This Weekend (13) ...

Unlucky for some!

So this weekend had a bit of a fuzzy start, what with not being at work last week, but why don't I pick it up on Thursday evening, like I usually do?

1) Pub quiz. There were meant to be six of us in our award winning team, but, for one reason and another, there were only two. In the music round we knew no answers, and were so busy sniggering at our crappness that we forgot to go back and write our guesses in the blanks on page one. Consequence ... second worst team. Ha! At least we weren't worst I suppose.

2) Friday morning, I hopped out of bed, as I did every morning last week, at an unembarrassing 8am, showered, dressed, toast and jam and lots of coffee in the back garden, then to work.

3) I met the lovely Gillian down the road for a tour of E&A Wates. I wasn't really sure what to expect, so it was a lovely surprise to discover that it was a fascinating morning. Behind the shop - a fabulously kitsch, chrome-fronted store, with some amazing (and expensive) furniture, is a workshop where they repair just about any furniture. We were talked through the art of veneering, wood turning, French polishing, upholstering, and it wasn't remotely dry. And what perfect timing! I came home enthused, and ready for a bit more DIY! (Although I did feel a bit guilty that, having been talked to about furniture restoration, I was going home to paint my own furniture. Pah well!)

4) Amelia popped 'round and we sat together in the garden with tea and Amaretti biscuits to write a press release for her forthcoming show. If you'd like to come along, you'll be able to read more about it here, in due course.

5) The Ikea flat-pack wall unit that I bought came in three boxes and said, in big letters, and in diagrams, on the side of the largest, that building it was a job for two men. I thought I'd get the bits out and see how far I could get on my own. When I'd built the frame and got the thing upright an into the alcove, with a hole cut out the back for the power socket, I decided there was probably no need to call in reinforcements to watch me screw the doors on. Am DIY woman! Grr!!

6) Saturday morning. More decorating. Are you spotting a theme? But things were starting to take shape, so it was all very cathartic.

7) I'm slightly ashamed to tell you what I did on Saturday afternoon. But not THAT ashamed. I went to see Eclipse. Now I know that I'm not really the target demographic, but sod it! The four of us went to an afternoon showing, in a screen full of teenaged girls. Oh well ... who needs pride, dignity, self respect, etc etc etc, when they have a semi-naked wolf-boy twitching his pecks on the screen? Not me!

8) My neighbour recently qualified as a plumber and has set up business with a friend. I've been putting off decorating my bedroom for ages because I couldn't work out how to work around a badly placed radiator. But today the two new plumbers came 'round and spent a day painstakingly lifting floorboards and running copper pipes and draining boilers. Bless them, it took hours! And apparently something still needs to be done tomorrow. But the radiator is now in a nice, easily worked around kind of a place, and what do you know? I've inadvertently started decorating another room, just as I was finishing the last one. Rats!!

9) So whilst the boys were grafting upstairs, I was grafting downstairs. The new wall unit got filled with books and games and almost all of my jewellery making kit. The stereo got set up and the wires run into the back of the unit, a lamp got rewired, table tops were varnished, desks were undercoated (twice) and the curtains were finally hemmed and pressed and hung. The room now looks, if not complete, then at least together. Just a top coat on the desk to go, and a few pictures and trinkets, and it'll be done. Hooray! My dining room is tantalisingly close to being too damned nice to eat in!

10) And now here I am. End of my week off. Back in the office in nine measly hours, and NOT in the mood for it! I'm already plotting another week off later in the summer to do the same happy home based pottering again. Meanwhile though, Footloose is on the telly. Marvellous! The tale of a community being brought together by rock and roll and dancing. They don't make 'em like they used to!

Progress report

Midway through the week, and I'm making headway.

My dining suite, previously my parent's 1970s, mahogany stained table and beige velour upholstered chairs, is now "chalk white", and upholstered in bright pink, and looks fab. I've mastered the power drill (well, when I say "mastered" I mean "used") and put up a curtain rail and a radiator shelf. Tomorrow I'm making curtains. Making. Curtains. And then I have a wall unit to put up and I think my dining room will be finished. In fact, it will be transformed.

I'm getting a real kick out of doing all of these very tangible things. Every job makes a difference, and, as one friend said, the smell of paint is the smell of progress. I'm feeling very Ideal Home!

But there are loads of other jobs too.

