first few months of a tiny baby’s life, it’s difficult to figure out how to ‘split’ your love in two.

Another weird thing I’ve been thinking is that when we have another baby – how will I love it as much as Milo? I don’t think there is physically enough love in the world for me to love more. How is it going to be possible? I’ve been told that it just happens, but in a weird, worried way, I think I can’t possibly love another human being the way I love Milo. The love is so instantaneous, so overwhelming that it is just a part of me. I can never complain, I can never get annoyed, I can never not want to be with him. He is the best thing ever. Period.

So for those who want to know what it’s like to have a baby: It’s like falling in love. It’s pure, it’s beautiful, it’s heart-wrenching, it’s all-consuming. You can’t eat, you’re full of excitement and wonder, you cry easily and often. Your heart opens and grows and explodes with the love that now comes easily to you. And you suddenly realise you have to be the best you FOR THEM. And you are more than willing to do it for the rest of your life.

Yeah, that didn't work.

2011-11-17T16:51:00.004Z

So much for blogging once a day....

Today I am

Organizing a baby shower for my sis-in-law for Saturday (nothing like procrastinating on important family stuff).
Looking after my sick and teething (molars) son.
Working from home (copy-writing, editing).
Craving an eggnog latte. Can't be bothered leaving the house.
Trying to not think about unpayable bills.
Neglecting my poor dog (who hasn't been out on a walk for.... I don't know how long)
Designing a Christmas card for the charity I volunteer for.
Searching high and low for the snot-sucker I lost last night to suck bucket-loads of snot from my son's nose.
Anxiously wondering how long after the closing date of the job I applied for (today) I may or may not hear from them about an interview.
Feeling guilty that my child hasn't been to the park or anything play-orientated since he's been sick and since I've used him being sick as an excuse to stay inside.
Checking Facebook way too much.
Mainly eating toast because there's literally nothing else for me to eat (don't worry, my child is eating well).
Yet again putting off listening to CD selection a dear friend gave me for my listening pleasure (only 3 months ago).
Leaving no time for my brain or emotions or anything like that. (What am I, superwoman?)

SAHM Wednesday

2011-11-09T19:55:00.005Z

Today was my mommy day. How did I celebrate this? Well, mainly by keeping my PJs on (ALL DAY.. check me out!), making Milo laugh by chasing him around the house, de-fleaing my dog (this was definitely my highlight) and generally bumming around and drinking far, far too much coffee. We did not leave the house, and I am not sorry.

I am sat here, smelling the garlicy, parsley-y chicken Conrad is cooking and getting ready for some couch potato action. Right now Spotify is playing Lana Del Ray, next up is Florence & The Machine. I love my peaceful kitchen. When I'm sat here at the wooden table and old-fashioned church chairs, I feel all is mostly well in the world. It's cozy, it's homey, it smells good and it's already full of memories of too-long dinners and breaking of dawn breakfasts with Milo. A family lives here, and I love each and every one of them.

I leave you with Cheeky McCheekerston:

Job me up, baby.

2011-11-08T14:56:00.001Z

So I’m gonna do this thing where I try and write everyday for the month of November. I miss writing, and maybe doing this will help my brain get out of the mode of survival.

Onwards and upwards!

On my mind today are lots of applications I am writing. I’m aiming high, but am nervous about the whole, “you’ll let me work 4 days a week though – right?” thing. My plan is to ace the interview and when they decide they love me and can’t have anyone else, I drop the bomb. The way I see it, it’s the charity world and they would be getting a quality candidate for less money, so they win – right? POSITIVITY PEOPLE!

It’s getting darker and darker outside. I have to use the lights on my bike, and driving through Banker a-hole I-own-this-town London is never pretty. But at least I’m working off the kilos of chocolate I have become used to devouring on a daily basis.

Oh – that’s another thing. Milo has stopped breastfeeding (for the most part) and the calories that used to go straight to his little chubby cheeks are now going straight to my less than adorable chubby cheeks (down there). I was so proud of my weight loss post-baby that I didn’t think about the chocolate addiction I was feeding, and the massive crash of self esteem that was inevitable.

More on that another day.

So, yes – I am applying for jobs. I’m aiming high. Every job application has to be different though, if you want to make your mark. There is one particular one I am DYING TO GET. I should not get my hopes up. The way you get jobs is to apply for everything willy-nilly and one will eventually reply. I am in love with this job. This is not the way it was meant to go down. I almost don’t want to send the application in so I don’t have my hopes quashed. But my present job has become – shall we say – less than desirable. The negativity and silence that is my workplace at the moment does nothing for my bluesy November-feeling.

So here’s to nothing, folks. Here’s to being the best girl there is for the job.

Monday morning

2011-11-07T10:35:00.002Z

I’m feeling slightly thwarted at the moment. I’m trying desperately to put into practice ‘mind over matter’. If I think things are a certain way, then they are that way. Am I being vague? Yes, that is deliberate.

I have become easily intimidated. By people who have the appearance of having it together, of being able to put across an intelligent point. My brain is mush, I’m tired, my mind is somewhere else… I feel like I want to do everything I need to do well, but I’m just not quite doing anything at all. I want to be a loving, intelligent, thoughtful, hard-working person. I feel there are too many things to do, too many things to think about, too many problems to solve. My head is near explosion. So I am intimidated by those who have the time to think, have the time to sit and make lists about what needs to be done. I don’t even have the headspace for that. I feel like I am unable to be the person I want to be. A good mother, a loving and kind wife, a hard-worker, a clean, positive, well-thought out person, a thoughtful friend, a happy and earnest volunteer, a Godly, giving woman who knows what she believes and what she is doing. Someone who can take a joke and can see things light-heartedly, brings joy to a room.

Instead, I feel lazy and tired and thoughtless and powerless and stretched. I feel haggard and ugly and unable to do any of the things I need to and want to do. I feel inarticulate, unproductive and silly.

So there it is. Let this be the start of mind over matter: I am a good person and I will do my best today to be what I want and who I should be.

What I love about Conrad

2011-03-08T16:53:00.003Z

He is imaginative, creative. He thinks of things in a different way than your average person. He comes up with solutions to problems, he finds a way around things. He can make a boring day exciting, he can conjure up games to play, or things to do that a new, fresh and exciting.
He is handy. He is no normal DIYer. He can fix your whole house. He fixes our house, he hangs things, makes things, creates things, creates solutions to storage problems, makes things look prettier, puts all the things I've broken back together again. I say I would like something someday and he stores it away in his brain only to create something like it and show me as a surprise.
He is crazy talented. He is an actor, and a good one. He's one of the rare few that really move you when you should be moved, and really make you laugh when something is funny. He is incredibly watchable, incredibly raw, and rare in his industry. All that work with him know this, all that have been lucky enough to be his director knows how much he brings to every show he is in. His ideas are original, bright, different. He is the actor I measure every other actor on earth by. He is subtle, he is outrageous, and he deserves to be doing what he loves and is good at every day.
He is a hard worker. He never quits. His favourite holiday EVER was when we went to build a school in Africa and he could work every single day from 7am till 6pm, hard manual labour. He truly loved it, he hates to have a day of doing nothing. He will do any job you ask him to, and he will do it well. He won't do a quick job, he will make it the best he can for you. He is not afraid of work, he is not afraid to get his hands dirty.
He is a gentleman. This is one of the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place. He lives by the rule "always walk on the roadside of a lady", he helps people with heavy bags, he shovels icy driveways for the lady upstairs, he will always stand up to let someone else sit down on the bus. He is charming and does so with ease and without thinking twice about it.
He is sexy. At 31, he has a head full of hair, looks after his body, wears very cool clothes and smells amazing. I think he gets better looking with age.
He cooks dinner for me every single day. Even when he is working, he gets home and starts to cook. Even now, I am sitting here typing away while Milo is in bed when truly, I could be cooking dinner. He is on the way home from a long day at work and will be making dinner. I actually feel kind of bad now it's written down. He not only makes dinner, but he makes amazing food. He is imaginative even here: duck with red wine ju, rich homemade caesar salads, spicy and creamy Indian curries, homemade mushroom risotto, Moroccan chicken... the list goes ever on and does not get dull. I appreciate the food he makes every single day. If it were up to me, it would be whatever is easy and quick.

He makes me laugh uncontrollably. He can make a face, sound, move that will keep me laughing for 10 minutes. He is the only person on earth who can make me laugh like this and it always ALWAYS surprises me. The kind of laughing where you don't even really know why it's funny but it just is.

He makes me remember who I am and what I love, and he wants me to make the most of being me.
He is an amazing father. Loving, funny, full of fun games and cuddles when they're needed. And he is not afraid of poopy diapers. He takes Milo when I need a couple hours extra sleep. He is full of love.

This is just the beginning of an endless list of why Conrad is amazing.

Milo Phoenix Sharp: 6 months old

2011-03-04T12:26:00.004Z

You, sir, have turned 6 months old. You have been on this earth for half a year.

How do you like it? Every new day is fun, every new day has something new for you. Today was cauliflower. Yum yum. I don't think you liked it too much, though. I'm not entirely sure anybody would like pureed cauliflower and sweet potato though.

As I type, you are lying on the floor talking away to Snoopy. I don't think he knows you're talking to him. He's sniffing your nappy in a way that makes me think maybe it's time for a change. You like him, though, and you want to talk to him. You love chuckling, laughing, smiling, looking around. You are so immensely full of life. Your favourite thing at the moment is to role over on the floor from your back to your tummy, then role over again going the same way. So basically you're just rolling, rolling, rolling. It's impossible to leave you on your own, because you love moving around! You have also recently started loving peek-a-boo with a blanket, and playing the flyyyyyyyying game with "zoooom zooooooooooooooom" sound effects. I love hearing you laugh, I would stop anything at any time to make you laugh.

You are also trying your hardest to sit up, evening though you don't have the tummy muscles for it yet. Or the balance. Even in your sleep, I see you starting to sit up with a concentrated look on your face. You are definitely working on it.

This month, you have seen a bit of London. You've been to the movies with mommy, which you particularly loved. You've been to the British Museum, the park... You've been to China town. Everywhere you go, I am so proud you are ours. You bundle of joy and love!

You have also been enjoying a plethora of pureed fruit and veggies. So far, you have had sweet potato, carrot, swede, green beans, courgette, pear and apple. Your favourite is apple, although I think carrot comes in close behind. Funnily enough, both are my favourites, too.

I know this next month will be so busy for you. You're going to learn so much, and I love watching you. I've started planning going back to work in a couple of months, and I want you to know something: If it was up to me, I would stay with you. I want to be able to see you grow, laugh, play, sleep, talk, sing, clap - everything. I want to be part of it all. But you know - Life. Life happens and I can't stay with you due to stupid things. I hope you understand, and I hope it won't effect both of us too much. Just know, I love you. I love being part of your life so very much.

Happy half birthday beautiful Milo Phoenix.

What makes the world go round

2011-02-16T11:32:00.005Z

I love it when couples randomly stop in the street for a hug or a kiss. And then just carry on walking. Like whatever they were talking about, whatever one had said to other meant that they just couldn't wait - a kiss needed to be had. A little look, stop and remembrance of their love had to be shared.

Almost as beautiful as seeing a couple in their 50s or 60s holding hands. I love noticing these people, because if you think about it, it's rare. I love that my parents still hold hands. I never want to stop holding hands with Conrad. I think it's an important part of love. And to see people who have been together for years still sharing in such a small, intimate, sweet, loving, caring, trivial (some might think) everyday thing - it means they still like to feel the other's fingers intertwined around each other. They still like to be sharing everything: walking. Something so normal and everyday, but because they are holding hands they're doing it together.

Daddies talking to their children. Mothers talking to their children. Walking and learning things together, answering silly questions with love and patience. Stopping to talk about what kind of tree that is. The kind of joy that a little person shows in seeing the small things. The adventure that lives around every corner, the excitement that makes them want to run everywhere and get there quicker so they can experience it now!

Men in expensive suits who can't help but pet your dog. They're mid conversation about some stock exchange or some deal they're close to making, and they don't even notice their hand reach out and pet your dog mid-walk. Taking them back to their dog Patch they had when they were 10, remembering life, and God in the small things.

Those moments when you look around and feel a small shiver of excitement for no reason. Maybe the air is a little warmer and you can take a deep breathe and smell spring. Maybe you catch the aroma of a tree that grows in hot climates and it takes you back to a time when you weren't stressed, when you weren't swallowed by everyday tasks. Maybe you look in the sky and the trail of airplanes is fluffier than normal and you take a second to imagine the people up there, on an adventure to somewhere or on their way home.

Feeling suddenly small in the infinite world.

Knowing that your life changes somebody else's. That people really do care for you, realising it rather than knowing it.

Remembering for a moment that you are different than everyone else and that individuality is key to your own happiness and success.

Realising that love is in the small things. Life is in the small things. You are you, every year will be different, every phase of life will change you. What you know will change, what you think you know for sure will definitely change. You will change. Adventure changes for you. Love changes for you. Just remember to love the small things.

2011-02-11T11:22:00.006Z

So I've been pretty emotional the past week or so. I hate writing when I'm emotional, because I'll come out with all sorts of things I'm not sure I want out there... maybe it would be different if it were an anonymous blog, but.. you know. I'm not so great at bearing my emotions at the best of times. Also it's pretty hard to pinpoint the source of said emotions and really understand them myself. It feels like both the big and small things in life are insurmountable and certain things circle round and round in my head like a broken nursery rhyme.

It may have to do with going in to work one day this week. It brought up all sorts of feelings to do with leaving Milo when I do eventually go back. It killed me. And then the lack of sleep I've been having which always makes me into a complete irrational emotional wreck... yuck. It may also have to do with all the pesky breastfeeding hormones still going round my body, or maybe the fact that this winter is taking forever to get gone. But I'm feeling it, and I'm trying to get rid of it. Just keep calm and carry on.

Well this song is one of the things that has been going round and round and round in my head, and it's just so beautiful and fitting of my love for Milo right now, so.. here it is. Lauryn Hill's song to her son, Zion.

I'm coming out of my emotion-hole so hopefully I'll write more later.

Milo Phoenix Sharp: 5 months

2011-02-04T19:52:00.005Z

5 months, my little buddy.

5 months of cutie, pudgy, coy smiling, tongue sticking out, love-filled, snuggled-up Milo time.

You change every day, and it is so exciting to watch you. Your eyes light up with excitement when you figure out how to do something, you have a little 'concentrating' face whenever you're thinking especially hard. When you're sat in your bouncer, your love to kick your little legs. Kick, kick, kick. You love kicking. Kickedy kick kick kick. You still love standing up. It's impossible to get you to do anything else (almost)! When we're holding you, you stick your little legs out so you can't bend in the middle and then you go 'hooooo-oup!' and stand up. You have very strong little legs, my man. Everybody says so!

You still love holding your hands together in deep thought - or just because you're having a little explore. When you're on your play mat we'll look away for a second and ---- you're in a completely different place! You wiggle and jiggle and kick your way to a different spot. You have always been a bit of a mover and a shaker, and you're only growing more so day by day. Tummy time is no longer a huge struggle. Problem is, as soon as we put you on your tummy, you promptly role over with glee! Look at what I can do, mommy, you coo! Or, rather - goo. You love your 'goos' and your 'ah-goo'. At the moment your can't stop blowing raspberries at me, or at anything or anyone for that matter.

You hate to sleep in the day, you just can not get enough of life. The minute your little squishy backside is on the moses basket, you open your eyes up wide as if to say "Haha! I gotcha! I'm not asleep! Now - what next?!" Even when we go for walks in the pram or in your sling, you are determined to keep your eyes open. You will keep them starey-eyed for as long as you possibly can, until the inevitable sway of life knocks you out.

One big thing you've started this month is - wait for it! You've eaten proper food! *disclaimer to readers: please don't give me your opinion on this. my son is a big boy and my doctor recommended he needed to eat more than breastmilk. he was eating every 45 minutes. my.milk.was.not.enough.* moving on... so far, you have had pureed apple, pear, carrot and sweet potato! By far, your favourite is carrot. Not so much a fan of apple. But you are so cute when you're eating. You can't get enough, and you can't get it fast enough either, for that matter! It's so exciting to see you experiencing new tastes.

You have the most beautiful big blue eyes. They might still change to brown and of course will love them just as much. But they are so so beautiful. Full of curiosity, love, trust, life, excitement, mischief (already!)... Oh Milo, I love you!

We've got our little bedtime routine down now. You love to be read to, sung to, rocked, kissed and snuggled! You're such a perfect little snuggler. But oh - you still like to wake up at night! None of this sleeping through the night business for you, oh no! You gotta eat at least every 3 hours! Still! You little pudgy boy! But it's kind of understandable considering you're above the 95th percentile of your age group. We met a 7 month old yesterday and she was half the size of you! Literally!

While you snooze in bed right now, I miss your little face. I love you so much, I'm so proud to be your mother. I love how curious you are, I love how cheeky you are, I love how loving you are. I love how I can see how much you love me and your daddy. I can not wait till you can talk to us. I can not wait to see your personality shine through. Because I know you're perfect for us. My little man.

2011-01-15T23:17:00.003Z

Lack of sleep (yes, I didn't knock on enough wood yesterday after writing the post...) caused me to shed a weepy tear or two after reading this poem.

Mother, oh Mother,
come shake out your cloth,
empty the dustpan,
poison the moth,
Hang out the washing
and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house
is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery,
blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little
Boy Blue (lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done
and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing
will wait till tomorrow,
for Children grow up,
as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep......

A corner

2011-01-14T20:25:00.004Z

I really don't want to speak too soon - but. Something is going right. The past couple of days, it's been... normal? I went to the doctors with Milo yesterday for his third round of injections, and.. Well. I was sat in the waiting room and realised - I didn't feel panicked. I didn't feel overtired. I didn't feel like I could hyperventilate or start crying at any second. My heart wasn't racing. I felt like I was sat in the doctor's waiting room with Milo.

It felt good!

I sound slightly crazed, I'm sure, but the past 4 months has been pretty hardcore. I know every mother goes through it, but seriously. My son eats a lot, and for me this basically has meant constant feeding, and as soon as we arrived anywhere - he wanted to eat!!! I was always super paranoid he would cry and not stop in public, constantly paranoid someone would look down on me as a mother because 'they knew better' etc. etc. I think I would have gotten to this point sooner, but I got sick, and Milo got sick. I had a BAD virus, Milo had BAD bronchiolitis where he couldn't breathe. Everything stopped progressing and I became panicked mother from hell..

Phew. It feels so good. I feel like something is going right, something has clicked. I'm no longer in automatic baby-looking-after mode, I'm Rachel with a baby. Phew and breathe deep.

And then I was preggo.

2011-01-13T12:44:00.004Z

To mark the day that Milo rolled over (front to back) and in honour of being days away from when I found out I was pregnant, I want to write down as many things as I can about weird/funny/memorable things about while I was pregnant. Because I forget things easily, and it's nice to remember these things. A lot of these things to do with drink or food, I didn't actually realise till after I was pregnant.

I drank fizzy orange all the time. Soda and cordial at home, Fanta or Tango while out and about. Couldn't get enough of the stuff. Didn't wanna drink anything else. Cordial and still water would not do. Coke was okay, blackcurrant and sparkling water - no way! Everything else was not good enough.
I wanted to eat cheeseburgers all the time. I was so happy that on my last day being pregnant, me and my co-workers went to The Diner - best burger and chips of my life. Seriously. Best food of my life, MAYBE.
I didn't have cravings, per se - I just wanted fatty stuff. Anything fatty would do. I only realised this after I had stopped being pregnant, though. I ate a lot of mayonnaise, a lot of sausages, a lot of stodge. I always wanted burgers, I always wanted chips/fries. Many times, I even had sausage sandwiches. Seriously. With mayonnaise.
When I drank fizzy drinks, Milo would move. He seemed to like fizzy drinks.
The first time I felt Milo move (or actually 100% realised it was him), I was 14 weeks along. I was lying on my back in bed, I had my hand on my stomach and I felt a little poke. Like a finger poke from the inside. Thing is, I felt it on the outside. Conrad was in the other room and I shouted him to come in saying "I FELT THE BABY KICK!" I could tell he didn't believe me, so I made him put his hand on my stomach and wait.... 2 minutes later, HE FELT IT TOO! It was amazing. So the first time I felt Milo, Conrad felt him too. That made me, and still makes me, happy.
I didn't really start properly showing till at least 6 months. I only really looked pregnant pregnant when I was around 7 months. I was upset about this - I wanted to be big! I was jealous of friends who were as far along as me and bigger. I hear this changes with the second pregnancy, so we shall see!
I don't know if it's because I didn't start showing till quite late, but I never got sick of being pregnant. I kept getting told that by the end I would be ready for the little guy to just GET OUT! But I never had even a second of that. It was a surprise to go into labour when I did, so maybe if I had been pregnant a little longer, I would have felt it. But I never got sick of it - I truly loved being pregnant.

I could always see my toes. I could always get up.
By the end, I had BAD heartburn. When I bent over, when I lay down - it was bad. Gavisgon just made me feel sick. I lived on Tums. Tums every other second. If I didn't have Tums, I was screwed and I had to get to a chemist, quick. One of the first things I remember thinking after Milo came out (or that day) was "Hey - I don't have heartburn anymore!!"
I cycled 6 miles to work and 6 miles back throughout my pregnancy, everyday, up until I was 34 weeks pregnant and started getting high blood pressure. I even carried on then, but my doctor told me to stop, purely because "she wouldn't want me going into labour on the side of the road". So, I stopped. And if people are going to get all hoity toity about me not protecting my unborn son - seriously? Crossing the road is more dangerous, and what about letting your child sit on the back of the bike? Just as dangerous. What about a child riding a bike? Just as dangerous. More people get knocked over crossing the road in London then ever get knocked over on a bike - and whether you like to think it or not, cyclists do have control over these things. There are safe ways to ride, just don't be stupid.

I could feel Milo moving almost constantly after a while, he was a big mover and shaker. Still is. He also got the hiccups a lot. He still does.
Conrad would sing to my stomach every night. Mostly Harry Nilsson. When Conrad sings those songs now, Milo seriously loves it. Seriously.
A couple weeks before I gave birth, I went to start the car and it wouldn't start. Without thinking, I thought "the gas has run out". I proceeded to get the gas bucket (or whatever it's called), grab my umbrella in the pouring rain, and shlep to the garage to get some gas. I then shlepped back, tried to put it in and couldn't - an hour and a half later, I finally went to Conrad for help. He was shocked and appalled that I had tried to do this all on my own. I hadn't once thought that because I was heavily pregnant I should perhaps get some help. I was silly.

I didn't know anybody else (that I know nearby) that was pregnant, or know anybody else with babies or children. My friend at work who doesn't have children knew way more than me about everything. She threw me a baby shower, and one of the games you had to name different things like 'cradle cap' 'breast pads', etc... I had no idea what any of these things were. She looked at me, scared, and the worst thing was - I was holding back about how much I didn't know. I didn't know ANYTHING. Luckily we were scheduled in for some 'parenting classes' which basically saved our lives. Three sessions that taught us everything we needed to know about giving birth and the first few weeks with baby. All I know is down to that wonderful, god-sent midwife.

I felt beautiful being pregnant. I felt more beautiful than I had my whole life. As a person with quite low self esteem, this was a big deal. I looked at myself in the mirror everyday and really liked what I saw.

I didn't have morning sickness. Or sickness. I was so lucky. I went by the whole pregnancy without the whole 'I have to puke' thing. I felt so, so lucky.
I stayed off from work the day I found out I was pregnant. I truthfully stayed off because I thought I might be, and I wanted to take a test at home. I was pregnant and I had to wait until Conrad got home to tell him. I made beef stroganoff (one of his favourites) and hoped to tell him over dinner. I couldn't wait that long. Dinner was almost ready, he was watching 'Grand Designs' on TV and I asked him what happened with his day. He said not a lot. I said 'do you want to ask me what I did?' and he said 'okay... how was your day?' I said 'I bought a pregnancy test'. He said 'and are you?' and i said 'yes!'... HAHA. Very weird and uneventful. It took a while for it to sink in for him (and for me, I think!)

I only took one test.

For the first 3 months, I didn't drink caffeine. It almost killed me. I thought maybe this would help me go off of it - or something - but it just made my love/addiction that much stronger. I didn't get used to it, I didn't wake up in the morning fully - I just felt dazed and confused. I love coffee. It loves me. We're getting married.

We announced my pregnancy to all our friends and Conrad's surprise 30th birthday party. It felt so special. One of our close friends said "Ladies and gentlemen - RACHEL SHARP!" and everyone clapped. One of the funniest and loveliest moments ever.

I used bio-oil every night before bedtime on my stomach and back. It worked for me - no stretch marks. Highly expensive, but highly recommended. Worth every penny.
I went off of garlic. This was tragic for me. I love garlic! But I just didn't want it, it made me feel sick. And even if Conrad had garlic and I could faintly smell it on him, I hated it. Yuck. Gladly, this has now disappeared and my love affair with the smelly stuff is back in full force.

Well, that's all I can think of for now. I want to add to this, so I may just keep coming back whenever I think of anything. I really don't want to forget - I know that every pregnancy is different, and this one was so special because it was my first. I loved it, and I want it to be kept firmly in my heart.

Sickness.

2010-12-12T15:49:00.001Z

Milo is sick.

I am still sick.

Conrad is away working.

My anxiety levels are high, I'm unsure how to deal with this type of thing. What is okay for a 3 month old baby? It doesn't help that it's happened on a weekend, where I can't make a doctor's appointment and the only option would be go go to the emergency room. Extreme? I don't even know. So far I've avoided acting the paranoid parent and haven't gone.

But I'm close to the edge.

To Milo Phoenix Sharp: 3 months old.

2010-12-04T13:24:00.003Z

I'm sitting here on the couch with you on my lap. You fell asleep while nursing, as content as can possibly be. Today marks your three month birthday, little man. Life without you would be intolerable.

What have you been up to recently? Well, you love to talk. When I speak to you, you like to respond, and usually with endless amounts of glee. You respond with an "ah-goo!!!" or some such other beautiful variation of your thoughts. You can hold a rattle, but you don't actually know that you're holding it yet. In fact, you accidentally jabbed your eye with said rattle because you went to put your hand to your face. You looked so shocked! You couldn't figure out what on earth had happened.

Yesterday, you were able to roll onto your side, TWICE! I don't think you meant to do it, and I haven't seen you do it since - but I was so proud. You just kind of hoiked yourself over and back onto your back. This means that you have taken your first step towards movement, my love. This means I have to keep an eagle eye on you at all times! Who knows what you'll be up to next?

Last night in your sleep, you scratched your face. I don't think it bothers you, but every time I look at it, it reminds me that I need to cut your nails more. It's just so nerve wracking cutting those delicate little things, but here is a little reminder that it doesn't matter whether i WANT to or not, your nails need cutting and I need to get over myself. p.s. I love you.

So, it is December, and this year will be your first Christmas. I know you won't remember it, but every song I hear and every tradition I think of, I know it will be so much more precious and special because you are there too. Everything is more special and unique and exciting and emotive because you are here.

Today I danced with you to Sufjan Steven's Christmas album. Well, I danced - you stared at every single item in the room. Oh, this is another thing. You love to look at things. Recently you have decided you do not like to be bored! If you are sick of the scenery, you will let me know. You've memorised every book on the bookshelf? You want to look in the mirror this time! Your curiosity and openness with how you see things is beautiful. I hope this lasts your whole life: because, LIFE! There is so much to see! So much to love!

My baby Milo, this month we found out that you are quite a big one. You're going to be tall, I think. Both sides of your family has 6'5 family members, so maybe you'll reach those heights? Who knows - I'm just happy that you're healthy, happy that you're eating enough, happy that you're contented here in this life we have made you.

Thank you for being so perfect, Milo. Thank you for bringing so much unexpected intense love and beauty into our lives.

Love,

Your mother.

2010-12-03T20:58:00.003Z

I have a million things to say but don't know how to say them. I have 3 half-written posts in my draft box. I'm too tired to write them right now. My body and brain is tired and I can't remember the last time they weren't. Chocolate helps, coffee helps, food helps. I'm tired. All my thoughts are on one thing at the moment and I wonder when that's going to change. I cook and boil the water while running to the shower, I run out of the room while he's watching the dog to hang the clothes up. The glamour, the intrigue... I'm tired. My thoughts are tired. I wonder if I'll be able to talk about anything other than how much I love my son again. My brain is tired. I'm unsure whether I've been 100% since he was born and I'm worried a lot of these months will be a blur.

I try never to say this, because I love him so much. Admitting exhaustion feels to me like betrayal. I love doing it all, I love him, I don't want to complain. I'm just drained.

Got milk?

2010-11-11T22:06:00.002Z

I've got a milk supply problem. The boobies aren't giving it out in the evenings.

This means that every evening (sometimes, randomly, it's fine) poor little Milo is sucking his little heart out and getting nada. He's upset, I'm upset, the dog's upset - it's not pretty. There's nothing I can do to make the milk come. So what I've done is pump the milk in the mornings, when I have more, and then Conrad has been feeding it to him when I don't have any.

This is not fun. For some reason I am STUBBORN not to feed our son formula. I don't have anything against people who formula feed, but for some reason, for me, breastfeeding Milo is a big deal. I want to breastfeed him for at least 6 months, and I don't want to feed him formula until then. I don't know why. Every time I see a health visitor or a doctor, they ask if he's formula or breastfed, and always seem really surprised that I'm purely breast feeding. I wonder why? Do I look like the kind of person that wouldn't want to breastfeed?

I really honestly do not thing that mothers who formula feed are different from breastfeeding mothers, I promise. Some women can not breastfeed, some women choose not to, but for me breastfeeding is synonymous with loving my son and caring for him. Giving formula almost feels like I'm failing or that I'm not providing what my son needs. Failing. Every time he's crying because I can't give him milk, it makes me so sad.

So I've been doing what they say - eating oats (home-made oatmeal cookies count, right?), pumping in the evenings after he's eaten to trick my body into making more the next night (although seriously... it's like milking a stone). But it's not working. I try to relax, and it doesn't work. Usually what happens is that I give him to Conrad and he cries his little heart out until I finally get some milk... this can take a while.

It's complicated, it's emotional. Breastfeeding is a whole world of emotions that I didn't expect.

But I may have to give in. I may have to give the poor starving boy a bottle of formula in the evenings. I may have to admit defeat. If it wasn't affecting him, I would try try try try try.. I love a challenge, and I'm determined to make this work: BUT I don't want my boy to be hungry. He needs his food.

Another unexpected parental emotional heart-wrenching practical problem.

To: Milo Phoenix Sharp

2010-11-04T12:52:00.000Z

To Milo,

I am sat here at the table on your two month birthday, wanting to write something poignant for you. I want to be able to tell you how much our lives have changed for the better, and how the world is a better place for having you in it. How do you go about writing something poignant, though? I’m still sleep deprived (you still love your midnight feasts), and my hands are itching to get to the washing up, the laundry, the hoovering, petting the dog… this is what I normally do in the short nap breaks you take. You see, when you’re awake, you love to eat.

But recently, you love to smile, look up at me and just have a think. I love that you now know who I am, that you quieten when you see me or when you hear my voice. I know I’m the only one that you really hang out with these days, and I hope that I’m helping you get to know the world properly. I like to sing to you, I sing nursery rhymes that I hope one day you’ll sing along too – you seem to especially like incy bincy spider – this may be my imagination. But at the moment, you follow my hands with every movement and at the end you give a little smile as if to say ‘again! Again!’

Now it’s easy to say that the last two months has gone by quickly – I guess it has. People keep saying that I should enjoy this precious time while it’s here because it will go all too quickly. I understand that, and I appreciate it, but it panics me slightly. I wonder, am I enjoying this moment enough? So what I’m going to do is not listen to them, but listen to you. You and me have a good thing going. I’ll still love you in ten years time, in twenty years time, when I’m dropping you off to school, when you’re saying your first words. I think we’re enjoying each other’s company just enough – and we can look forward to the future, we can be in the moment, but we just have to live our lives the way we are living it, I’m sure.

There is so much for you to learn, and so much for me to show you. Yesterday you had your first immunizations. I’m sorry – I know they hurt. And afterwards, you had a fever and all you wanted to do was sleep on my chest. I couldn’t help but be happy that I could soothe you, that you wanted to be with me when you were sick. I know there’s not much choice, but I love you for it already. Like I said, we have a good thing going.

There’s this crazy dog, Snoopy, that doesn’t really understand that you’re a human being yet. One day you’ll be able to ride on his back and pull his ears, and he will love you – right now, I think he thinks you’re in the way. He likes to lick your head, I think he’s still sussing you out. As soon as he understands, he will love you. He is already pretty protective of you anyway.
So, this poignant letter I wanted to write – it’s difficult because 1. My brain isn’t functioning enough to really truly say what’s in my mind and heart 2. You are so much a part of me and my life that it feels almost pointless writing it down – your importance and my love for you is just here – there’s no real describing it. 3. I wonder who I’m writing it for: for me? For people who will read it? For you? I don’t want to be writing for the sake of writing.

Month 2: Milo, I love you. You are crazily the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You are already sweet in nature, loving, delightful, happy, trusting, beautiful, inquisitive…. You love your father. He loves you. There is nothing else like the love in his eyes when he is looking at you. I am so proud of our family, I am already so proud of you. I want to be able to provide as much love, creativity, happiness, understanding of the world, openness, and show you that you truly can be whatever and whoever you want to be. Nothing can stop you. Go with your heart and your mind. Being yourself can only bring good things.

A 33-week pregnant mind.

2010-08-02T13:34:00.001Z

Labour. I will be giving birth to a BABY. In approximately 7 weeks. This is seriously scary. I have no idea what my pain threshold for this will be. People say to prepare your ‘birth plan’ which basically means, what do you want to do? I have no idea what I want to do. I want to give birth to a healthy baby, but there are a million ways to do this, and you know what? You can’t make that happen, what happens: will happen. So I say, I dunno... “gas and air? And then if I just can’t take the pain, an epidural?” I pretend I know what this means for me; I do not know what this means for me.

Pain. I know what I can deal with in terms of past experience; lower back pain, skinned knees, a laser to my heart through the groin (don’t ask!). That hurt, but really… an actual CONTRACTION of your WOMB inside of your BODY. This is pain I cannot imagine, and I have no idea if I can hack it. I’ll have to hack it. And there is no going back, because this baby has got to get out somehow.

And as for if things go wrong? You can’t plan for that. It could happen, it very might well happen.

When the baby is here. If I think about this too long I freak out. I am bringing a human being into the world. The human being will always be here, always be in the house, unless we take it out. He won’t eat unless we feed him, he won’t develop unless we nurture him.

Words like “nurture”. There is a whole new language, a whole new world to understand now. Breastfeeding, nappies, sleep patterns, things to look out for… things I’ve never heard of. These seemed like babyspeak to me. It now makes more sense, but all these phrases and words I’ve heard so many times before are beginning to take shape, and now I want to talk about them. I want to understand them. I dream about them at night to the point that I wake up feeling a bit sick and even more confused.