I've had quotes to replace the two double glazed panels that have blown and gone manky inside, and tomorrow I'll pick one and book that in for next week. Not glamorous, is it? What a dull way to spend money. I'll pay a sizable amount of money for someone to take out windows and put in ... windows. Whoop-de-doo. I know it needs doing, and I know that I'll feel better when they're done, but new windows aren't very exciting, are they? I know that, when I invite my friend's 'round to show them the newly finished dining room, they'll oooooh and aaaaah in all the right places, but the phenomenally more expensive windows won't be noticed. At all. By anyone.

Today I paid a man to put a TV aerial on the roof. Again, a fair chunk of money paid out, and I can see a massive difference - there is no antenna balanced on a box behind the telly now, and I've managed to reduce the huge knot of wires and cables in the corner - so money well spent!

But I can't get other people excited about it, can I? "Would you like to pop 'round and see my new tv aerial?" "No." Fair enough.

It's a harsh lesson in the cost of home ownership. The boring and necessary stuff costs more and pleases less.

Or maybe it's another lesson. The things I'm enjoying most are the things I'm doing myself. Maybe it's just a lesson in the thrill of getting your hands dirty!

Anyway, got to dash. Got curtains to pin!

This Weekend (12) ...

I WAS SOBER!
Hoorah!

But I was also a bit poorly.
Boo.

Just hayfever, I think, which I am suffering from in a "Biblical Plague" kind of a way this year, so I'm dosed up on, I think, four different types of tablet which give the world a pleasing blurry fugginess.

Anyway, the weekend panned out like this ...

1) Before my usual appointment at the pub quiz this week, I had to go to a meeting regarding the Artist's Open House event that we're hosting in October. Nothing amazes me like the ability of artists to stray from the point. At 8pm, having been there for an hour and a half, and having debated whether the event should be called "Open House" or "Open Studio" for around an hour, one of my committee co-members rocked back on his chair and asked if we should break for a cup of tea. I wept quietly in the corner. But I also managed to bagsy a walking tour, and a techy "press the red button now" type tour for my patch, so it was worth the effort.

2) Pub quiz. Diminished team, but we didn't embarrass ourselves. A question for you all, however (no prizes for getting it right this week): Only three Mr Men have teeth. Name any one of them ...

3) On Friday morning, I felt like poo. Poooooo! And with 100 jobs to do this week, I felt that I'd be cheating to not keep going anyway. But I sat down on the sofa to think about what to do first, and woke up an hour and a half later, feeling much better.

4) Which meant that on Friday afternoon I could order my new bedroom carpet, buy a power drill, buy a new wall unit for my dining room, go to Sainsburys and return a mistakenly purchased bra to Marks and Spencer. Rock and roll!

5) On Saturday my parents came to visit. Before they arrived, I had time to have some cakes baked and iced, so I could give the illusion of being a domestic goddess. But they came, they brought plants, we planted them, Dad broke stuff (it's a habit he can't shake when he's at my house), we ate, walked on the Common and I waved them goodbye. A nice compact, bijou kind of a visit. Perfect!

6) Today was the seventh birthday of my neighbour's son. I bought him a little Lego game which he was disproportionately pleased with. As a six year old, seven was all he could think about, but I was struck by what a very little boy he still is. When I was seven I thought I was quite the grown up. I wonder if that's a Girl vs Boy thing or a Big Sister vs Only Child thing, or a Me vs Him thing. I can also remember that, for my seventh birthday party, I wore some slouchy pink dungarees and thought I looked ace. So probably I wasn't half the grown up I thought I was. Probably I was a very little girl still. Odd how you remember things though, no?

7) Whilst I was baking some (more) cakes to take to a friend's house this afternoon, my phone pinged a message from an unknown number. "Tooting, is this your no. still?" "Yes it is! Who's this?" It was someone I had a very lovely date with about five years ago, and never heard from again. I've no idea why he's chosen now to look me up, but we've had a pleasant afternoon exchanging messages, so I chose not to ask him, and enjoy the chat.

8) There was some football on the telly. 'Nuff said.

9) I spent a very lovely afternoon loafing in my friend's back garden, enjoying the sun and the company and lots of food and some food and a bit more food and chatting the unspecified chat of friends. I told them about the flock of parakeets that are currently living around here, and they looked at me as if I were mad. Ten minutes later, a flash of green shot across the garden. "See," I said. They nodded.

10) I have thirty followers! Whoop de doo! I'm going to have a little party RIGHT NOW!

This Weekend (9) ...

... was a long one! (Oh, err, missus!)

Of course, because this is England, it was grey and drizzly and not as warm as it could be, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't marvellous. I mean. A long weekend IS a long weekend. And here's what happened.

1) I was on time for the pub quiz! On time! That's note worthy in itself, but I suspect that anyone not used to my poor time keeping won't be wowed by that. The thing is that not only was I on time, but I was also useful. I was not a spare wheel who played the role of "nodding dog" at the end of the table whilst other people supplied the right answers, as I am most weeks, but I was a useful, question answering, information supplying team member. As such I can confirm that Mr Tickle is orange, post boxes in Spain are yellow, and that the punchline to the Joke Of The Week is "The stakes are too high!" (Chuckle chuckle).

2) The Lovely Gillian couldn't make the quiz (which is not good news, obviously) because she and her husband, The Equally Lovely Garry are fostering a weeny baby girl (which is good news). A baby (a proper weeny crinkly squeaky baby, I mean. Not one of these part-baked small people, but a small, one-week-old baby) must, if you are a foster carer, be the gold at the end of the rainbow, and I am just thrilled for them. I've not yet had the chance to go around for a cuddle (the baby and Gillian), but when I go, I'll obviously be smitten (with the baby and Gillian).

3) Whilst normally, on Friday, I set the alarm for a decent time and hop (fall) out of bed bright and early (slowly and resentfully) this week I decided that I needed a snooze, so I allowed myself the luxury of a lie in. I was woken by a text message from Amelia, wondering if I fancied Doing Lunch. well if that isn't the whole point of not working on a Friday, I don't know what is! So I hot footed to Sainsbury's and bought a multitude of fabulous nice things, and we decided to just graze on cheese, bread and tomatoes in the garden, with copious amounts of coke. And. We. Were. Happy!

4) There were a few things that I tried to do on Friday afternoon, but none really came off, so, tapping in on a bit of found time, I cleared out my bedroom, pulling everything out of all my cupboards and drawers, throwing away holey socks and grey pants, and putting chunky jumpers away for the summer. My room is now as ordered as it can be, given that I don't actually have any bedroom furniture still, and I know where everything is. A miracle!!

5) Saturday was the greyest of grey days. I am going on a swanky day out in a couple of weeks time (more to follow) for which I need a new frock, so I decided I'd hit Kingston and shop, shop, shop. By the time I got off from the bus stop to the town centre, the rain had socked up my jeans to the knees, and down my hair, sticking it to my forehead. Hard, under the circumstances, to think "GLAMOUR." I tried on a heap of things, but struggled to see myself promenading, champagne in hand, in any of them, so in the end bought some pick and mix and a lottery ticket and came home. Oh well. Maybe next time.

6) Amelia's smallest, the fabulous G, made a request for a sleepover at my house some time ago, and arrangement which would offer him and me a bit of playing time, and his mother a bit of quality time with her fella, Curtis. I collected him and we came home to watch DVDs and eat biscuits. (Coraline was ok, but Planet 51 was ace). In the kitchen, whilst cooking his tea, G let out a small fart, and looked at me in a challenging way. "Aren't you going to say "excuse me"?" "Curtis never does."

7) Eurovision. The annual battle of wills. I say I won't watch it ever year. It's truly dreadful. But then I click on, just for a minute, and end up watching to the end. Poor old England. Poor old us. Last position. Again. Poor old us.

8) Sunday lunchtime on a bank holiday weekend is, surely, the most luxurious time in the world. I met with some friends for lunch at a pub in Wimbledon to watch the football, have a drink and enjoy a long lunch. One thing lead to another. And I got home at 11pm. Pah well. It's a long weekend. What's a girl to do?

9) So I had a slow start to today. A nice big stodgy breakfast and a long chat with my mother on the blower. And then a nice walk to The Rookery, a secret (not very secret) garden at the top of Streatham Common with a friend, before retiring to the pub and setting the world to rights. I'm sure that Bank Holidays are meant to be about more wholesome pursuits than quenching a hangover with Merlot, but it works for me.

10) And now, as I type this, I watch Glee. I know it's trashy, and teeny, and all, but it's becoming my dirty little secret. Why was there no Glee club when I was at school? Bugger that! Why isn't there a Glee club in Tooting now?! Perhaps it can be my new project.

This Weekend (7) ...

I feel a little like I've just bowled from one "This Weekend" to another this week, such has been the franticness (franticity? Francosity?) of the week. Still, here we are again ...