Listening to other people’s point of view and advice. Everybody is different from me. I know from experience that Conrad and I deal with things very differently from our friends and people that we know. So I don’t really know how to take advice – I take it lightly, I keep it in mind. But really? We can only deal with things the way we’re going to deal with things. We are strong, it will be fine. But advice is almost useless. Particularly because all advice is different.

Regardless, I will be giving birth to a new human being in approximately 7 weeks.

2010-06-28T09:08:00.005Z

I've got a serious case of Gotta Get Outta Here's and there's nothing I can do. This has never happened to me before. I would usually go to extreme lengths to get outta here if I had to (present residential country). I would go into horrible debt, sell all earthly possessions.. but I can't.

Hormones are something ELSE. I'm irrational and emotional at the best of times, and wow do I feel bad for Conrad right now. When I feel sad, it is immense. When I feel angry, it is extreme. When I feel nervous or tentative about the future, it becomes verge-of-needing-valium anxiety. This baby is making me crazy. And I'm already a little crazy anyway.

Other emotions include extreme want to keep the baby safe - being scared of woods. Seriously, scared of going in the woods. I could only imagine this was hyperdrive protection mode, because there is nothing freaky about woods.

Definite nesting instincts. I don't want to be at work, but not just in a 'I don't feel like working way'.. in a I belong with my family (Conrad and bump), I want to be with them NOW way.

Add to all these things a really heavy dose of guilt. Guilt that being here isn't enough, guilt that I feel anything so strongly besides what I feel I should be feeling.

Anyway, most strongly I want to be somewhere else. I know internet land is sick of me saying this, but I need to get away so I can realise that I like England again. So I can feel homesick and want to be here. Because right now, I just want to get away.

p.s. as a side note, one thing that is keeping me going is the most amazing watermelon I've found at the local Greek cornershop. It is better than anything I have ever tasted. England doesn't do watermelon, so this is just a taste of paradise. I can close my eyes and see the mediterranean.

I’m mad about the amount of sun England has.

2010-06-04T14:34:00.004Z

When the sun’s out, every single other person in the UK decides to do the exact same thing you decided to do, at the exact same time.
People wear short skirts and short shorts that really just shouldn’t
You can only be happy with the sunshine ‘in the moment’… you cannot plan. Once a BBQ or day to the park is planned, the weather will change.
You can’t pack your winter clothes away. At some point soon, you will need that thick sweater or that thick pair of socks.
Every single outdoor space is packed to the gilt
If you try to do anything summery, it just ends up feeling like a Brit’s Abroad Tenerife holiday. Or something equally as awful
Your tan that you’re nicely topping up will disappear in two day’s time when the grey sky and concrete slabs of dullness come back
Sunshine is bittersweet. It will soon leave and you will feel empty and used.
English people complain. SERIOUSLY! They complain that it isn’t sunny, and then as soon as it’s warmer than 20 degrees, they complain that it’s too hot. TOO HOT! And too sunny! This is stupid.
All winter long you wait for the sunshine to come back and the hot days to wash over you. Mid June you realise it never happens – why do you always expect it?
You take 5 days off for Bank Holiday weekend; it is grey and cold every single day. The day you go back to work it is 27 degrees and sunny.
Every summer will be the same. You think it will be different, but it will be the same.
You pay way too much for way too little. My garden is a courtyard that would laughably be called a gutter to some in the world.
I'm having a baby so I can't spend money on going somewhere I can forget about the greys, whites and dullness of the sky here. I want to go away so I can forget it and come back and love it again. As of right now, I'm mad at it.

The opposite of nesting

2010-05-21T10:35:00.001Z

I don’t know if it’s being a TCK (wikipedia’s definition) or if it’s something else, but my ‘nesting’ instincts as they like to call it are showing up in really strange ways.

Instead of wanting to set down roots and create a stable environment for our baby boy, I’m trying to think of ways that he won’t ever be settled. I’m already planning trips for his first year of life, imagining times when we aren’t ‘tied’ to living in London. I want to make sure he can see the world as a borderless land where he has every choice he could ever want and be understanding of culture, life and people.

Dear Moves-a-lot-Junior,

Your life is going to be full of surprises, twists and turns, and unexpected people. You will always be loved, you will always be cared for, you will always be free to think for yourself and become the best you there is to be.

I want you to learn for yourself that no person in this world is inferior to others. Every country has its own unique and beautiful culture. Just because you haven’t ever tasted or seen something before does not mean it’s ‘weird’. It’s just different from what you know.

You will grow up seeing beauty in everything, the best in every person. You will have a deep understanding of love and what it actually means, and you will go out into the world with curiosity and open eyes.

I love you so much already, and I can’t wait for you to experience all these things with us. You will love it, little man.

Restlessness.

2010-05-17T16:24:00.004Z

Every day, around after lunch I’ve started feeling very restless. Some might call it itchy feet, but I just call it my past catching up with me.

I’d very much like to take an early day off of work, get home and start packing. Conrad and I will pack all of our things into a couple of suitcases (including baby stuff, of course), grab Snoopy and his lead (and of course, poop bags), lock up the house (with lights on for winter-time, so people think there’s someone home). And go. We have enough gas in the car to make it to France, I’m sure – once we get over (or under) the channel we can just go whichever way we choose. Perhaps a bit of brie and rich red wine on the way through France, a few stops along the way to eat duck and steak and walk along rivers and buy endless amounts of baguettes and pastries. I’m not sure where we should go next. How do you feel about Spain? I wouldn’t mind seeing some more of that Gaudi architecture, I do like the blues and greens and the tiles and the cave-like buildings. We’ll then perhaps take a turn towards Italy. Yes? Italy, I miss Rome – let’s go see the ruins and soak up the intensity of Italian spirit. I wouldn’t mind some creamy pasta, I could drink a nice cool glass of Pinot Grigio, definitely. Once our feet are too tired, we’ll sit at a café and drink coffee with lots of foam on top. When we’re done, we’ll walk till we can’t walk anymore and we’ll have another one. When we run out of coffee money, we’ll buy lemon fanta and sit in a piazza, not caring that we’re poor. We’ll then drive out to the coast to a small town (shall we choose Chivitavekia?) where no-one will know what we’re saying and we think everyone is angry at us – but really they’re not! Now then, I know where I want to go now – let’s go to Switzerland. Let’s visit my home. I will take you swimming in the Rhine in the height of summer, we will find paths that nobody knows, we will laugh at their choice of footwear and walk giddily through the main street of small town. I will feel at home, I will feel a different kind of normal. We will walk along the river to buy ice cream, I will show you the Munot and the way of life. We’ll need to take a train, because that is an essential! We will leave just on time and arrive when we’re supposed to. The streets will look like postcards, and I’ll know I belong there that day.

There are so many more places to go, but my mind is tired now. Perhaps I’ll just stay here in my office in London and dream about it, but you’ll still be there with me.

A thought

2010-05-16T13:29:00.002Z

I think I may have control issues. This has just come to me now, after 28 years of living.

I am 5 and a half months pregnant, therefore I do not have control over certain things. I make a plan for my super-productive day and I get to about a third of the tasks and crash out. This angers and upsets me. Sat from my lazy position on the couch, I try and think of ways I can get up and carry on, but in all truth - I can't! All energy is sapped out.

Rather than being thankful for the excuse to rest, or being cautious because it's important to save up energy for the week ahead, I just get mad. And cranky that the wonderful feeling of productivity and purposefulness is so far beyond me right now.

So yes, something I didn't expect about pregnancy: Complete annoyance about lack of the control I have over the situation.

2010-05-14T11:33:00.001Z

Missing people, missing things, missing ways of life. This is just a normal part of my upbringing and is just another part of normal life. Sometimes it hits harder than others. The fact that I can’t ever casually see my brother and sister, that I can’t pop by my brothers house to congratulate him on one of the most exciting things that’s happened in centuries; his recent engagement. My sister can’t see my growing tummy, and can’t talk to me about exciting things to do with her becoming an aunt and just generally be a sister.

This is before mentioning the fact that all my good friends I’ve had throughout my life don’t live anywhere near me (excluding Conrad, of course). A lot of times I feel friendless – when asked what I’m doing with my time, I don’t have that old friend that I can meet up with over the weekend, I don’t have the fail-safe people that I can call to who know me without me having to explain myself.

Most of the time I don’t think about it, this is the life I have, I obviously can’t complain. But every now and then I miss certain people that were really seriously important to me. People who got me straight away and really cared about me. I will never see these people again, that is just a fact. They are still in constant transient position far away from the UK. I do not have the disposable income to travel to wherever they are living at any given time. If I did have the money, I would visit my family, visit the places that still own part of my soul.

Ah, then there is missing places. Homes I cannot drive past and peek through the window, homes that are entire cities, entire country smells that I miss deeply. I dream of them sometimes, that I’m there. I dream that I’ve finally taken Conrad to my home – that he can see that part of me he never really could understand because it so vastly different from where we exist in now.

It bugs me when people don’t understand all these feelings, but they never can. I can never be in five places at once; I can never be with all the people I love. That is definite. It’s hard when people see things so one-dimensionally. When culturally they can be so unaware, so near-sighted. The world is not England. England is not the centre. The way English people live isn’t the ‘right way’, isn’t the ‘norm’. Going away for 2 weeks - or shock! A month! Does not mean you will understand me, does not mean you understand how it feels to be so very scattered and fractured. England is not my home.

2010-04-29T15:28:00.000Z

Boredom is the worst thing. Stagnant mind, stagnant soul. Minutes go slower and all you can think about is the crap in life, the minor, unimportant details.

Give me air, give me crisis, give me changes of mind. Give me a day where you end up somewhere different than where you started out. Give me a minute of shock, of readjustment. Let me smell something musty, something out-of-place – snap me back to a moment decades ago.

Show me a glimpse of possibles that I don’t think are possible. Use a word that I’ve never heard that explains how you feel, a feeling I’ve never felt before.

Twist my expectations so I can’t see more than 10 minutes away – start running when I’m ready to sit down, ask me questions when all I want to do is de-focus.

Bring me life that I know exists, in this – this regularity that everyone so enjoys.

12 again, and not in a good way.

2009-10-29T11:18:00.001Z

I’ve been having a really strange month at work. Work is fine, I still love it – it’s just, well – the atmosphere has all turned a little pre-teen.

It all started one evening when I was leaving work at 5:30pm on the dot, and overheard someone say “so where should we go for a drink beforehand?”. I turned back around and said “oh, are you guys going out?” They were – and they had neglected to mention anything before hand. Now, it’s not just me – there are two other colleagues who aren’t included in this evening out. The thing is, it’s not just happened once. They always have an excuse (“oh, we all got invited and didn’t realise all of us were going…blablabla”) But it’s happened again… and again.

All just happening to go out for lunch at the exact same time, all mentioning something that happened the night before.

It’s not the actual being left out that kills me (well, it is that, too) but the fact that it’s so sudden. For the past year, my team have been getting along like a house on fire, going out together, going for lunch together, generally the key word is together. All of a sudden, it’s pretty commonplace that they go off on their own without even mentioning it and have secret little email conversations.

So here’s me, almost 28 years old, feeling like I’m back to 12 years old. The problem is, I shouldn’t care. I don’t want to care. I’m a married woman of 27 years! These things are in the past, surely? It has just reverted my whole feeling back to being the odd-one out as a child, and it’s totally knocked my confidence.

Thing is, they’re just work friends. But for this past year, they haven’t been just work friends – they’ve been more. We’ve been to weddings together, they’ve been round to my house for a barbeque – you know? Regular friends stuff. I even went to India and spent 24 hours a day with one of them.

I just feel kind of betrayed. And it totally knocked my confidence. It’s made me question if it’s because of something I did? Am I no fun? do they not like me anymore? What are they saying about me? The list goes on. Truthfully they probably dno’t even see it like this – but I just know that one of them does. One of them thrives on being included when others aren’t, thrives on gossip, being exclusive, being the one who has the inside track.

Ugh, see how this makes me talk? It’s all just so pre-adolescent. I wasn’t even like this as an adolescent, and now I’m being made to feel like this now. Made to feel like going to the bathroom and having a bit of a cry, of standing up and saying ‘guys, I can see you’re emailing each other! What are you saying?? Why aren’t I included anymore???” And most importantly, WHY DO I CARE?

Thanks internet, I just needed to vent.

Pictureworthy for The Guardian, methinks.

2009-09-01T12:09:00.003Z

Conrad makes Guardian news for the first time.

Cycle Ways: The Thames and Beyond

2009-08-31T18:14:00.019Z

So far, you have seen the wonders that are the trip from my house to the Thames. From now on, you'll see the North London streets that make up "The Square Mile" (The square mile of London that is the original city back in the baby days of the city)

Here's the view over the bridge, from South to North London:

I cycle over Southwark Bridge, which is between Blackfriars Bridge (to the left) and London Bridge (to the right). I actually really love Southwark Bridge, it might just be my favourite. The reason is that nobody ever seems to use it. It's not very well known, and sometimes in the evening you can be the only person walking over the bridge and looking out over London. I love it.

Here's the view looking to the left of the bridge, you can see St Paul's Cathedral peeking out.

Here's the view to my direct left:

And here's where I felt like a bit of a tourist with other morning commuter cyclists having to swerve around me... The view to the right with Tower Bridge in the background and Canary Wharf to the left in the far background.:

Past the bridge and properly into the square mile, this is the Bank / St. Paul's area of London. Banks Galore! When the G20 was here and there were riots, this area was cordenned off in case of trouble.

Stood at the cyclists / pedestrian crossing looking left towards St. Paul's. See it in the background there? I always use the clock to see if I'm running on time :)

Up on over the crossing, and we're cycling right in the middle of suit-man city. It's difficult at times not to accidentally run one over (because, of course, they always assume that YOU will stop for THEM, because they're wearing a suit and they're very very impotant, don't you know!)

Up ahead the white building is Guildhall.

After that, we ride around a couple of small streets and wend our way onto Moorgate: (Looking North on Moorgate)

And looking back towards Bank...

This is usually a pretty busy road and I have to keep my wits about me, so I didn't take any pictures on this one, I'm afraid. I thought you'd appreciate me being alive to write this post (not really mom, hehe!) Just this one:

Almost there, guys! Just a couple small roads to go, this is the easy part. We make sure to avoid Old Street roundabout, because going through there would just be crazy! So we take the back roads that no-one seems to know about.

One more little crossing. I don't know if they have them in the States, but in London some pedestrian crossings are also used by cyclists.

Here's the road that my work is on - a little courtyard that you can't quite see on the left.

This is a I'm-tired-just-arrived-at-work-need-to-take-a-shower-but-do-this-real-quick-first picture of the courtyard that I work in.

Here is the front door of where I work - looks diddy, doesn't it?

And a sneaky picture of my bike parked up out front:

Well thanks for joining me on this journey through London... hope you enjoyed it!

Soundtrack to this post: Kate Nash and Brigitte Aphrodite

Cycle ways

2009-08-15T13:48:00.011Z

So this post is mainly for Allison, to show her my route to work on my bike.

Here goes...

Here's my front door with my bike in front of it. I am in love with my bike, it's a nice little Sit-Up-And-Beg (that's really what they call it) Dutchie bike. It's imported directly from Holland and my oh my do I love it! I feel like I'm floating above all the traffic and enjoying a leisurely cycle wherever I go. I'm excited about the day that I can afford a lovely basket to go on the front.

This is my road. Pretty, quiet and leafy. So here is where start on our daily journey to central London. You got your helmet on?

Here I am at a traffic light. It doesn't look like it, but this hill is a bit of a killer on the way in to work on a morning. FYI, Sainsbury's is just on the left.

You having fun yet?

...And this is from the top of the hill. See that guy walking up with his bike? That happens a lot.

And here's the hill down again. Fun in the morning, no so much fun coming up again. This hill is the main reason that I have lost a stone in weight since cycling to work.

So I am now realising how long this will take if I show all the pictures, so I'm gonna start being a little more discerning. Let's just say there are lots of cute small roads that look very Londony.

This is a park that I ride through. This is the park looking very very messy, post festival. But hey, that just adds to the London feel, right?

Naughty park! Being so dirty the day that I take a picture of you!

London houses and London streets

Pretty churches...

This is the first leg of my journey through South London - I now cross over the bridge and take you on a journey through the City and onto Old Street.

But you'll just have to wait for the next exciting leg of my journey...

(Read: This took a really long time and I'm missing out on the sun outside so I'll continue later)

An attempt

2009-08-03T12:54:00.005Z

One thing that went through my mind over and over and over while I was in India was, the less people have, the happier they are.

I was travelling to the poorest of poor in India. These villages were small, poor, and seriously discriminated against. We work with the children of families who are the lowest caste in the Hindu caste system – called ‘Madiga’ or ‘Arundhiatier’. I cannot even start to explain the caste system here, because it would probably takes years or months or 10,000 blogs to talk about them. What you need to know is that this caste system is ancient, and despite us thinking modern life has changed things, it hasn’t. These people are called the ‘untouchables’ and are forced to live very separate lives from their higher caste country-men. Obvious ways that they are discriminated against are the fact that they live in a small community on the outskirts of the village, they are not allowed to drink from the same cups that others are – they drink out of plastic rather than steel. Their children attend the same schools, but are not allowed to eat from the same plates as the other children.

The caste differences has absolutely nothing to do with skin colour, as a foreigner nothing can be seen as different about these people. They are seriously discriminated against, and their lives are a daily struggle that they have no other choice but to accept.

In the eyes of the beautiful children we met, in the handshakes of the dozens of women who came to sit with us – these people knew true beauty. They knew beauty in the soul, in their eyes. I told our Indian colleague that I thought these people seemed so happy. She told me that it is a two-edged sword. These people were happy, yes, but just on the other side of happiness is deep loss, deep sorrow, deep trauma. The only reason they can be this kind of pure happy is because they had been the opposite of that.

We spoke to a woman who had been left by their husband, separated from her sons, and had to work hard labour in the fields for hours on end everyday – in the burning sun, in the pouring rain. She was only able to see her sons once every month, even though they were only 1 kilometre away from where she lived – we had seen them 10 minutes before we came to her house. She cried with joy when we showed her the pictures we had taken of them on our camera. She cried with sorrow when she told us her story. She cried of pain when she explained how her husband had beaten her because she was of a lower caste than him.

Looking in these women’s eyes, there is TRUE beauty. There is sorrow that they feel so deep, but they carry on with life and they have hope. She had hope that she would see her sons again soon, she had hope from the social worker we came with, that she had someone to be friends with. She had her support from the other villagers who had come to watch us speak with her, and earnestly trying to protect her although they couldn’t understand our words. Here, everyday life is a struggle. Being a woman is a struggle. Being poor, being born into this village is a struggle.

All the numbers of people we met who had literally nothing, continued to offer us whatever they had; their just-brewed chai tea, welcoming us into their tiny mud huts, pride and joy and anticipation just to talk to us.

It is difficult not to do some soul-searching here. To remember what is important. Remember that it is not the end of the world if I can’t afford to buy some new clothes. I have a home, I have a husband who really truly does love me, I have a job where I get paid, I am rich. Although I don’t feel like it, I am truly rich.

If I have to chose one thought, one lesson to stay with me after coming back home, it would be this one. To live life content, to live life happy knowing that SERIOUSLY, we have it good. To seek the important things, to remember the faces of people I met and the light in their eyes. We are people, we are all the same. The difference is that I was born here, they were born there. We should look after each other; there is no excuse for treating each other differently.

And most importantly, we are rich.

2009-06-27T16:50:00.002Z

I want to write, I really do. I want to talk about India and the things I have learned. The people I met that will change me forever. I want to talk about how I grew more in two weeks than I ever have, how a country's landscape can change you. How an electricity black out in a village too far away from anything with a group of children singing in Kannada can make you feel more at home than you ever have.

I will, I promise. I'll get started quick smart.

You see, life gets in the way. I cycle, I work, I sleep, I spend time with my husband, I drink wine and text my friends. I listen to music, and try to hang on to those moments I had in India... I need to take myself back, and when I do; it will be here.

I love you, me.

2009-04-07T14:32:00.001Z

What kind of view do you have of yourself? What perspective do you see yourself from?

Me? I have a warped self view. I know this for a fact. In my eyes, I am never good enough, never interesting enough, never fun enough, never intelligent enough for you. I don’t believe I’m good at the things I’m good at – I believe they are some kind of random fluke where I have random spurts of genius that can never be replicated – and those are the particular moments that are seen by people. And that’s just talking about the vague parts of my insides. I also don’t dress cool enough, don’t wear my hair right, don’t do my make up right, don’t have the right body type… I’m just not good enough.

Perhaps it’s my perfectionism. I want to be perfect, I want to be the best ‘me’, but it’s exhausting living up to my own high standards. To put it plainly, it’s pretty much just impossible.

My problem is; this won’t go away. How do you change your self perception? At 27 years old, is it too late? Has my self awareness pattern reached the point of no return? I’m not saying I’m not confident – I am confident, I’m outspoken, I know what I think and what I feel, and I’m happy to tell people about it – but always underneath I have a complete lack of confidence in who I am.

I'm keeping my eyes and ears open for some kind of inspiration for change.

The money leech

2009-02-20T11:51:00.001Z

I’m coming clean as an irresponsible, sieve-like money leech.

Both Conrad and I have taken stock of our irresponsibility and this year are making a serious effort to be good, to be responsible, to pay back debt, to pay for what we’re meant to be paying for.

So far, it’s not easy. My method until recently has been to ignore and put my head in the sand, pay off what I can when I can and just try and be okay with all the rest. That is so not the best way to go. When you do that, I have learned, everything comes crashing down at once.

I feel like I’ve come out. I know that I’m irresponsible, I know that I’ve been stupid, but now I want it to stop, and boy oh boy this whole thing isn’t easy. I spend a lot of time dwelling; I spend a lot of time feeling totally worthless. How can I be 27 years old and not be financially okay? How can I be a 27 year old married woman who still has to call her parents to bail her out?

The guilt. The understanding that it’s my fault, that I’ve put myself in this position. The worst part is that people don’t understand that you can have a good job but not have any money. People at work are constantly wanting to go out, constantly wanting to go for lunch, constantly buying things for ‘the team’ in the understanding that next time it’s your turn. How can you tell them, yes I get paid the same as you, but I have not a single cent to spend today. I brought my own lunch and you know what? I can’t afford to pay for that 1 pound packet of biscuits. I don't just ride my bike 12 miles everyday to get fit or because I like riding in London traffic - I do it because it saves £100 pounds a month and it's either I ride my bike, or myself and my husband don't eat for a couple of weeks.

The thing I hate the most is that we’ve been married for 7 months now and Conrad still hasn’t gotten his proper wedding ring, because we just can’t afford it. He’s wearing a make-shift one that really really isn’t very wedding-ring like. I’m sure that some part of him doesn’t actually feel like he’s married, because the main symbol just isn’t there.

I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure that as soon as I get a hug from my husband I’ll be just fine. But, seriously, why does money matter so much? Why does it affect us all? Why is money so connected to emotions and feeling included and being part of society?

Disclaimer: I in no way think I have it that bad, I understand there are children in the world who can’t even eat and people in the world who can’t work and literally have nothing. I’m just having a bad day of it today.

January of Hope

2009-01-22T11:54:00.001Z

So who knows if there’s anybody that still exists in this blog world that is there. Funny how such a depressing post can sit, unmoving, relentlessly depressing, until someone decides it’s time for it to be put to bed.

Life is good. Incredibly hard, painful, teeth-pullingly excruciating at times… But good. I have started to believe powerfully in prayer. I pray for self-improvement. I pray for strength when things just aren’t happening the way I thought they should. Good things have happened and seriously bad things have happened but seriously… How could I be happy in the good times if I didn’t know how low I could get?

So good things that have happened to me…

Back in December I applied for a job that I really didn’t think I would even get an interview for. I was back at home in Manchester for the weekend and got a phone call that put me on CLOUD 59. I had an interview. I seriously didn’t think I was going to get it... It was far too good to be true, and I just didn’t have the experience needed. I went for the interview, and realised that the more they talked about the job and the charity, the more I desperately wanted to work for them. This job didn’t sound like WORK, it sounded like something I was passionate about and desperate to become part of. Later that day, my interviewer called me, and not only told me I had the job, but that when I left the room, there was an ENERGY and EXCITEMENT that they couldn’t wait for me to start working with them. They felt I really had something to bring and that my passion was not only visible but contagious. How exciting is that?

So I had two weeks off over Christmas to get used to the fact I was going to start doing something I really really cared about. I had a great Christmas with my family and New Years with friends in the Norfolk Broads (pictures to come!).

Since starting my job, I have been happy. Not only am I seriously helping children in countries that I care about, but I’m going to be actually visiting the projects. That means that I’ll be in India in April, Russia in May and Cambodia in November. Remember that feeling I get when I feel trapped and unhappy, I feel the need to MOVE? Guess what? I’m getting paid to stop feeling that way. I’m getting paid to be part of something I really care about, and visit places I have always wanted to go. This January, for the first time, I feel okay in where I am and the fact I won’t be trapped in a little English bubble for the whole year.

Now… The bad things? I’m married to an actor. And with that, there are quite a few upsides and downsides. Downside being that there’s a recession on at the moment and the first thing to go is the Arts. Less theatres are hiring, less plays are being made, less TV shows are casting. It’s tough. We got pretty low at one point because money definitely does not grow on trees. Adding on debt from having a wedding recently and living in the most expensive city in the world (it’s true!) really makes it hard to live our day-to-day lives sometimes. But luckily my husband has a lot of talent, not only in the acting world. He has been designing and making furniture from reclaimed wood and last weekend actually sold a table. Not only sold the table, but sold it within 6 hours of it being available to buy!

We also have each other, and seriously nothing could be better. We love each other and that is seriously all we need, and sometimes all we have!
So live is good. God is good. If only we could do a little something about the grey skies up there.

I do not want to be here again

2008-11-04T11:52:00.006Z

Job hunting, that is.

The death plunge of my self-esteem, the black hole that is my prospects.

I've been working here for a year and a half, and my team and I are being made redundant in February. This isn't a horrible shock - we all knew this would be the case because our project will be completed. But still: I will have no job after February. Worst thing is that the charity I work for is having a complete restructure, which means that there is a recruitment freeze at the moment. Meaning: The prospects they told me I would have at the end of my contract no longer exist. Meaning I've been working my butt off doing extra jobs, volunteering myself for complicated tasks, stretching myself to do things I just don't want to do for nothing.

I feel pretty defeated. And pretty useless. Yes, I've had all this experience and people like working with me, and I'm a positive presence in the workplace, but guess what? How does that work for me on my CV? Not so great!

The worst thing is spending hours applying for a job that you just don't want to do. But that you should apply for because there's nothing else. And that is basically doing the same thing you're doing now, which you are totally bored by and need to be stretched!

I'm also not the kind of person that wants to work to make money and then that's it. I feel that work is a part of you. You should be passionate about it, it should bring out the best of you and benefit other people at the same time. Work shouldn't be a part of your day that you try to get through just so you can start life at 5 o'clock.

I'm trying not to be angry, I'm trying not to lose confidence, but I really feel cheated and annoyed. And I feel pretty useless. So there.

Empowerment

2008-10-29T16:01:00.003Z

Tonight, I am off to see two of my favourite women - amazing song writers and thinkers. Every day I listen to one of their songs to remind me that it's okay to be ME. Does that make sense?

Here's one:

I've been glaring into mirrors, picking myself apart
you'd think at my age I'd have thought of something better to do
than make insecurity into a full time job, make insecurity into an art

yes and I fear my life will be over and I will have never lived it unfettered
always glaring into mirrors, mad I don't look better
but now here is this tiny baby
and they say she looks just like me
and she is smiling at me with that present infant glee
and I would defend to the ends of the earth
her perfect right to be

so I'm beginning to see some problems
with the ongoing work of my mind
and I've got myself a new mantra
it says "don't forget to have a good time"

don't let the sellers of stuff
power enough to rob you of your grace
love is all over the place
there's nothing wrong with your face

Strange how I need to be reminded of the simplest of things...

Migraine Hell

2008-10-21T15:17:00.006Z

Friday morning treated me to a lovely migraine. The kind of migraine that knocks me out for days. It hit while I was sat at my desk about to type an email. All of a sudden I couldn't see parts of the computer screen. Crap. I knew exactly what was happening. I opened up a book laying on my desk to see if I could read it, and I couldn't. White flashy lights were dancing in front of my eyes where the text should have been.

It's hard to tell people what is going on during a migraine without sounding like you're lying. To say that ten minutes ago I was fine, laughing and talking about what to have for lunch and then suddenly.. Well, now I have to leave straight away without further ado so I can get home before the nausea hits.

Migraines are not fun. I got home and slept till 7 o'clock, woke up and walked around a bit then decided I was too tired and slept for another 14 hours. I still feel a bit sick, I still have a headache. Headache isn't really the right word for it though... It's more that some kind of spiky bug has taken residency inside your brain and is pretty reluctant to get out. And the painkillers, they do not help.

All I can do is wait for it to go away.

Saving the earth the fun way

2008-10-13T09:27:00.007Z

I am not a sporty kinda girl. I avoid sport and exercise like crazy. But recently, I have been able to lose weight and not even have to think about it. In fact, I'm eating MORE food and MORE chocolate than I ever have!

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

After we got back from our honeymoon, I decided to tackle the problem that was my travel to work. We had moved to a beautiful new apartment with two bedrooms and a small outdoor space - we love it! The problem was, the trip to work became a nightmare. There was no easy way to get there, no easy route. On average it would take an hour and a half! And I only live six miles away! That is insane! My mood would slowly deteriorate and I started to dread the long haul home.

My colleague then presented a solution to me. Riding a bike! And oh people, this has changed my life. It no longer takes an hour and a half, but a mere 40 minutes to get there! And I have lost so much weight already, without even trying.

My friend was kind enough to lend me her bike for the past 6 weeks, and then something horrible happened - the bike got stolen out of the bike shed at work, where I had left it overnight. Oh dear. You can imagine my devastation.

But - to think on the bright side, it was quite an old bike, and now... NOW! I introduce my new Dutchie:

I'm going to go pick it up tonight, and I could not be more excited! It is originally from Holland and made in the traditional 'sit up and beg' style. The point is that you can wear whatever you want and be sat in the upright position on your cycle to work. Plus, it's very pretty.

So, if you are able - I highly recommend cycling to work. It knocks off so much commuter time, frees your mind from the constraints of modern society and my oh my it helps your figure! Just think of all those extra M & M's you could be eating.

One

2008-10-02T16:13:00.004Z

I stepped forward onto the foggy street. It was not foggy in the English way – cold, damp seeping through my clothes and onto my skin and further into my bones. The mist was warm, hot and tasted delicious. Like if I tried hard enough I could open my mouth and the air would taste sweet, easing down my throat to warm me from the inside.

I did not need to be warmed. I raised my hand to wipe the slight moist from my upper lip – any attempt at cosmetics would no longer be made; the foggy city had quickly taught me that any attempt for vanity would sweat away.

The street was full of people. People who had something to do but were in no particular rush to get there and do it. A man crossed in front of me, attempting not to stare at the tall white, leggy woman who so obviously did not belong there. Another lesson stored earnestly in my mind: the innocent dress bought in the comfort of an air-conditioned mall did not translate well onto the concrete men-filled streets here.

And life carries on

2008-09-26T10:05:00.004Z

The flurry of pre and post-wedding days are slowly fading into pleasant memories that will, I'm sure, stay with me forever. The reality of marriage begins - and with it, more excitement that wasn't even expected.

The light pleasantness of calling him 'my husband' to anyone who will listen.

Feeling part of a strong new family that has a massive expanse of space and time ahead of us that we can fill with whatever we wish.

Making life-changing decisions together, being one million per cent happy that we are meant to be where we are, right now.

Looking forward to cozy Autumnal evenings wrapped in woolen blankets, securely surrounded by love and hope.

I loved our wedding. I loved being surrounded by people we cared intensely about. But I also love being married and calling my love 'my husband'. Being able to live life as one.

2008-06-12T14:14:00.003Z

When I started this blog, I had a lot to say and I wanted to say it as quickly and passionately as I could. I have a feeling writing on here helped sort my head out, and incidentally has helped me sort my life out, too. So in a sense, I never feel like I need to spill my guts somewhere where people will listen to me and understand me, or if not at least the Internet would.

Therefore, this site will be on temporary leave. I just wanted you all to know so that you could take me off of your lists (if you have me on there in the first place). Because at the moment, my mind is clear and I feel calm in myself. No need to let the liquid fire out of heart and mind, through my fingertips and onto the computer screen.

It's funny that the times when you're most trapped and unhappy are the times when you write the best. What happens to the tortured artist when they are no longer tortured?

So I am here, I am happy and may even write now and then, but I don't feel like I have anything to write about anymore with passion.

So, au revoir. For now.

Soon to be a traveller again...

2008-06-08T13:11:00.004Z

Soon, we will be enjoying our first two weeks of marriage in a villa with our own private pool, near this amazing lagoon in Greece.

I'm not sure if I can actually wait.

Round up, round up!

2008-05-18T20:12:00.004Z

63 days to go till I have a whole new last name. All of my mind, soul, heart, health, sleep has been focused on 19th July 2008. What will I do when it's the 20th? What will I have to worry about? So seeing as I'm clearly of a one tracked mind at the moment, here are a few random thoughts that come to me as I write.

I am in some serious (but funny) agony at the moment. Conrad has taught me a new kind of sit up that has left me in PAIN. Everytime I laugh or even try and use my stomach muscles in any way, I Hurt. But to be honest it's kind of nice hurt because there are some serious results going on. Who knew that sit ups actually worked?

I guess I'm a hippy. Everyone keeps trying to convince me to have elaborate flower arrangements when all I really want is to walk through a field the morning of my wedding and pick the most beautiful, free flowers that exist. Meadow flowers. Daisies. I may still get my way, but nobody really seems to get it!

Hm. Guess I really don't have much to say. All I have on my mind is losing weight, getting ready for the wedding, and um.. Nope, I say that's it. So I guess now you can see why I haven't been writing much on here!

One of those posts

2008-04-23T11:38:00.009Z

So I have a couple of things on my mind today...

Networking or sucking up?

I attended a work related event the other day where the schedule actually had a time slot that said 'coffee and networking'. So basically the schedule telling you that this is the time to go talk to loads of people you have nothing in common with and see what they can do for you. Pretend your interested in their line of work in the desperate hope that they can further your own career. YUCK. It makes me feel sick just thinking about it. I obviously do not belong in this world - I'm good at doing this, but it makes me feel like there's something seriously wrong with modern day life. What's wrong with working hard to get somewhere, why can't you just be good at your job and that's that? Apparently you have to be visible. Seriously. I don't know why this makes me so mad - just the fakeness of the workings of life makes me feel a little bit nauseous.

The downside of losing weight

I've been going to the gym and swimming 3-4 times a week in preparation for the wedding in July. I've lost quite a bit of weight and I actually feel good about the way I look right now. The downside? I know that some day (probably after the wedding) I will stop doing hardcore training and all the weight will pile back on, probably in double-time. It's depressing! And it feels so great to fit into my clothes properly and to feel good in my own skin. How do you keep motivation for exercising the rest of your life? Seriously? Does anybody know?