1) A rare thing. A Thursday night with no quiz. Calamity!! But it means that I can accept a request from the lovely Amelia to babysit for her little boy for a couple of hours. I collect him from a mutual friend's house, where he and her husband are perched on the sofa, wrapped in a game of Super Mario. Unable to distract either of them, I settle in the armchair to wait, and realise after a while that I'm equally absorbed. "Try spin jumping on that box," I suggest, and realise that I've become one of them!

2) Having wrestled Small Boy away from the Wii controls, and home, I successfully cajole him into his pyjamas and then into bed. When his mother gets home, we are snuggled in bed together whilst he reads me a story about talking crocodiles. I'm not sure who's more surprised by the scene of calm - her or me!

3) After a good gossip with Amelia (we specialise, when together, at setting the world to rights in record time), I run home to meet gorgeous Gillian to talk over a new crafting project that she's got in mind for us. A quick yak-yak-yak, and we settle to the job in hand, and quickly agree a rough format, some early promotional activities, and points of action. (Nothing more on this for now, but watch this space!) How lovely to work on a project with someone of the same no-nonsense attitude as me!

4) Last week was a fairly busy one, and made more tiring by having started the week on a terrible Sunday night's sleep. Normally Friday mornings have a strict getting-up time, but this weekend I treat myself to a lie in. What luxury to wake up after normal work start time, and be able to dig down under the duvet for an extra mini-doze. When I finally haul myself out of bed I feel fully rested for the first time in a week. Bliss!

5) After a quick breakfast with a friend and her husband, we discover that we all need a trip to the local DIY and garden centre, so I offer them a lift. My car, a Figaro, is technically a four seater, but the back seat is really little more than a shelf. The trip there is cosy. The trip home however is nothing short of farcical - three tall people, three sacks of compost, one large potted begonia, five empty plant pots, one pair of long-handled tree loppers, and assorted other goodies all get stacked, in strict order, in my tiny car, to the huge amusement of others in the car park.

6) As soon as I'm home, I pull on my mucky old jeans and a floppy t-shirt, and hit the garden. With the radio on, the time flies, and weeding seems like no kind of chore before the more interesting digging, potting, planting starts. I now have four tomato plants, two pepper, five beans and four strawberries in pots and beds, ready to be coaxed into baring fruit. Plans for fruit trees and raspberry canes next year abound! Has anyone ever been truly self sufficient from a terrace house garden, I wonder? Would a couple of chickens be a bridge too far?

7) Early Saturday morning I head south for a weekend with fab friends in Arundel. Last week was my dearest friend's birthday, so a trip has long been on the cards. It's a familiar journey on a route that the car can almost do for itself, and it strikes me on the way that going to visit them is almost as much like coming home as going to my own family's home.

8) The planned birthday celebration is a trip to the Drive In. Yes ... you read correctly. Plumpton Racecourse, for one night only, is turned into the All American drive in, with a showing of Grease being the main attraction. Five girls pack into the car to watch a film that we've seen 100 times before, and we chat amiably as we watch. Once in a while someone sings a few bars, or comments on fashions, or the fact that a school of 17 year olds all look around our age. After a time, H. observes, "this is definitely the most random thing I've ever done." All parties agree.

9) For the first time in all my trips to West Sussex, this morning we head for Arundel Castle. My friend's husband explains, "these days, the family only live in that wing," indicating a building which my whole house would comfortably fit inside about thirty times over. "They had to scale down," he says, with no hint of humour. We speculate on whether we could cope with a life living in a castle ourselves, and whether we can recreate the image of the dining hall in our own dining rooms. The idea of this building having been a home for nearly 1000 years is wonderfully overwhelming.

10) The first open meeting for this year's Wandsworth Artist's Open House took place this evening, largely to drum up support and participants, but also to gauge feeling about more promotion of local events this year. Three new attendees got the buzz going - how lovely to have found new people in our wee community to take part in such a lovely event (and selfishly, how lovely to have found three new potential friends!) and enthusiasm for this year's even abounds. I've found myself wondering this evening how to tone down the enthusiasm for a couple of weeks yet (the event isn't until October) but also that having too many ideas is a fairly lovely problem to have!

Share and share alike

I have noticed that, when I drink, a lot of things happen.

I talk a lot more shit. A. Lot. But it's all interesting shit. I know all the words to all songs ever written, and prove it readily and loudly. And I'm a lot more attractive to everyone. I also find myself saying, "yes" a lot more than my sober, more circumspect self would.