For future reference, it's not okay to ask me if I'm tired

I personally think it's incredibly rude to say that somebody looks tired. I am never tired, I just have darker shadows under my eyes then normal people. I try my hardest to buy industrial strength concealer but sometimes it just doesn't work. When people tell me I look tired, it's basically just telling me that I look like crap. And nobody likes to walk around thinking they look like crap.

Just felt like getting those off my chest.

How to be cool in London

2008-04-10T15:12:00.007Z

You will either be training to run the London Marathon next month, or you have already ran the marathon a couple of times and are giving yourself the year off. One year, you travelled to New York just to add the New York Marathon to your list.
You wear brightly coloured opaque tights - yellow, blue, pink - underneath beige grandma-heels. To add to the look, sometimes you have a matching headscarf - You know, like the one your grandma used to wear when she made her weekly trip to the Laundromat.
As soon as the calendar hits April, you have booked yourself into at least TWO of England's renowned music festivals. Which festival you go to defines what kind of person you are, and people will judge you purely on your festival-going choices.
When asked what you're doing for the weekend, you have plans for Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday day and Sunday night. None of these times will be spent with the same person - You are a social butterfly and nobody can hold your interest long enough for you to hang around.
Your parents are so rich that they buy you a house overlooking the Thames. You whinge about not having any money and the fact that it's so hard to find a job in The Arts.
You are always busy. You never watch TV - in fact, I think you're too cool for TV, unless there's something very cult and different that nobody else in the world knows. And as soon as they start watching it, you start hating it.

I am none of those.

What A Drag

2008-03-28T12:15:00.003Z

What a drag it is when the routine of everyday life sucks all the creativity out of you. My homework for myself this weekend is to sit down and write a song. Or a poem. Or just some kind of creative writing.

Listening to a song on the way into work today made me realise that the monotomy of everyday life can really take it out of you. I never saw myself as the office-living girl, the girl who takes the same route to work everyday, the girl who comes in and has her cereal with a large cup of coffee. I hate routine - it turns you into a zombie. It makes you focus on normality, and once again, I hate normality.

I just want to crawl out of this skin and fly off into another one. Gone are the days that I can hand my notice in and book a trip somewhere without thinking twice about it. Money has to come, money has to go places, money rules the world. If only I didn't care so much about it, I would be off in a jiffy - Me, my flipflops and long, unruly hair taking over the coasts of the world.

Oh, to be 'free'.

Sticking Your Neck Out

2008-03-13T12:43:00.006Z

Some things you just have to do because it's good for you, whether it be good for your soul, good for your heart, or for your body. But why is it that the first step of something amazing and life changing always feels like the worst day of your life?

Okay, maybe it's just me.

Tonight I have my first meeting with a charity that I have volunteered for. The charity is still in it's first few years, so it's just a baby. But that makes it all the more exciting, because I feel I can really be a part of it and make a difference. The Clabile Trust is a charity that was founded a few years ago by someone who visited South Africa and decided she needed to do something and she could do something to make a difference in the community she became part of. And so she did.

I am so excited about becoming a part of this venture, to be a part of something I'm passionate about! To be part of something where my thoughts and experience and ideas really make a difference!

But right now, sat writing this, I feel nervous. And scared. And all sorts of scenarios are playing out in my head. Why is it that we can't go into a situation confident and understanding the big picture? All I can think of is the here and now, the next eight hours, the fifteen feet in front of me. Which is why when I was reading Ben's blog, I was so grateful to be reminded that there is a bigger picture, I need to focus on the horizon. What I'm doing does not only effect my day today, but in one years time, five years time, ten years time I may remember today with a happy remembrance that this is what started off my life-long adventure.

Yes We Can

2008-02-21T22:57:00.001Z

I was reading Dreaming of Hanoi and came upon this which stopped me in my tracks and gave me chills.

We definitely can.

Monthly Freak Out Time

2008-02-21T13:01:00.006Z

So. There's five months to go until The Big Day. FREAK OUT! I seriously need to get in shape. I seriously need to find a photographer. I seriously need to feel organised. I seriously need to chill out. Thing is, the rest of the month I'm calm sedate and perfectly happy about the whole thing, and then I do a countdown and I just can not believe it! Five months to go! That's less then six!

I'm also sad because once it's gone, it's gone. I want it to be the run up to our wedding forever! This is the most fun I've had all my life!

Organising + Bossing around + Getting my way + Wedding day + Conrad = A happy Rachel!

I never want it to end.

*

Random wedding fact:

"The bride's bouquet come from a very old tradition of strong smells warding of evil spirits and bringing good fortune. During the plague in England people would wear little pouches of flower petals around their necks as not to be infected with the Plague believed to be carried by strong bad smells."

Self assessment - Life doesn't have to be taxing!

2008-02-19T22:39:00.007Z

Eddie Izzard, anyone?

It has become clear to me that I think too much. Some might think this isn't actually possible, but when it comes to assessing ones self, I really think it is.

I assess my relationships, I assess the way I'm talking to people while I'm talking to people. And what's worse is that since I've started realising that I assess myself, I am realising that I am assessing myself while I am assessing myself.

This can get kind of annoying. It hasn't helped that my degree was basically teaching me how to study people and analyse them, and since then I have taken a particular like in studying myself and therefore analysing MYSELF. The problem is, I find myself kind of fascinating. I don't really fit into any rule that exists in my head. I've been trying to figure myself out for years. Many a time I will turn to Conrad and go 'did you realise what I just did? Why do you think I did that?' And we'll sit for a couple of minutes analysing me.

Now, this could technically be healthy. Self-awareness is definitely a good thing - realising the effect you have on people and the effect they have on you. But to function as normal human being? It only occured to me recently that other people may not do this. Other people go into their lives just doing what comes naturally - I, however, have to have a reason for everything.

And here I am, writing a post about it.

Valentines

2008-02-14T15:54:00.002Z

Sit on your pony and I'll sing you a song
But the words I'll forget
Read you my poem I've not finished yet
Tell you I'll need you in infinite ways
'Till the end of my days

We're like mice on the underground
Blissfully unaware of the life up above
But nothing can spoil our little mouse love
We'll take our lives in our hands as we dance down the rails
Chasing our tails

And I could never leave you
'Cos if I did I'd die
For I wouldn't be me

With each day that's dawning a day has to die
And still nothing gets done
But Who could be truer
Than my precious one
Carefully saving our pennies in jars
Just to waste then in bars

And as days turn to weeks and then weeks turn to months
See how much I have grown
I'm seven years old I've had nineteen alone
You mended the life that was falling apart
On the way to your heart

And I could never leave you
'Cos if I did I'd die
For I wouldn't be me

So sit on your pony and I'll sing you a song
But the words I'll forget
Read you my poem I've not finished yet
Tell you I'll need you in infinite ways
'Till the end of my days

--C P Sharp

Why I Love Ben Frost

2008-02-12T17:10:00.000Z

A couple of years ago I lived for a very short while with my best friend. It was the best couple of weeks in that house ever. We baked cookies, ate all said cookies in one go, had pajama movie nights, had curry nights, had pajama mexican nights... You can tell we ate quite a lot. He was only there five weeks but it was a good five weeks. One day while I was at work I received and email from him. I was looking through some old emails today and found it. I thought it would be my present to the internet to post it because I love it so.

So...

I thought I'm gonna have a shave and a shower and do my hair and I'm gonna swallow my pride and go down to Past Times and apply for a job.

So I have a shave and I'm feeling good and think I'll take a shower now. I take note of the time because the Collin and Edith show has just come on Radio 1 - this means its just gone 1 o'clock.

My shower is just lovely and i wash my hair and feel all relaxed. I shut the shower off and get dry, wrap my towel around myself and go to open the door. The handle just spins around. So I try again. Nothing. Then i have a flash back. I see the other half of the door handle on the floor, on the landing. I remember from my childhood my mother telling me not to shut a door when the handle is broke - "we won't be able to open the door if you did" - she said.

So...I consider my options. I can wait here in my towel, cold and damp and wait for the first person to come home, but it's not long past 1 o'clock and it's possible that someone won't be home until 5. So that was no good. Well I'll use brute strength then, i tell myself, so i start charging the door with my shoulder/elbow/knee/foot/fist. It's no use. The frame is starting to come loose and every part of my body aches.

I sit down on the edge of the shower and think maybe i should just cut my loses and sit here until Mim comes home - she's only foundation, i tell myself, she could be home at anytime - but then i look up and have a bright idea.

The perspex window above the door looks like it could come out if i loosened the nails. I look around - what can i use - i find a disposable razor and with the plastic handle i push all the rusty nails back until the perspex comes out. Amazing! When you see this in films it always looks easy when someone pops a window and then pulls themself up and they're outta there. But when it comes to it and you're tired, naked, and realise you can't lift your own body weight - because you've recently eaten 6500 cookies - it's a different story.

So...i give up on this idea, put the perspex back up and fashion the rusty nails to rehold back it place. I sit on the edge of the shower again, and again giving up. I try shaking and twisting and pulling the handle in order for the latch to shift but all the results in is the handle coming off at my side to. Great, I think to myself, now I've got to sit here looking through the small gap, where the handle was, being able to see my freedom on the other side but not being able to get to it.

Time passes. It feels like days...weeks...years.

Then it comes to me. I need to find something which i can substitute for the door handle, something i can put into the gap, turn it, and unhook the latch! Firstly i try my little finger. I push it in as far as I can and then try and turn. It doesn't work. The result - bleeding finger! What can I do?! What can I do?! I check the basket on the shelf for some kind of tool. All i find is a handful of disposable razors, all too big to fit the hole i have to work with. I try my other little finger, but it's as successful as the first. I figure I'm going to have to try with the razors.

So there I sit, back on the edge of shower, using my teeth to fashion a tool the same size as the missing metal bar which i knew was on the floor on the other side of this god forsaken door. I go through about 3 razor. my hands occasionally catching the blade and my teeth and jaw aching. On my 4th attempt I'd made my best tool yet and started pushing it into the small hole. It wouldn't go in far enough. So i look around again for the best 'hammer' i could find. The Dove shower gel bottle is the biggest and heaviest thing i can find and so i start 'hammering' the razor handle into the slot. It's in as far as it can go. I sit on the edge of the shower, which by now was surprisingly comfy, and i slowly turn my disposable razor-cum-door handle and as if by some miracle the door pushes open.

I fall to the floor and half laugh and half cry. Immediately I go to my room and put some clothes on, I'm cold, tired and sore all over from my teeth to my toes. I check the time, it's just gone 3 o'clock. I've been sat in that pokey little room for just around 2 hours. 2 freakin' hours!!!!!

Oh well. I guess it's a change from sitting around and watch tv so I can't really complain.

Apart

2008-02-12T12:04:00.000Z

Things crop up that I forgot I had to do. I sit and talk myself out of doing it. It's not worth doing if you can't see me. Your pride validates me, if you watch me and smile with a secret look in your eye it makes me want to do it even better next time. You make me in to a person that I always wanted to be. Before you there were holes in my personality, I knew who I was meant to be but didn't try hard enough. With you I am always me, the person I know is good in heart and soul and means well. When you are away parts of my alone-self remind me that you are who makes me me. My motivation is to show you how good I am, show you what you make me. You make me pure and real, you make me honest.

At least when I am lonely I know you will be back, and I will be me again soon.

Getting out of aforementioned boxes

2008-02-08T16:18:00.000Z

Please excuse the freeze frame of Lauryn Hill but it's the only way I could get the song on here.

The Art of Losing Conversation

2008-02-07T16:41:00.000Z

I am not a conversationalist. I lack in easy speaking credentials. If Conrad and I are having a particularly heated argument, I sometimes have to take a break and go away and write down how I'm feeling, come back to him and actually read it out. My thoughts come to me as I write, not as I speak. This includes small talk and just generally getting to know people.

I used to have a parallel Rachel that I would talk about when strangers would ask me about yourself. I was originally from California, I was a student. I've never been to this town before, etcetera. If some taxi driver would want to know what I'd been up to that night, I would lie and tell him I had been doing something completely different from what I had been doing. I don't much like people knowing a lot about me. I don't want people to try and figure me out, I don't want people putting me in a compartment that I do not belong in. My mind and heart are like water, they fill all categories and spill over into whatever comes near me.

Unfortunately this does not bode well for me and making friends. Making friends is so much easier when you go to school and hang around with about 100 other people your age doing the same thing as you. But in a big city where you have to go out and find it yourself? Open up to complete strangers in order to create some kind of bond that shouldn't be forced? I cannot do it. I am trying to train myself into this conversational thing. I'm going to try and tell people about my life, tell them about who I am and how I feel and try and ignore the consequences and uneasy silences and feelings of insecurity that might come afterwards.

I guess that I'm just me, and I just need to deal with that. And if somehow that brings friendship, then so be it. I hope it does.

An Inappopriate Sharing

2008-01-23T09:36:00.000Z

Why is it that I am a grown woman, about to be married with a full time job and I am completely and utterly mortified to buy tampons?

I just can't do it. Last night I went into the shop, walked around a little bit, felt really awkward and had to stop myself from running out.

Will this ever go away?

The Year Of The Wedding

2008-01-12T12:06:00.001Z

a.k.a My Recurring Dream

I woke up with a start this morning, heart pounding and my nerves completely on edge. I had had The Dream again. The dream starts at 11:45am on my wedding day, the ceremony to start at 12pm. I have my dress on, I think that all is well but then I look in the mirror and realise that I HAVE NO MAKE UP ON and MY HAIR ISN'T DONE! I haven't even washed my hair that day! So I have 15 minutes to do everything I possibly can to make myself look vaguely presentable and ready for what should be the biggest day of my life. The dream then drags on for what feels like 3 hours that are all in those 15 minutes trying to figure out what I am going to do.

I have had this dream approximately 5 times. Each time the scenario is slightly different, but it's always 11:45, and it's always the same issue.

Obviously, I'm worried that I'm not ready enough. There's 6 months to go (which I know is plenty of time) but at the moment I'm quite panicked about the amount there is to plan. I'm usually the kind of person that procrastinates and then finishes everything off at the last minute, but this is the one time in my life I can't do that. I think I'm just worried that I will do that, and I'll only have myself to blame for a shambles of a wedding.

I also know that even if we were stood in a church in our PJs with our vows tainted with coffee breath, it would mean just as much and it would be just as powerful.

But I have such high hopes! And there's so much to be done!

On a brighters side, I thought I'd post our Save The Date card that we sent out in November.

One of our friends designed it for us. I love it. When he first sent it to us, we were staring at it for ages because it's just so different and kind of weird. I always wanted to be in an oldies movie so I guess this works well for me!

Before we had decided to use this one, he created another one for us:

I actually LOVE this one. But it looks like I'm a singer in a band and Conrad's my backup singer. If I were to have a band, I would want this to be my promotional poster. I LOVE IT. The butterflies, the flowers, rainbows... Oooh I just love it.

Well now I'm off to go try and do some planning to stave off the recurring dream.

But before I do, I have a question for you: What song is quintessentially wedding reception to you? What song would you request to be played so you can dance lovingly with someone? What song would either bring you to tears (in a good way) or make you boogie on down?

Back From Death

2007-12-19T11:56:00.000Z

It would appear that as new tradition has been born: Two days after my birthday I come down with something disgusting and near deathly. This year did not disappoint! I don't so much mind being sick really. I quite like the excuse to sit and watch TV for 20 hours and doze in and out, drifting in a world of semi-reality. My Illnesses somehow manages to make me feel like I'm in a dimension of floatiness which I grow fond of and actually miss right now.

Until.

Until I start getting a niggling feeling that something is wrong. Until I start believing that there are people downstairs, outside my window in the night - waiting for the first chance of sighting me to pounce and attack me. I develop an incomparable paranoia on my 3rd day of illness. The day that I am not really deathly sick anymore, just too sick to actually do anything worthwhile with myself, the time of sickness that I drag myself out of bed wearing something black I had to pull out of the dirty laundry, covered in cat hairs (um.. I don't own a cat. How did they get there?) I come into work and they tell me to JUST GO HOME because I look like I might actually pass out in front of my computer screen.

The Paranoia makes me believe things that can't possibly be true. Like my fiance has fallen out of love with me because I made that comment about his socks earlier in the day. That my fiance has been attacked on his way out to the shops and is surely dead, and I'm sat on the couch knowing that my demand for chicken soup has been the death of him. My mind goes into minute detail of the call I'm going to get from the police and my guilt for years to come knowing that if I hadn't been sick, my fiance wouldn't have died. Knowing that I, myself, would die alone and heartbroken after years of pining for my One True Love.

My paranoia is fuelled mightily by my over-active imagination. People at work are plotting my termination because they can't believe that I could dare to call in sick, and they actually realise that 'what does Rachel do around here anyway? Let's get rid of her!' That I will walk into the office with people hissing and spitting at me, someone crawling from the corner hissing 'Boo!! Boo!!' (Anyone watch Princess Bride lately?)

It's always a mild surprise when I step out of the house feeling vaguely human, get the bus, walk to work, sit down, turn on the computer and carry on with normal life. Nothing has changed, I was just sick.

It's not the end of the world.

It's funny, because it's true.

2007-12-16T17:38:00.001Z

The card I received from my best friend:

26

2007-12-13T15:08:00.000Z

A year ago this week I was writing a blog post about my unhappiness, my despair at turning 25 and really having nothing to show for it. I was in a crisis and I couldn't see a way out.

Tomorrow, I turn 26. I am not panicking, I am feeling quite mature. This past year has been so amazingly good for me. It has rejuvinated my sense of hope, my sense of ability to change my own circumstances. I had given up on hoping and looking to the future. Just when I was giving up, my own depression gave me a lift and Oh My Word I cannot believe how much better I am today.

My boyfriend of years and years whisked me away to Paris to propose. Last year I was scared to even bring up the topic of marriage because we'd get in an argument and then we'd both end up just feeling hopeless.

I started a job in a charity, doing something I care about. Last year, I was working in an environment and with people that were sucking away my sense of being. I honestly felt like if I stayed any longer, my sense of self, my ownership of my life, feelings, thoughts were going to be extinguished. Not only was I working in a job that I didn't feel any future in, in a bland, grey existence - but I felt my self was disappearing. It has honestly taken from May when I started my new job, to now to get myself back to normal. I have started breathing easy again, started to be myself. I don't have to second guess what I'm about to say, I can feel and think and react honestly and my environment encourages me. I have amazing opportunities with this job that I didn't think would come as easily as they have. I basically have an open ticket to any department: campaigns, policy, research, working with children, etc. etc. etc. And I just have to pick. Now picking.. that's the tough part. But I have a choice!

Last year I felt stuck in England. I had no idea that in the short few months I would be able to travel to Paris, Japan and the States. I now understand that I can NOT become trapped if I actively pursue what I want, and what my wandering feet need. The coming year has so many possibilities that I can rest easy sitting here in England. I am not trapped. It was just my mind that made me that way.

I suppose I realise that hope is never lost. I should never lose sight of what I am aiming for, what I have always wanted. And what I always want is a sense of freedom, a sense that there is hope for new discoveries, new adventures, new excitement. What my problem was last year was that I had given up on hope. Hope in itself is exciting. If I dare to keep on imagining and KNOWING that the future is out there I just have to wait for it... I get excited just thinking about it.

Thank God for Hope.

Happiness

2007-11-30T10:54:00.000Z

In my job, I am becoming increasingly aware of how depressed everyone is. Not every day in the people that I meet, although a good portion of the people I know do have depression. But depression in the people of England as a whole.

I don't want to write down the name of the inquiry I work for here, in case someone up and finds it and leaves me feeling slightly foolish. But it's basically an inquiry into what effects the wellbeing of children and young people in England today, and what steps we can go towards making it better.

Okay, of course this is a mammoth task. But the one thing that strikes me is how Hapinness and Love come up an awful lot. Children need Love. Children need happiness. Well, don't we all? And when we're talking about happiness, we're not talking about a feeling of glee or 'happiness' that you have when you buy something, or when you eat something. Happiness is indeed something that needs to be looked at on a deeper level - What is it and why is it that happiness is lacking almost everywhere?

I myself am quite a happy person (I think?). I don't like to be negative for very long. There was a period of over a year that made me extremely unhappy, but that had grown from my circumstances and my hatred for my own circumstances. I took control over them and I changed them, and since I have experienced happiness again. Not many depressed people can do that. Mine was born completely out of circumstances. I don't have a chemical imbalance, but I do know several people that do, and it effects their lives every single day.

There are certain things that bring satisfaction and happiness to people's lives - are these things lacking (for the most part) in people's lives? I don't get it. Was depression around long ago, and we just didn't have a name for it? There was no 'cure'? Is depression a new thing? I don't mean to be talking just about depression, but it confuses me.

Is this the curse of modern life? What is 'missing'? Is anything missing at all? Do we no longer know how to seek out happiness in our lives? Was this chemical imbalance around in history? Has it creeped in through the development of modern life, sparking something that was already there?

I suppose I will never know.

Forever Itching

2007-10-26T08:22:00.001Z

So I'm wondering when this itchy feet thing will ever go away, if my desire to just pack up and leave will ever be sedated. I'm beginning to think not.

Conrad is on tour at the moment, leaving me Single in London. I don't much like being alone, particularly because of the fact that it just reminds me that I want to go. Anywhere. Soon, please.

I sit around reading facebook and all my friends from here there and everywhere. They speak of Manila and of the rain and sun and school. They speak of my teenager years, of my past. I want to go there. It seems that everyone from those days wants to go back - planning quick trips over Christmas, trying to figure out some way of working there. I miss the way of life, I miss manana . Why do today what you can do tomorrow?

It's difficult when you're homesick for a home that no longer exists. When, in order to go home you have to go the 3 or 4 places at once, and still then - it will not be the same.

I know that if I left London I would miss it. I know that this will never go away, it's just hard to not feel like this when my reason for living here is gone.

Kindred Spirit

2007-10-18T15:19:00.000Z

Today is the birthday of a spectacular lady, whose loving character, humble nature and playful personality makes me happy everyday. My mom.

I've always been a mommy's girl, which definitely doesn't mean I love my dad any less. Just me and my mom are a lot alike. Conrad comments regularly on things that I say or do that are like my mom - and when we're together he just looks at us as if to say 'now I don't have to deal with just one, but TWO of you??'

My mom and I go to Alton Towers together, usually ending with her forcing me onto the most dangerous and scary ride there is - calling me a scaredy cat if I appear slightly afraid. My mom scours e-bay to look for PlayStation games that we can play together when I'm home, spending hours exploring magical worlds as a team. My mom takes me out for and Indian meal where we sit and talk for hours, eating far too much pasanda.

When I'm sick, there's still no-one better then my mom to make me feel like every thing's going to be okay, and she understands and will do anything to try and make me feel better. The same goes if I'm generally feeling a bit blue. Nothing like a good sympathetic shoulder like my mom.

Quite often you'll find my mother and I singing songs on the top of our lungs that we're making up as we go along, improvisational little testimonies to our likeness. We like to be silly together - it's just fun.

My mom is alone today on her birthday which makes me sad. I hope she realises how many people across the world appreciate and love her, even though they aren't able to tell her every day.

Happy Birthday Mom!!

Nester

2007-10-03T10:15:00.000Z

There's something exciting about digging through the hordes of shoes at the bottom of my closet, throwing the flipflops behind me in eager anticipation of reaching The Knee-Length Boots. It's October, it's raining, and I want to be cosy. Zipping up my boots, I get a chill from the cold leather lining. The chillsome air starts feeling more welcoming as I tie up my long warm winter coat.

I walk outside in the moisture filled air and push up my umbrella. Today is the first day I need an umbrella, the first day I need my coat, the first day I wear my boots. I'm feeling cosy as I walk to the bus stop, already looking forward to the moments when I get home and feel the shock of warm air on my face.

I love autumn.

I can smell the damp leaves falling from the trees lining my street. I can taste the moisture in the air, trying to creep past my scarf.

I've decided tonight I'm going to read a book. Get home, take a bath, and read in the yellowish light coming in from the street. I realise it's time to free the blue Grandma-knitted blanket from the trunk in the bedroom, wrap it round myself while I drink tea and nibble on whatever biscuits I can reach from my position on the couch.

Greys and blacks and reds and dark browns.

Autumn is here.

My Bizarre Weekend

2007-08-17T09:20:00.000Z

This evening I will be driving here:

(Knebworth House)

To spend the weekend camping on the grounds and taking part in this:

...Noddy Land.

Rest assured, I will be taking many a photo and will share with you all when I get back.

It's going to be like one LSD-induced weird-human-sized-doll-creatures mixed with Pride-and-Prejudice-grandeur.

Ah, life as an actor's fiance...

Just Cause

2007-08-16T12:54:00.000Z

So, I'm sat here - slightly bored, slightly cheeky, slightly brimming with nothing-thoughts. Whenever I start to get a bit ancy, I have to float up a bit and try and look at it all from above, from a less-fortunate frame of mind.

The reason I haven't been writing in blog-land is because I no longer feel the need to vent frustrations and share awful moments that are going on in my life. Because there don't seem to be any! My 25th has definitely been a good year (so far!). Marriage proposals, new proper jobs, experiencing new cultures, cutesy little apartment that allows us to whisk ourselves (and any one who happens to be visiting at the time) to the heart of My Favourite City.

Just a side note, I don't know what it is about the capital of England, but there's some kind of force that makes me, a person totally against patriotism and pride of country, feel pride and a sense of belonging so quickly. An article on the BBC the other day quoted research on immigrants in London and it was found that none of them felt English, but that most of them thought of themselves as Londoners. I personally feel that Londoners are a breed of their own; on the most part, an undersatnding, welcoming, vibrant town that seek out new cultures and new traditions whilst at the same time, maintaining an understanding of where it's coming from and pride of history.

Perhaps my favourite thing about London is that it's pretty hard to get bored. And on a weekend with no money, you can walk around and soak up the buzz, soak up the big city vibe and explore.

This year, I have been fortunate enough to travel. And my appetite for travel is not easily satisfied.

1. February saw me whisked off to Paris to be proposed to...

2. I spent a long and cultured (albeit windy) weekend in Brighton, one of the few English towns I hadn't previously been privileged enough to visit.

3. In July I was lucky enough to be invited to a traditional Buddhist Japanese wedding, in Japan...

There are way too many pictures from Japan- I may have to post on them soon!

4. And a week from today I'm flying across the Atlantic to chose myself a wedding dress in the good ol' U S of A.

So when I sit here shivering in this awful grey, windy (will we ever have a British summer again?) little office I can remember that this year has been extremely good to me, and it's still only August.

Yes, things happen that aren't top-notch. Not every day is exciting and full of treats; normal life is full of evenings watching TV shows that you're ashamed of watching, spending far too much time on public transport for your liking, slacking off at work when your boss is away on holiday, whiling away hours on facebook comparing your own life with those you knew when you were 2 years old.

But I'm so glad that when I take a step back and actually think about it, I am fortunate. I'm living a life that I would look forward to as a kid, that I know I'm being truthful to myself and my values and what I think life should be lived like. I take joy in the small things and get excited for absolutely no reason at all.

Big News

2007-06-22T11:22:00.000Z

I received My Very Own Business Cards today.

I have arrived.

Don't you hate it when...

2007-06-19T13:38:00.001Z

...You take your camera to an important event and the batteries run out after two pictures..?? Well, don't you?

Here are the couple of pictures that survived from Conrad's mom's 60th Bday party:

Ain't my mama pretty?

By Popular Demand

2007-06-18T18:06:00.000Z

Well flattery will get you everywhere around here. There is too much to say and too much that I'm feeling right now to speak of emotions and such. My life has woken up again and I wake up in the morning with a purpose. I end the day on Friday with a purpose. I go out to the theatre, I make dates with friends to do things. It's a wonder how circumstances can change your heart.

So without having to go into all my thoughts I thought I would show you what a proper fondue looks like. These pictures were taken on my Birthday in December... I think it's taken me long enough to get around to doing this!!

Fondue, Rachel-style:

1. First and foremostly, have absolutely nothing to do with the cooking of the fondue. This tends to work better when your dad was taught by an Old Swiss Wiseman how to cook fondue, 'secret' ingredients included.

2. Walk around going on about how hungry you are and how good it smells. Snack on plenty of olives - preferably green, but if you substitute for a black one now and then, you should still get the same effect.

3. Set the table as elaborately as humanly possible. Use the china that your parents received as a wedding gift 35 years ago if you have to. This is essential to the 'mood' of your fondue. The fondue does not appreciate being under-valued.

4. Bully your father into making his garlic mushrooms, even though everyone thinks they are wildly inappopriate for fondue.

5. Make a ridiculously English pot of tea, and enjoy with your pinky extended into the air.

6. Snack on mini little tears of fluffy white bread, filling your tummy before you've even started with the best bit.

7. Most Importantly - Enjoy thoroughly.

Poor bloggy!

2007-05-22T08:33:00.000Z

I feel like my blog is a forgotten-about stuffed toy that I keep away in my room and don't tell anyone about. It's forlorn, it's neglected, it's sat here on it's own with nothing to do. I've moved on to the bigger toys, but it's not my blogs fault. I just don't have the heart to pack it away in a box and store it in the attic, so it sits here waiting. I'm too attached to it, and it might give me some comfort one day when I'm really needing it.

So my stuffed toy will keep it's seat on the top of my cupboard (just out of reach) for now.

Quick Update

2007-05-15T19:57:00.000Z

I am:

*Shocked by my new boss' intant confidence and faith in me

*Surprised by my own ability to concentrate and work hard.

*Understanding of why I was so depressed in my old job

*Feeling like the old 'Me'

*Happy

*Challenged.

*Realising that I LOVE being challenged.

*Feeling very hopeful for the future.

*Oh... once again, happy.

Summer in the City

2007-04-27T12:47:00.000Z

Last weekend was endlessly pleasant. I'm discovering that London is a city that thrives in the sunshine. As soon as the sun comes out, everyone is sprawled in the sun and remarkably happier then they were before. It's like a massive prozac pill for the city. I love it.

On Sunday we decided to wander down to Hyde Park and have our first Picnic In The City. It was the same day as the London Marathon, and absolutely everyone was out and about. It was probably the best couple of hours of people watching that I've ever experienced (and the sunglasses most definitely helped in disgusing our nosy eyes!) We were sat amongst kite-flyers, frisbee-throwers, badminton players, and even in close proximity of a 3-man wrestle practice (one guy had his cod-piece on the OUT-SIDE of this trousers. Considering the fact that they looked like they were having some three-way orgy in the park, this did NOT help him look any cooler). There were many couples picnicking, reading books and generally being happy that the sun was out.

After picnic in the park we decided to go to a Greek restaurant that sits on the South Bank of the Thames. We watched the sun go down over London whilst snacking on taramasalata, tsatziki, flat bread, olives, souvlaki, king prawns.. Mmmmm. I just started drooling. The atmosphere was amazing, with a prime view point of St. Paul's Cathedral.

Considering this is our first summery outing of the year, I think it's safe to say that this summer in the city is going to be a good one.

Steak and Ale Pie

2007-04-26T12:57:00.000Z

Proof that Conrad is so good at cooking and I the reason that I am so good at eating:

That Old Chestnut

2007-04-25T18:27:00.000Z

Being 25 and all, I seem to be learning more things about myself as I go along. I know this is one of the things that everyone tells us will happen. You become more used to your skin. You grow into yourself. You understand more who you are.

A minor thing I'm beginning to realise is that I have quite an impulsive, slightly obsessive personality. I find something new and go charging gung-ho into the new 'project'. After a couple of months and after many hours of obsessing, constantly thinking about it, centering my life around it, interest tends to wane. I love blogging. I love feeling like there's somewhere I can write. I have always loved writing, I even flirted with the idea of becoming a journalist at one point.

I am also somewhat of a perfectionist. If I do something, I want to do it perfectly. I don't want to do anything half way or without a million per cent of my energy. My dad always described me (not particularly in a good way) as someone who never had any grey. Everything was always blackest black or whitest white - I couldn't have anything in between. I wonder if that is an aspect of perfectionism?

Anyway, the point I'm driving at is that I am finding it difficult to blog right now. There's nothing extremely poetic to talk about, I have no romantic stories, no qwerky descriptions of my daily routine. My need to blog also came from endless hours of boredom at work - this is THANKFULLY no longer the case. Friday is my last day, and it could not come quicker. So I will no longer have 8 hours a day to peruse strangers typed-out lives and dwell on subject titles for a blog post.

Hopefully this won't be the end. Knowing me, as soon as I say I won't blog anymore I'll be posting 10 times a day (remember the whole black or white thing?).

Carrying on in German Tradition

2007-04-17T18:40:00.000Z

This Easter, my parents reminded me of a tradition we took up whilst living in Germany:

The Easter Tree.

At first you might think this is a bit odd, but it became another special addition to Easter-time. My sister and I would decorate eggs ourselves to hang on the tree along with store-bought equivalents.

I was surprised to find that my mom had been storing these eggs all the while, and it was funny to see what my 10/11 year old mind created. Needless to say, Allie's eggs were always a little more intricate and made a little more sense.

The 'twig' aka 'Easter tree' came from my parent's very own contortia tree outisde.

It's good to bring back old traditions that you forgot even existed.

How To Say?

2007-04-17T11:15:00.000Z

I want to write a blog post, but I have nothing to say. Right this second I feel a little bit sleepy, a little bit excited, a little bit head-achy, a little bit tanned, a little bit chilly. This week is kind of a non-week. I got back on Sunday night from 10 days away to Manchester (some might say my 'home-town' if I had one of those) and next week is my last week at work. So, nothing much to say about this week. It's a strange limbo-land where I'm on the edge, full of nervous anticipation, but I'm almost there - I'm at the tipping point.

I had soooo much fun in Mancy-town. Mom and I went wedding dress shopping (of which we are NOT finished. I am going to drag this amazingly fun experience on as long as humanly possible - especially if I get some free champagne out of it!) I decided I don't hate strapless as much as I thought. In fact, I'm actually contemplating buying a strapless wedding dress! Who would have thunk it?

We went to go look at yet another wedding chapel which was PERFECT. It is the oldest chapel in the area (late 1800s I think) out in the country. But it was just too small. I would literally walk about 2 steps and be at the front. So, we're in a bit of limbo with that too at the moment.

We have booked our tickets to go to Japan in June/July for Conrad's brother's wedding. I'm looking forward to this, but it's kind of killing me a little bit that we are just a hop-skip and swim away from the Philippines and we're not going to be going there. I always assumed the next time I would be in that part of the world would be to show Conrad the country that remains so firmly stamped on my heart. I'm thinking of just booking a quick flight on my own and going over there for an afternoon! How is it that I still miss it so bad? I really hope it doesn't overshadow the trip to Japan - that I'll be comparing everything to Manila, and looking lustfully across the sea towards my 3rd 'homeland'. I love it so.

Enough randomness for now. When I get home tonight I'm going to post some piccys of our trip to Manchester. We gave the little mini a run for it's money across a large part of England. He held up well.

Meant To Be? I Think So.

2007-04-05T13:25:00.000Z

The reason I'm being quite sketchy about my new job's description is because I'm a little concerned someone might do a google search looking for it, and find my blog... And I'm not really sure this is how I want to introduce myself into my new life. "Hey guys.. here are all my guts neatly organised and spilt out onto a blog page!! Enjoy!"