It is for the last of these reasons that, in a couple of weeks, I have a Swiss girl coming to stay with me.

I was in the pub, with a couple of colleagues, when one said that he knew someone who was coming to London for a few weeks to improve her English, and needed somewhere to stay. And like that (*clicks fingers*) I was saying, "she can come and stay with me."

Now, someone (who will remain nameless) has suggested that I use the time I have with someone who says things like, "I am thankingful very much," to introduce some fake English words*. Others think it's potentially time consuming, some think it's interesting, and the people who know me best realise that it might end in tears.

I have, since student days, lived with two people. The first was a slightly obsessive compulsive girl, who was slightly mental but actually, in the main, either somewhere else, or on good form. In the main, we had a good time. In the main, it was ok.

The second though. Phewy! She was a bit crazy. Actually, that's not fair. I'm selling her short. She was absolutely fricking fruitloop! We lived together for a year, and it was the longest year of my life.

She was a smoker, which I knew when we took the place together, and, in itself, wasn't a problem. But I objected slightly that she used anything she could find to flick her fag ash into. Still, all was fine until I bought her an ashtray and asked her to use that instead of my wineglasses, and she threw a benny. And the glass in use at the time. A minuscule over reaction, perhaps.

Speaking of reactions, one evening I came home to the smell of gas. She had left the tap on the gas hob open a smidge. To be fair, it could have happened to anyone. So I went into the lounge (which led to the kitchen) and said, "I can smell gas." "Can you?" she said, looking at me vacantly, "I can't." Then she took out her cigarette lighter, and sparked up. AAAGGGHHH! I pointed out the stupidity of what she was doing, and she flounced from the room, ranting. All my fault apparently.

Oh, there were so many examples of abject idiocy! The food that went into the freezer was carefully frozen in portions for two. Each time she cooked (which, mercifully, was rarely) she would take, say, the two chicken breasts out of the freezer, and prise them apart, and use only one to cook a meal for two, and be surprised that there wasn't enough food. Can you imagine the sheer force that it must take to separate two frozen chicken breasts? Would you not, at any point in that process, think about throwing caution to the wind and using both? Maybe?

But then, if you dropped a heated iron on a cream lounge carpet, I assume you'd rush to pick it up, rather than using the immortal line, "gosh! That was close! That almost landed on my foot!"

Her finest hour was when she took something of a fancy to my boyfriend of the time. She'd flirted a little for a while, then one day decided to make her move.

As I've said, the kitchen opened off the lounge. Next to the kitchen door was our dining table. Immediately inside the kitchen (i.e. the other side of a flimsy internal wall from said dining table) was the fridge. We'd just finished our dinner one evening, and I was in the kitchen at the fridge, roughly, to paint a full picture, three feet from where she sat. It was from this position, that I heard her say to Boyf, "if things don't work out between you two, you can always give me a call." I stood, agog, at the kitchen door, looking directly at Boyf, who gawped back at me, opening and closing his mouth a few times, before saying, "actually, I think I'm alright, thanks." She knew I was in the next room and was entirely unrepentant. It didn't seem to cross her mind that she'd done anything wrong.

Still, not to be outdone, she started making dirty 'phone calls to his mobile in the middle of the night. We didn't realise it was her at first. It came up as "number withheld" on his phone, so it could have been anyone. It took some detective work to get to the bottom of the mystery.

The thing with making nuisance phone calls, is that it pays not to make them from the phone which you share with the person you are pestering, especially if you've already insisted on itemised bills. And the thing with being clinically stupid is that you should know your limits.

All told, I'm a little anxious about the prospect of sharing my home with someone again. I'm worried that it will be an invasion of my privacy. I worry that she will be a cookoo in my nest. I worry that Swiss Chick will flick cigarette ask into my wine glasses, blow up my kitchen, and set fire to my carpet.

On the positive side, at least there's no boyfriend for her to steal this time. And for that, I am thankingful, very much.


*Secretly I think this is a splendid idea, and am now collecting made up words. Please supply suggestions, along with a definition, and a sentence using the word in context. Thank you!

This weekend (4) ...

... has been a bunch of poo.

But you don't want to hear about that. And I've been getting into a bit of a "this weekend" kind of a grove on a Sunday evening, so I think we should continue, setting aside the poo, and instead picking out some poo-less highlights.

And so we begin ...