What I can and want to say is that it's for a chidren's charity that believe in social justice. There is a small group of people that have come together to research into a cause, and I am going to be the administrator for it. This role seems to fit so neatly into my life right now for a few reasons:

- The only real experience I have in the workplace is pretty much administrational. This is such a good way to use that experience to get in the door, and knock their socks off, then going on to single-handedly save the world.

- My degree was cultural studies/sociology course with a massive emphasis on research. They really seemed to be happy about this.

-My new boss is amazing. She is at the most 35 years old, and she is absolutely everything what I want to be in ten year's time. When I was talking about why I wanted to leave my job and go into charity, she said that she had also worked for Goldman Sachs in a similar role to what I do. The glint in her eye proved to me that she knew EXACTLY what I was talking about and why I was totally at the end of my tether as far as life in this environment goes. She may as well have pulled out a walky talky and whispered "She's one of us! Get. Her. Outta there!"

-At the end of the interview, I actually said "This is all so exciting...!" At the time I thought this may have been the death of me. But I think they actually liked my crazed, inappopriate displays of excitement.

-I was a bit scared about the massive pay cut I was going to have to take to change roles after leaving a blood-sucking money driven environment (that obviously pays quite well). I was given an offer that was quite low yesterday and I was nervous, but it wasn't going to stop me going for the job. Today, my boss called me and told me that she thought the offer they had given me was unfair due to my experience and how much she thinks I'm bringing to the project. She changed her offer. It's still not as much as I'm making now, but it's about half the amount of paycut that I was taking before. I couldn't believe it. I hadn't even mentioned the fact that I was upset about it, she just offered it to me.

-I'm actually going to be helping people. Seriously.

This job has changed my life. And I haven't even started it yet. It fits in to everything that I want to be - I can actually see my future now, and it is so so so happy.

And The Future Seems Sunny

2007-04-04T14:08:00.000Z

So I went for an interview yesterday at a large children's charity based in London.

About 5 minutes after I got home from the interview, I got a call, and I got the job.

I have been in a state of dis-belief and excitement since yesterday at approximately 5pm. I am so excited. I am so in awe. It's as though everything was meant to be.

I feel peace.

All pieces of my messed up puzzle of a life seem to be fitting together quite well - for the first time ever.

Perhaps I am okay at this 'being an adult' thing after all.

Is it because I'm Postmodern?

2007-03-23T08:09:00.000Z

Post modernity does not only exist in art and film. Post modernity is a way of life. My sister has claimed many a time that the way I think is very 'postmodern'. But what is it? Why is the term so hard to put your finger on? My degree actually focused on post modernity as a major part of one of my modules. I still find it difficult to define.

Mostly postmodernism is used to describe art, film, and architecture. In this way I have inherently postmodern taste. Among my favourite movies are;

1.) Memento, where the story starts at the conclusion and scene by scene takes it back to the beginning.

2) Mulholland Drive - One of David Lynch's many stylish yet confusing movies. I was spell-bound the entire way through (while my not-so- impressed friends decided to go into the other room). For the next couple of weeks, I asked almost everyone I knew if they had watched it. And if they had, I wanted a full-on discussion about what it all meant. What does the blue box signify?

One of my current favourite pieces of 'art' is an instillation in the Tate Modern. You walk into a dark room with an entire wall that is a screen. The screen is split into about 20 images. In each image there is a different musician from a movie - each screen is going on at the same time - sometimes people are playing trumpets, sometimes they're singing, at one point every single person is playing a different kind of drum. The musicians in each screen do not relate to one another, yet at the same time they compliment each other greatly. Sometimes they clash. It is immensely difficult to describe, but when you're watching it, it evokes immense emotions. (well, for me anyway.)

The Urban Dictionary calls it;

"The idea that there is no objective meaning, only subjective meaning, the meaning one brings to a thing, irrespective of the intent of the author, or of reality."

Many definitions of postmodernism include the word 'rejection' - the idea that it is a response to modernity, or to previous generation’s idea of art and culture. It is perhaps a reaction to structured life. The world has opened up to everybody through television, the internet, in ways people may not have imagined it would. We have more opportunities then before, and people are less happy to be defined, the structures of film and art are fuzzy and unstructured.

"It is the breaking of traditional frames of genre, structure and stylistic unity.. it values the play and juxtaposition of ideas from different contexts"

Due to the globalisation of cultures, there are different influences in our lives that may not have been there before. We are more concerned with a short film clip somebody has created in Japan, more excited by an event taking place in Peru - Everything we read, hear, see becomes a part of our cultural make-up. Therefore our culture gets more varied. This will of course effect the music that is made, the art that is created. Part of our postmodern selves crave new sights, new sounds, new insights. Art becomes the graffiti we see on the way to work, the internet site with letters from anonymous people to unknown recipients.

Why am I going on about this?

This postmodern way of living does not exist only in the cultural aspects of our lives. Perhaps the reason I can't find a job is due to my high expectations. Perhaps it is because I want a piece out of every pie and that just isn't possible? Because we know about what is out there, because we know what is possible, we can not be satisfied? Does our job actually define us like it used to? If so, how does one get the job to define us? And since we are so against being put in a box and 'defined’ how on earth do you figure that one out? Who are we and what are we meant to be doing???

Being of typical postmodern mind, these are just my thoughts at this moment in time. Perhaps tomorrow I will blame something else for my lack of .. fulfillment (for want of a better word). The lethal mixture of TCK-ness and postmodern ideology make it difficult to be decisive about my life, about what I want, about what I should be doing. I sometimes just want to give up trying and just be normal. But there is still the 8 year old inside of me that expects me to be the best I can be, to satisfy the cravings of abnormality and individualism; to make some kind of name for myself in this massive world that is just at the edge of my fingertips.

The PostSecret I wish I had written

2007-03-23T08:01:00.000Z

www.postsecret.blogspot.com

Tune Me Up

2007-03-21T11:19:00.000Z

There are a couple of songs I'm listening to at the moment that get me 'right there'. Right in the place that makes me want to copyright the song as my own. Or jump out of the seat and try to teach myself to play the guitar for the 12th time. Or go back in time and become the angst-ridden teen that had enough energy and passion to write poetry late into the night. Or catch a plane, arrive at their home and ask "how is it you know my thoughts?"

1.) Anais Mitchell's child-like voice and unexpected note changes make me a little excited. They also make me want to go read up on my Greek literature so I can keep up with the references in her songs. My favourite at the moment is 'Your Fonder Heart'. The lulling sweet and simple finger-picked guitar mixed with a heart-felt floaty voice;

www.myspace.com/anaismitchell

2) Whilst living in a small town on the border of Switzerland and Germany, there were not too many English-speaking people around and one would tend to hang out with those your own age. One of these such people my own age was a boy called Aaron. I haven't seen him since those early pre-teen years where we would sled, hang out at the playground and shirk our homeschooling hours, getting into as much mischief as possible.

Turns out he made himself into a pretty good songwriter. And decided to write a little ditty about his childhood:

www.myspace.com/aaronpaulbeckum .

I actually try and stop myself from listening to his songs because they really do bring a part of my life back that I feel is personal and private, and it scares me a little bit that someone I haven't seen since I was 12 is out there singing about it. There aren't too many people in the world who can sing about swimming down the rhine in high-time summer time. One particular song 'Breaking Even' has hit it home the past couple of days, at a time when I'm beginning to realise that everywhere I go, something is slightly off. At a time when I kind of just want to pack up the house and go travelling for a year in an overly hot country where I won't know where I am or what date it is.

3) The third one is going a little out of the folk genre and moving swiftly on to some kind of electronica. Artist is Scroobius Pip and song being 'Letter from God to Man'. I don't think this guy is a Christian, and I definitely don't agree with a couple of things he says in the song i.e.: "I was a simple being that happened to be the first to yield such powers". However, this song made me stop in my tracks, gave me chills from my little pinky toe to the bottom of my hairs. I found it extremely beautiful and sad all at the same time:

www.myspace.com/lesacvspip - Letter from God to Man.

Frozen Fingers

2007-03-20T17:01:00.000Z

We had a bit of mild winter here in London-town, and it appears that Spring is more then making up for it. On Saturday we were walking around in the sunshine with T-shirts, yesterday and today we have had snow. What is going on? So here is a bit of snow, London style. Not so impressive, is it?

In fact, can you call this snow? It looked like snow from my window, but I'm not sure if it even qualifies. I turned around to get the camera and it stopped. Anyways, it is chill-some.

While I had the camera out, I thought I might do a bit of 'You've Been Framed' shots of my mini-apartment and see if they say anything about life here right now.

In complete contrast to the somewhat blizzardy weather, here is the blooming jasmine growing on our windowsill.

Next to my faux fireplace stands a proud Filipino hunter (who just happens to be stood next to a cute looking Tunisian camel)

Many a long evening spent reading..

My favourite new summer bag (some might say bought a little pre-maturely)

Two wise Tunisian men and an excitable fern watch over us throughout the days

The growing family portrait wall (Brooke this may be a hint that we need a new picture of the kiddoes! Hehe) The other two pictures are of Conrad's brother and fiance and of all Conrad's cousins in a row.

A mask or two from the plentiful stores we found somewhere in the labyrinth of cobble-stone streets of Venice

By far the largest and fattiest addition to my kitchen cupboard: Jif. But oh how the creamy goodness brings happiness to my soul. It's even more special because I have to get imported from the States.

And as a parting gift, I give you the greeting hung up next to the door.

Shalom.

Gerflunk.

2007-03-15T12:45:00.000Z

Pumpernickle. Achinobob. Kadinkiwink. Bubblejenapoop. Karingadingblob.

My brain is smoosh grey jelly type substance. I have spent more time and energy the past couple of days thinking of reasons why I wasn't blogging that I could have spent most of it thinking of something interesting to blog about.

The most notable thing to write about is what I like to call "The Curse of the D-gene" (sorry Dad!) For some unknown reason, out of all the wonderful things to inherit from my father, I have inherited the rare Migraine gene. And it ain't a nice thing.

Yesterday started off quite nice. I was walking happily to work, content with the day and the beautiful sunshine, excited about the fact that I actually left my scarf at home and could breathe in the thick (albeit smoggy) sun-beam filled air. Whilst waiting for my bus I started having to squint my eyes to see the numbers on the on-coming buses. I tried reading the text on my phone to see if it was just the sun bouncing off of the metal and shining into my eyes. I couldn't see the text on my screen. I glanced over to the advertisement on the bus and tried to focus. It was blurry and my eyes just couldn't pic up any of the shapes.

I panicked when I realised I was starting to see what I like to call 'white-flashy-things'. Every time I tried to read anything or look at anyone, they became invisible. I had to sit down because I couldn't really see what I was doing. It was as if somebody had taken a close-up picture of my eyes with a super-bright flash on. Closing my eyes was not an option because if I closed them, I probably wouldn't be able to open them again.

I started rifling through my bag just *hoping* I had remembered to put my mini-pack of extra-strong pain killers in that morning. I had remembered, but I only had one left in there. I got annoyed at myself, but remembered that sometimes it didn't get as bad as normal, so hoped today would be one of those days. I got on the bus, thankful that there was a seat near the front.

Eventually when I got to work I was feeling totally fine. The white flashy things had gone; I had taken my extra-strength pain killer and was happily replying to emails on my desk. It was about 20 minutes into my shift that a dull ache started presenting itself at the lower back of my head which connected to my neck, and I started feeling a little queasy. I went to get a small glass of cold water thinking it was just because the pain killer hadn't kicked in yet. My eyes started to hurt. I tried to squeeze down on my eye sockets with my fingers to get rid of the pain. When people spoke to me it felt like there was thick sheet of perspex between my ears and their mouth. Every small task took the maximum amount of effort. I drank some more water and promised myself it would go away after a while.

It didn't.

I went to the ladies to sit down in a dark room for a while. I breathed deeply trying not to feel the nausea creeping down from the top of my head through to behind my eyes, around the temples and finally down to my stomach. I did not want to be sick at work. I think I was in there for about 20 minutes but time was only calculated by concentrating on how deep my breathing was and how I was going to make it back to my desk.

Luckily enough, when I did go back to my desk I looked as sick as I felt and was able to go home. The bright sun outside was not a happy sight. I kept looking for a place to walk where the sun wouldn't be in my eyes. I walked as fast as I could, trying not to pound too hard on the concrete, sending instant pain tremors through my head. As soon as I got home I went to bed, covering up my head with the darkest blanket I could find, hoping the children's happy playing noises outside would fade away quickly with sleep. I woke up 7 hours later feeling groggy and surprised that I had slept so deeply.

I have been to several doctors for these migraines and none of them could hazard a guess to why I get them. They are completely random - I once didn't have one for several months, and I once had two in a week. I've tried different pain killers for them, and none of them really work. They just dull the pain slightly. The only cure is to go to bed - and hope that you get to bed before you start with the puking.

The worst thing about getting migraines is my complete understanding that people do not believe me. There is always a look of disbelief when I tell someone - it's like a get-out-of-jail-free card for work. One moment I'm chatting away happily with colleagues, the next I can't lift my head off of the desk and can't move from my chair. How do you explain this to someone who doesn't know the complete and utter horror of a migraine?

Jeroomeepoop.

How To Make Rachel Laugh

2007-03-12T22:09:00.000Z

Firstly, take a picture of the three of you while making a slightly weird face:

After re-positioning, take yet another picture making a (only slightly!) weird face:

After deciding that she should hold the camera, pose like you're a strange stalker trying to get in on the Ben and Rachel action.

..Making her miss off her entire face the next time round because she's laughing so hard.

Take it to the next level by making silly faces when she thinks you're finally taking it seriousy:

..Making her laugh so hard she looks like she's in in serious pain:

Mission Accomplished.

Thoughts as they come into my head

2007-03-09T10:24:00.000Z

It has been over a week since I last posted.

I have either been too tired, emotionally drained, annoyed, cranky, gripy, moany, sleepy, generally not-nice-to-talk-to-let-alone-read-about-my-bad-mood to write. My stomach has been having issues this week and I'm not entirely sure if it's to do with being stressed at work, or what. But it ain't been pleasant, that's for sure!

This past Saturday Conrad and I went to go and get my engagement ring re-sized. When I passed over my ring my entire spirit just went completely down. Symbolism is such a powerful thing. As soon as we left the store I felt kind of empty. I stare at this thing so much and it's such a constant presence on my finger, that when it was gone, I felt something quite important was missing. I wanted people to know that I was engaged! I wanted to play with it when I was on the bus! I wanted to gaze at it for hours on end when I was supposed to be doing work! Last night I got it back again and I felt immense relief when it slipped back on my finger. Not only does it fit perfectly, but I have a new-found respect for how much the ring symbolises. This ring will be on my finger until I die, and shows everybody that I am in love and am completely taken. I just didn't realise how attached I would become to it in only 2 weeks.

It's my Brother's Birthday today. Please go look at his art and appreciate the Greatness Of Nick. He will always be 18 (the age when he moved away to America) in my mind. Or the brother who swung me round and round in the garage and accidentally pulled my arm out of the socket. The brother who wanted to pull out my loose tooth by attaching a piece of string to the doorknob and slamming it. The brother who triple dared Allie and I to jump off of Diesselhof Bridge (which I didn't!) with him over the Rhine. The brother that plays super-loud Pet Shop Boys or thrash metal at 8 o'clock on a Saturday morning. Happy Birthday Nick!!!!

Ben (a.k.a. My Bridesman - is there a correct term for that?) is coming to visit tonight for the weekend. Granted, whatever we do, we'll have fun. I'll try and take as many stupid and ridiculous pictures as humanly possible and subject them to you next week.

I have been browsing magazines for wedding dresses the past couple of weeks. Apparently, strapless dresses are in. And it's impossible to find anything else. I don't heart strapless. As of yet, I haven't found anything that makes me want to pass out with glee. I have realised that I do heart trains:

We haven't been able to set a date yet, because we're having Church issues. This is the Church that I really really really really really really really really want to have it in:

It's intimate and picturesque. I can seriously see myself standing right there, getting ready to walk in and get married.

But apparently if you book a wedding in this chapel, you book everything: flowers, minister, hymns (organ player and all!!), photographer.. What is the point in that? We are the kind of people that want a very personalised service. I know exactly what kind of flowers I want, what kind of music I want, and the most important thing is that I want my dad to perform the ceremony.

When we went to go visit the Vicar, he was kind of stumped. He had obviously never had any kind of request such as this before. All we wanted to do was rent the chapel (not him!) and he wasn't sure how to take it. We are still in 'negotiations' at the moment, meaning that I have emailed him and he hasn't gotten back to me. This has kind of stopped my planning in it's tracks, because I have absolutely no idea what we'll do if we can't get this chapel! Boo!

That's all I can think of right now - Must go back to work in the drone colony.

Something That Irks Me

2007-03-01T13:45:00.000Z

Wherever I am in the world, people make negative comments about people in other countries. Not necessarily racist comments, but little sentences that make me cringe.

Regardless of what country I am in, what culture I am defending, there is always some kind of negative comment and assumptions and wildly inappropriate generalisations. (fyi, they're hardly ever aimed at me - they are totally innocent. But it just irks me nonetheless.)

'Only in America would a woman sell her baby to buy a car'... Excuse me? How do you know? Have you ever lived there? Do you know how large a country it is? How many people live there? That saying 'America' is like generalising the entire population of Europe?

Oh wait.. I've heard that too. Whilst in America I was asked if 'they' had TVs in Europe. And if my house in Manchester, England was anywhere near the Eiffel Tower.

Oh and whilst living in England I was asked if everyone lived in grass huts in the Philippines. And if we had librarys there. Upon telling someone I lived in the Philippines she said;

'Oh yeah, that Jewish country'.