1) I met up with some old colleagues after work on Thursday. They are from two jobs ago, but walking into the bar to meet them, it felt like no time had passed. We fell straight back into the old patter immediately. "I am a very important person." "Well ... fairly important".

2) Fridays are normally Tooting based, or for escaping the city entirely. But this weekend, I headed into the West End as a lady-wot-lunches. It's a rare treat to be a tourist in my own city, and to amble without purpose or timetable.

3) Lunch with my friend Abi was, as predicted, highly entertaining. She has been internet dating on E-Harmony (as seen on TV) but complained that no man they matched her with was attractive. "Abs, isn't that the site where they match you on a deeper level?" "Yeah, but bugger that!"

4) I stopped my drifting mid-afternoon to sit down for a cuppa. Casting my eye around the other customers in the coffee shop, I spotted a "lady" who must surely be a man. It's the wig that first gave it away (it was a tad skew-wiff), but the square jaw and lack of waist completes the look. But I realised, when looking at him (her?) I was really thinking, "I'd kill for legs like that."

5) The late morning train to Dorking involved changing twice, which was far less trouble than I feared. As I got off the train at Deepdene station my friend, who had travelled from Brighton, got off the same train and we discovered that we'd inadvertently done the last leg of the trip together.

6) We wandered into a dress shop, selling beautiful things that neither of us could afford. Part of the window display was a lovely carved hand mirror which I pointed out to my friend. The shop assistant says, "that's not our display. That's for sale." It's now hanging in my bathroom.

7) The sunny morning woke me up bright and early, and I was uncharacteristically keen to hop out of bed. After a spot of breakfast and a few chapters of a pleasingly trashy novel, I set to, blitzing the house, hoovering into all the corners, scrubbing the floors, wiping down every surface, and the house feels so much bigger for it.

8) A late Sunday lunch in the pub with friends. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, red cabbage, carrots and ... the mystery vegetable (turnip, we thought. Or maybe celeriac. Or mashed parsnip. Or a combo of all three). A board on a shelf had a strange message on it, which no-one could understand. None of the staff even knew who Dave Legge was. But we all agreed that he's probably a bit big for his boots.

9) A pot of flowers was on the reduced counter in the supermarket, but I couldn't see why. A red primrose, some bright yellow narcissus, and a hyacinth waiting to burst, are now sitting on my kitchen windowsill bringing a bit of the springtime inside. I've already had my 99p worth!

10) I've promised banana cake to a colleague, who doesn't believe that it's the best cake in the world ever, ever, ever (the Nigella recipe from Domestic Goddess. I think it might be the ample measure of rum that does it ...). The house is full of a deliciously fuggy loveliness which is making me wish I hadn't promised it at all, but could keep it all to myself.

And ... relax

Eugh! Enough of the emotions, already!
Now I've got all THAT off my chest, let's move on.

So, today was my last day at work! I've gone. Vamooshed. Escaped. Left the building.

It was a bit of a non-event really. Got to the end of the day, turned off my computer, and left. My leaving drinks are tomorrow night, so I've to go back to be plied with booze. Hell! I fear that's when I might get tearful. Especially after the fifth G&T. I worry I might come over either a bit "you know I love you", or, worse, "I'll tell you what I think ..." Someone please keep an eye on me!

And then I have a glorious week off before I start at the new place. Seven glorious days to myself. No calls on my time. Nowhere I have to be. Nothing I have to do.

So what shall I do?

Let's start with the dull and tedious. A few weeks back, I stripped all the wallpaper off my dining room walls and realised that to make it look nice was going to take a lot (A. LOT) of work. A clear week of graft would get it licked. I'd be done and be able to have it all straight for Christmas, which would be lovely. It's not interesting, but the idea of having that room sorted this time next week is heaven.

Or, I could enjoy being a tourist in my own city for a while. I've lived in London for ten years, and seen only about this much (*holds hands very close together*) of it. I could go to galleries and museums. I could walk to the top of things, and along the side of things, and around things that I've never yet seen. How much of London could I see in a whole week? Americans do the whole of Europe in ten days, so surely I could cover most of it!

I could go away. I could get online and book myself a few days somewhere. Paris, Barcelona, Rome, Blackpool. A nice little last minute mini-break would be good. And, after all, what's the point in being young, free and single, if I'm actually middle aged, bound to the house, and living on takeaway pizza? I could TOTALLY order takeaway pizza in Paris!

What do you think, folks? I'm throwing it open to the group. A clear week of zero obligation. What would you do?