'Sorry?'

'The one that's in the Bible'.

'I don't follow..'

'The Philippines.. It's that Jewish place in the Bible.'

It was upon further confused contemplation that I realised she was talking about the book of Philippians in the Bible. Reading the word in print, it it doesn't seem so hard to confuse them - But, really?

I wish I had these all written down, because these are the only ones I can remember. I have been asked some weird stuff.

Just last night over dinner, the ladies at the next table were exclaiming how 'the Australians.. they're all sloppy. They just do things that way'. I think generalisations are just so weird. Terms like 'They always..' 'The Germans do this..' Etc. It kind of makes me feel a bit sick.

I just want people to realise that everywhere is the same. Everyone is the same. We are all one people. Nobody is better then anyone else, regardless of what kind of house they live in, whether they talk loud on the phone, if they have to walk a while to get water out of a well, if they only have one car rather then 3 - if their family doesn't own a TV .. Where we live is purely a matter of where to point at on a map. Our world's colourful cultural patterns are so beautiful. I just want everyone to understand them so they can appreciate the design to it's fullest.

Hectic

2007-02-28T11:17:00.000Z

My life has become slightly hectic and busy as of late. I know it will calm down soon enough, but for now I am finding myself too busy to blog!

Our supervisor is leaving from work, so we've gone from 4 people to 3 - this is taking away the hours of free time I used to have where I could wile away and ruminate through my keyboard. I don't have time to think about my feelings, let alone write about them!

This weekend was good. The time with future in-laws and step-in-laws went quickly and was rather enjoyable!

Today is Conrad's 27th Birthday, but I've talked about him enough lately that he's turned into some kind of local celebrity.

So rest assured, I'm still here, I still have things to say - Just do not have the time!

All Roads Lead Back To Manchester

2007-02-23T18:25:00.000Z

We are off to Mancy-town for a three-day weekend to celebrate with parents and the like. On Saturday night Conrad's mom and his step-dad are coming over to my m & d's house for some dinner and frollicks.

I am so privileged to have so many people to celebrate with. Thanks to everyone who wrote comments - they all meant a lot to me!

I may write whilst in Manchester, I may not. But I will leave you with something a little bit special before I go:

Do you have something you'd like to say?

2007-02-21T10:46:00.000Z

I will try and drag myself away from the piles of Bride and Wedding magazines for a couple of minutes to try and finish off the mammoth job of describing what will now officially be called The Week Where I Learned How To Literally Float On Air.

I think I left off around the time we started to get ready for dinner in Paris on Valentines Day. I had a few suggestions of where to go for dinner (thanks Karina!) but Conrad seemed to have a different plan. He looked up the best 20 restaurants in Paris and decided on one of them - the Restaurant De Palais Royale. In order to get to it, we needed to get off at the Louvre Metro and walk our way through the gates of Palais De Royale and through the peaceful, dim-lit arches surrounding the gardens. The atmosphere was so old-worldy and electric around the gardens - It felt like we had arrived onto another century.

The day was just turning into evening as we arrived - the sky creeping into a deep metallic blue colour. Conrad had decided beforehand that we should doll ourselves up and make it an eventful night. He explained it as an excuse for him to wear his suit and buy a brand-spanking new tie and for me to wear my favourite baby-doll dress and boots that I can never find an occasion for. We haven't ever celebrated Valentines Day the whole of our relationship, so he said this would be the Valentines Day we made up for all the rest of them.

I was swept with an overwhelming nervousness as we entered the granduous walkway to the restaurant. Conrad was acting suspiciously quiet and smug, making me feel slightly on edge and full of confused anticipation. This was truly the most elegant, romantic restaurant I had ever been to in my life. I felt so adult, so confident, so blissfully worthy of such an amazing venue for Valentines Day.

The waiters were probably the most friendly that I have ever had - the table had a card addressed to us saying 'happy valentines' in French and a small silver-plated heart that we could take home as a keep-sake. The dinner was absolutely outstanding - Traditional French food with a modern kick.

I don't think we talked much throughout dinner. Conrad still had that wistful look in his eyes with a strange sparkle showing up every now and then. Whilst eating our deserts and ordering cappuccino's, his face gradually got paler and more ghost-like. When the table next to us left, he got a conspiratal face and sort of stood up and made his way over to my side of the table.

I started giggling.

He sat next to me and we just looked at each other. I just wouldn't stop giggling. I don't think either of us remember much of what was said those first couple of seconds. I think he said 'do you know why I've come over here' and I think I giggled a little bit more.

He brought out a little box.

He said something along the lines of 'let's do this properly'

Getting down on one knee next to the table, he opened up the ring box so I could peek at it's sparkliness "Rachel LastName, would you would marry me?'

Now this is where I would like to have paused, played it cool pause.. contemplate.. leave him wondering why on earth I hadn't said yes yet.. soak in the moment..maybe cry a little bit..

What really happened was I grabbed the ring out of the box, shoved it on my fourth finger and exclaimed a loud 'Yes' a little more adamently then was particularly necessary.

It was absolutely perfect. If anyone asked me what the perfect way to propose to me would be, it would have been this. The ring that he had chosen was exact to my taste like I had chosen it myself.

I'm sure anybody who knows me outside of blog-world understands how much this meant to me. Conrad and I have always had a different view of marriage - I have always wanted to get married early and bumble through life trying to figure it out the hard way. He is more English in the way that he wanted to be 1 million per cent sure and to be old enough, mature enough, confident enough to be sure that this really will be it; that when he puts that ring on my finger I will be wearing it until we are 110 years old and can be an heirloom for our grandchildren.

Little did I know that when he did decide on marrying me, that he would be the best fiance ever, be the best wedding-planner ever, be the best counter-part to me ever. That he would do his utmost best to make up for all of my waiting and wondering.

I truly do have the best fiance in the world.

So after our 3-course meal and proposal we made hushed but excited phone calls to our parents, each time trying not to cry or choke on our chocolate truffles. We wandered down various avenues to the most Parisian brasserie we could find, ordered champagne and sorting through plans that had been kept inside our heads for months - writing guest lists on napkins and making plans for musicians that would never dream of doing somebody's wedding.

Well I think that's enough for one post... And I didn't even fit in the Eiffel Tour and Notre Dame! I shall have to post again soon..

**Apologies for quality of photographs - the old camera phone isn't so great at night**

So this is what they call Walking on Clouds

2007-02-19T12:15:00.000Z

I'm quite reticent to speak of this past week on my blog. I can't help but think that once I start writing it out, the magic will be spun like an intricate web onto my blog and out of reality. The positive nervous energy I feel might just float out and stick to the screen and be out of me forever. I never want to stop feeling as full of love and happiness as I do right now.

*sigh*

There is also so much to say about the past 7 days. I had such a good time that when we got in the black cab at Waterloo to go home, I couldn't for the life of me think of our address. I had become so detached from reality. When we got off the train in Waterloo and I saw the Millennium Eye in the background, I completely burst into tears. I wasn't sad to be home, I wasn't sad to be back in reality - but as I was stepping off onto the platform, I looked down at my hand and saw that the ring was indeed still there; That our engagement and whispered plans were not just part of a black and white film script. My full-up heart swamped with Paris and Valentines, roses, lit-up Eiffel Towers and beautiful cliches. Conrad kept having to repeat 'will you marry me' over and over again every place we went, so I actually got it firm and strong in my system. This wasn't a crazy dream, he hadn't just had a little bit too much to drink - my dream had become a clear, undeniable, ring-wearing reality.

So now, my friends I will give a little summary of Valentines Week in Paris. It's going to be tough deciding which memories to share and which pictures are best. I love them all - the tiny moments where we peeked around the corners and realised we were closer to Notre Dame then we first realised - the moment I was sat there realising I could definitely live happily in France, the moment I saw millions of paparazzi swarming around in the restaurant and realising I had just laid eyes on Sharon Stone...

So many.. To give you a little bit of background, this was my forth time in Paris. My first was at the age of 12 when I went with an 'honour choir' to sing with International Schools all over Europe. The second time was with my family.. I think I was 13. Third and forth time was with Conrad 5 years ago, and then 2 years ago. We decided to take in the more relaxed side of Paris - explore the worlds of cafes, brasseries, restaurants, walkways... We had already 'done' all the major tourist attractions, so it felt good just to wander and see where our excited legs would take us.

So we caught the 5:00am train from Waterloo, blinked our eyes and arrived in central Paris. Conrad slept the whole time and I dozed a little here and there. It took less time to get there then it usually does to go visit my folks on the other side of England. Crazy.

Our first port of call was the Sacre Couer. This is the one area of Paris that I hadn't spent much time in before; Montmartre. It's the highest point in the city and has breath-taking views of everything, including the Eiffel Tower. The cloudiness and wintery day just made the views more moody and romantic for me. (from now on, I will try and refrain from using the word 'romantic'. It doesn't even sound like a word anymore to me..)

We then ambled along the cobbled streets, dodging crazy Parisian drivers and popping into boutiques here and there. We eventually ended up buying our first piece of art together in a cute little art shop specialising in scenes of Montmartre, little scenes of cafes and cobbled streets.

We couldn't help but draw comparisons to the film 'Amelie' as many of the scenes were shot around the Sacre Couer.

After stopping here there and everywhere for half-liters of table wine and cups of over-priced coffee, we stumbled upon a candle-lit brasserie type place where the menu and atmosphere looked extra-ordinary. Conrad and I have a bit of a love affair with French food. I can't get enough of it, I dream of it, and even when I've eaten so much I feel sick I keep over-endulging my gutt with it. So to say we had a lovely dinner would be a major understatement. Dinner consisted of fois gras (so creamy!) on soft white baguette followed by a massive old hunk of beef (crispy on the outside, delightfully pink on the inside) with blue-cheese sauce and pepper sauce respectively. By the end of this 'light' meal (on our standards) we were already full - so upset that we couldn't have an after-dinner treat of cheeses.

After dinner we decided to go see the Moulin Rouge building. Having walked about half way there and seeing massive buildings with 'Sexodrome' and 'Live Peep Shows' every other building, with ladies thrusting there who-knows-what at me, we promptly realised we were in the red light district at prime-time red light time. A little flustered and taken aback, we doubled back on ourselves and decided day-light be more of an appopriate time to explore these little avenues.

The next day we woke up pretty late to a slightly rainy Valentines Day. We decided to "wander down the Champs Elysees" and (of course) I had to sing Joni Mitchell the entire way down. Because "I was a free man in Paris.. I was unfettered and alive.. Nobody callin' me up for favours, no-one's futures to decide.." Actually, I think that's the only reason we went there - so we could sing that song.

I realised while walking down there up towards Concorde, looking back and seeing the Arc De Triumphe - February was a nice time to visit Paris. The streets were empty, I felt like we were the only people in the world.

The misty rain settled a kind of happy peacefulness over the city. It was nice to have to cuddle up for warmth and take refuge in a warm side-walk cafe. This time round we wandered through the Louvre gardens looking for the perfect baguette place. And we found it. Right around the corner from the Louvre, we had the best baguette with ham and cheese and pickle. If I died right after my baguette, I would have been a happy woman.

I'm afraid that's all I can write for now. My fingers are starting to twitch, and my ring is too sparkly for me to concentrate. Ha. Just had to mention my ring at some point in here..

I'll leave you with a couple other points I noticed at Paris this time round that I hadn't noticed my other trips - You can also call this 'a few helpful tips':

When crossing a road, do not assume that the walking green man means you won't get run over. The cars pretty much wait till you start moving and gun it right at you. A common phrase that we would use is 'run for your lives!!'
At any point in the day you will see at least 3 people walking down the road with a long baguette. Nothing in it - just a long baguette. More often then not, they will be chomping down on it like it's the most natural thing in the world.
As a lady, when excusing yourself to go to the restroom, you say that (in English, because I never took French class) you're excusing yourself to go to the 'little corner' - petit cour.
Parisian women seemingly do not have larger feet then size 40. If you ask for a larger size in a shop, the sales lady/gent will laugh at you in your face.
The Metro has a tendency to smell like farts. More specifically, baguette farts. My conclusion was that because so many people eat baguettes, and lots of cheese, there is a constant aura of baguette-fart smelliness. I'm not kidding.

The Eiffel Tower is on it's own in the middle of nowhere. There's no accidentally stumbling across it - You have to trek across all of Paris to get close.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of our Parisian heaven.

I got engaged in Paris

2007-02-18T14:20:00.000Z

I'm very happy right now, floating on clouds.

More details of Paris to come!

I Love Paris in the Springtime...

2007-02-12T21:25:00.000Z

I will be gone for a few days.. and hopefully will bring back pictures of happiness and joy.

A quick update on the Cabbage Soup Diet: It works. And I didn't cheat!! I will write more about this later, because it has made me wondorously happy. It's a good kick-start to a long-term healthy eating/exercise plan. I always hate the beginning of losing weight because you can never see results in the first week or so. This gives instant results, and it just worked really well. I feel self-confident enough to breeze through the Parisian streets with grace and style.

So.. for now.. Fare thee well.

What The Scanner Saw

2007-02-12T10:43:00.000Z

Mom and Dad bought us a pretty new copier/scanner/printer for Christmas and I have just gotten round to making use of it's wonders and the endless hours of happiness it can bring to me.

I don't have many of my old pictures here in London (I am planning on bringing them all down next time I'm in Manchester) but from wandering around the house and picking certain pictures, here is what the scanner has seen today:

This was taken on the back of a scooter on the first holiday Conrad and I went on together in Tunisia. It was baking baking hot that day and we drove around for hours - taking in the sights of Carthage and then back around again. We were usually the only people on the road. This is also the first and only time I have ever had heat stroke. Because we were wizzing along without a care in the world, we forgot to re-apply sunscreen. And I paid for it later.

My brother and the clouds.

Conrad the Emperor. (circa 2006) This was a children's play that Conrad was in when he was in acting school called 'The Nightingale'. It was a very cute story that warmed your heart at the same time.

This is 'anonymous'. Also known as my brother-in-law.

This is Conrad looking very dapper about 30 minutes before his best-friend's wedding. Everyone was so nervous (including the groom) that we all decided to go have a game of pool beforehand.

This is my favourite shot of driving through Michigan. It seems so quintessentially American and captures everything about America that isn't seen in England. If that makes sense.

Placebo

2007-02-08T11:17:00.000Z

I've had a case of the mild sniffles the past couple of days, and I'm desperate to get it all out of my system before we head off to Paris. Being sick on holiday? Probably the worst thing IN THE WORLD. So I've decided to stuff my face (well, controlled stuffing.. only 6 a day) with Echinacea. Apparently it's the miracle herb that will stop colds cold in their tracks.

But does it really work? There are millions of herbal remedies that are getting real publicity by word of mouth around here. For instance, Goji berries and wheatgrass. These fads come round week by week and who knows if they ever make any difference? Is there really any kind of miracle herb/fruit/vegetable that will change our lives?

Goji Berries

As I've said before, they give me zits. And make me crazy-hyper. Apparently they are a 'superfood' which in basic terms means The Best Thing For You Ever. In explanation terms it means they are one of the few foods in the world that our bodies could actually survive on without anything else (except for water of course). They were discovered in the Himalayan Mountains and have been found to have anti-aging effects, strength building powers and generally cure you of everything.

Wheatgrass

It tastes exactly how it looks. Like grass. It is 70% chlorophyll and stops growth of 'unfriendly bacteria'. It also gives your immune system a boost. This is also apparently a 'superfood'. It boosts your energy, has healing powers and is a powerful detox for your body. It also costs £3.00 a shot.

So my question is, how can you ever tell if it works? If it does work, that means you don't get sick - but how do you know you wouldn't have gotten sick anyway? And is this just one giant expensive placebo? Is this just another London thing?

What I do know is that they do work for me. They give me energy and a fresh, energised feeling inside. And if that is fake, well then... I will take it.

Things To Do In London When You're Dead

2007-02-06T17:18:00.000Z

After mom arrived, we decided that going to Madame Tussaud's wasn't such a great idea, so we decided to wander around London and see what kind of mischief we could get into.

We started off our Saturday as any good old-fashioned London tourists would: On the tube.

We decided to start out at a small cafe, drink a little coffee, have a little chat. We were deep in discussion about the future of Southwark when none other but Ken Livingstone (the Mayor of London) overheard our conversation and decided to add his own two cents. Conrad decided that this was the best time to converse with Ken about his views on the congestion charge.

After walking around London streets for a while, we realised that Pirates of the Caribbean 4 was being filmed on location. I went over to talk to my pal, Johny, but Conrad would just not leave us alone for two seconds. I think Johnny was a bit mad at him because he kept just staring at him..

So after all the chin-wagging, we were all a bit hungry. Turns out that Samuel L. Jackson (who just happens to be in London hanging out with Jonny) knew a good place around the corner that did good sushi.

So off we went..

And it was gooooooooooood!

Seeing as we were near Soho, we decided to cut through Leicester Square to get through our next destination. Surprisingly, Tom Cruise was taking a short break from his publicity tour and true to his reputation, was quite happy to pose with my mom.

Tom was in town visiting his new pal David Beckham who had just finished a friendly neighbourhood match down the road. Guess who got to hang out with David for a couple of hours?

We caught David in quite a reflective moment while he was soaking up the sights and sounds of China Town. After all the excitement of meeting the two hotties, we decided to get some double espresso machiatos to warm us up.

And what would a good day out in London be without a bit of a dance? While I was off dancing, mom was brown-nosing with Robin Williams. Apparently Woopie would just not stop butting in to their conversation.

I could not believe my luck when out on the dancefloor I bumped into Shirley Bassey. We couldn't help but break into a chorus of "Hey Big Spender.."

Oh how we danced..

Just imagine what we would have missed out on if we had gone to Madame Tussaud's.