A 3BT ... Sent With Love

The rather wonderful 3BT has getting married today. Isn't that lovely?

She shares wee snippets of her life with me daily (it's one of the blogs that I most look forward to reading) and yet I don't really know much about her. I wonder if she's in a slinky, saucy number, which shows off her curves, or a big net petticoated frock. I wonder whether she arrived at the ceremony in a cab, a car or a carriage. I wonder whether her cake was fruit, chocolate, or cheese.

Any which way, I hope she's had a fabulously wonderful day. To raise a glass to her (champagne, of course darling) and to unashamedly steal an idea from the pages of Mr London Street, I give you my 3BT for the day.

1) I hop out of bed bright and early, with good intentions, but instead get distracted by a jug of coffee and a good book. At noon I look at the clock and realise that I've wasted my morning. Then realise that it hasn't been a waste at all, but a fabulous luxury.

2) Having given up finding the perfect colour for my dining room walls, I realise that it's a mix of two that I've already tried, and rejected. I spend the morning mixing and trialing and mixing and trialing until I hit on the right combo. I'm now inspired enough to not find the prospect of sanding the patchy walls a burden.

3) I hit the West End to go to the hen party of my oldest friend in the world. The very wonderful Angela gets married in three weeks, and has the dress, the flowers, the hymns and the cake sorted. How lovely to see a very old and much loved friend so excited about tying a very perfect knot.

Congratulations Clare! Hope you've had a most fabulously wonderful day!

xxx

Today, in my garden ...

Two men hacked ...

... and they sawed ...

... and they dug ...

... and they cleared ...

... twenty tonnes of ivy off my back wall!

Now what shall I grow on my lovely new back wall?

It's Been A Long Time Baby

Goodness, but it's been AGES since I've been here for a catch up with you kids! Do I have a good excuse? No, not really. I've been socialising with actual people, and it's been lovely, but it does mean that I've rather neglected you, which is bad. I'm sorry. Rest assured, I do still love you.

So, this weekend, I've had a visit from the Very Fabulous Kelly (who might yet marry me) and her current husband, the Very Lovely Nathan. It's been great! We've had a fab and groovy time, with, I think it's fair to say, something for everyone. There has been gin and dinner and wine and accordions and a lot of weather and artiness and delicatessens and cakes and tea and crosswords and silliness and a lot of mulled wine and non-mulled wine and orange playing cards and Queen and cooked breakfasts and shop wandering and tapas and prize winning puddings and more artiness and ... and ... and ... I think that's about it. But that's enough, don't you think?

There have been four main themes to the weekend:

1) Food. Food eaten at home, food eaten in restaurants, food bought in shops and brought home to chomp on, food cooked from raw ingredients. Food eaten off plates, food eaten with fingers, food in pieces so big that they have to be prised in. Food, food, food, food, food. And, to cap it all, just after they left, I found a sneaky little bag of Percy Pigs hidden for me to enjoy later. Nom nom!

2) Impressions of (a) Stacey on X-Factor, (b) the owner of a very English retailer who telephoned my office this week, and who was not the calm, beautifully spoken, eloquent woman I wanted her to be, but a slightly mental, jittery, batty woman. Over the course of 24 hours, both impressions started to converge. One impression now fits all. It's crazy*! (*spoken in a slightly vacant, but excited voice).

3) Lead In My Pencil by Paolo Nutini. (Kelly, this clip will help us fit the words to the choon!) Altogether now, "rat-tat-tattle-ta-da-da-da-daaaa ... nothing's gonna bring me down!" I challenge you to listen to this and NOT have a little boogy!

4) The punchline "I used to have a boyfriend like that." "It was all a bit disappointing." "I used to have a boyfriend like that." "It's all about the sausage for me." "I used to have a boyfriend like that." "He'll only come up to your elbow." "I used to have a boyfriend like that." "It's all sticky in the bottom." "I used to have a boyfriend like that."

It's been great - I've had such a good weekend! I've always found it hard to have people to stay before, living in small flats with no room to manoeuvre, but this house have given me the gift of hospitality, and I love it. It's so nice to fill the house up with friends and family and be able to enjoy sparking company.

I love being able to potter around doing nice local things with people. Even more mundane jobs, like running for milk and cooking breakfast are more fun when there's people in to chat with, and to give me an excuse to get the nice china out, and put the milk in a jug.

The house seems hellish quiet now. There's six whole rooms and I'm sitting right in the corner of the front one. There's too much space by half, and I feel a bit small and lost. And what's more, for the first time all day, there's no-one singing, "nothing's gonna bring me down"...

Have you got the time?

time /taIm/ noun - the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present and future, regarded as a whole.

When I was a student, we went on a field trip. Imagine it. Thirty or so like-minded, bright, optimistic young things being shuttled away on a day trip. When you're studying property at Reading University, trust me, a day out is a fine and glorious thing. I imagine that we all hopped out of bed that morning with the giddy excitement of a child on Christmas morning, put on the uniform appropriate to our social set (jeans, trainers, and a holey jumper for some, chinos, deck shoes, and Ralph Loren with the collar flipped up for others) and skipped onto campus to pile onto a coach and hit the M4. In my mind, the sun was shining and there was Cliff Richard style singing in the aisle.

Oh yes. You can't beat it. The open road. The route set for an educational, but light hearted day out to see a case study in the flesh. That's right folks. We were going to a new housing estate in Essex.

Oh dear.

I don't recall much about the housing estate in question. I don't even remember what it was called now, or why it was a relevant that we were shipped there to loaf around carry out important research all day. I don't believe that, as housing estates go, it was in any way exceptional (which makes a girl wonder why we were driven through four counties to this particular specimen).

What I do remember is that, in the middle of said estate, there was a green, and around the edge of the green there were nine huge boulders. Each one had a smooth side, and in large, foot high letters, a word was etched into the face. Standing in the middle of the green, and reading around, they said "take time while time is, for time will away".

Something about the phrase resonated with me. I googled (is "google" a verb?) it today. It's an old Russian proverb. Quite a nice sentiment, don't you think?

And never has it been more pertinent than recently. Time is in short supply!

My office days are flat out at the moment. I don't know if you've heard, but there's this recession thing going around, and it makes my work doubly hard and half as financially rewarding. I'm not complaining. I've got a job, which is more than a lot of people can say, so please consider me grateful to be over worked and under paid (well, perhaps not grateful exactly, but you know what I mean). But it doesn't half take a lot of time.

And there's this new house. It's great! My own little set of walls, and I love them! But MY WORD! they take a lot of loving! As we all know, just the cleaning, cooking, washing, ironing is enough to keep a girl busy, without the sanding, wallpaper stripping, hole filling, hole drilling stuff too. Time, time, time!

Then there is Loulou Workshop. It's my passion. I would give my arm to spend more time on it, but the time it takes is already significant. I always have a hundred more ideas for pieces, than I have time to make and I really want to have the time to be a bit more creative. I'm bursting with inspiration at the the moment, but you know what inspiration takes? That's right. Time.

And now there is a new project. With a group of friends from the Open House event, we are planning a BIG local contemporary art project. I think that I'm too much of a craftsman, and not enough of an artist to be an exhibitor, but there's talk of management committees and workshops and educational projects. It'll be a long term commitment. Yesterday, at the latest meeting about it all, I heard myself saying "I'm happy to dedicate time to this," and wondered as I said it where I thought this time would come from.

This weekend was the first one in four months in which I had nothing in my diary. I didn't have to be anywhere with anyone doing anything, with the exception of the quick art project meeting yesterday. Three days to myself. Heaven!

So, I went to the supermarket, viewed a shop for the art project, had friends for lunch, viewed another shop, had an impromptu brainstorm about the project, went into the West End for a leaving do, had the planned art project meeting, went back to the supermarket for all the things I'd forgotten, bought and hung curtains in the spare room, baked cakes, went to a friend's house on a tea-and-sympathy basis, dropped some books to another friend, went on a fruitless boot shopping mission (more about this another time I think), cleaned the house, did three loads of laundry and spoke to my mother.

Isn't it nice to have a bit of spare time?

I would like to thank ...

This evening, when I left the office, I went for a post-work-drink. It was great, but those two glasses of wine have made more of an impact that I might have hoped, so tonight just a quick note of appreciation...

Thank you to those people who obligingly put their lights on and leave their curtains open. Thank you for giving me a glimpse into your living room, and style ideas for my own. Thank you for piling books in precarious piles and for ironing left on tables - they make me feel better about my own housekeeping (and lack thereof). And thank you for the snapshot of your life, be it dinner for many or TV for one.

But mostly, thank you standing in the window and flexing your muscles, whilst wearing only your pants, just as my train goes past your house. Thanks for that. Same time tomorrow?