Getting ready

My birthday was on a Monday this year, so we celebrated it two days early by going out on Saturday night. Always conscious of time and the burning need to do 'stuff', I've given a lot of thought to what I want to do before I'm 30. I wanted to map this out so I'd have something to reference for the next 12 months. So, on Thursday morning I went to Woolworth's and bought myself some felt tip pens.

I started drawing. There are 10 things on the map for the year ahead:

1) Run a half-marathon (well, I managed the 10K after only 8 weeks so why not keep going?)
2) Finish the book (if only to stop being harassed by people asking 'when'?)
3) Go to a full-on music festival (no camping though)
4) Buy a red sports car (oh. yes.)
5) Go to Africa (even just Morocco. I'd happily wait longer for the five-star safari)
6) Learn to take proper photographs (Love taking snaps, but they'd be better if I were better)
7) Learn to ski properly (thrill seeker seeks part in Bond movie)
8) Learn to horse ride (someone at work went on a riding holiday through the desert to Petra. I said that would be ace and maybe I'd do it next year. She asked: "do you ride?" I said: "Not horses, no." She said: "That might be a problem." I said: "Well, I can learn.")
9) Master sign language (This is a random one. I don't know any deaf people and no one seems to 'interpret for the deaf' on Scotland Today anymore (I'd love that gig), but I figure it might be handy for venting frustration with people but in a such a way that I can keep my job; or if I'm kidnapped and need to send secret messages as to my whereabouts ... you know, if they film me ... OK, it's just random.)
10) Have visited 30 countries (Currently on 25 so would love to tick off another 5 this year).

I also drew out a 'life so far' map of all the significant things I'd done. It made me feel great because there's absolutely loads on it. And, aside from passing my driving test, living abroad for a year, graduating from uni and getting married, I've done it all in the last three years alone. It reaffirmed to me what I can achieve when I stay open to opportunities, jump at everything and put my mind to it. Good work!

On Saturday morning, I ordered some hi-viz running togs in preparation for starting up again next week. I can't wait. Then I took myself of to the hairdressers to get my highlights done (and to ask for big 60s hair for my night out). I always feel great after Emma sorts out my hair, so on my way there I decided that when I was finished I'd take myself up to Harvey Nick's to get my nails done. Well, it was my birthday.

I arrived at the Champagne Nail Bar with my ab-fab new hair and asked if they had any space for a file and polish. Amazingly they did. "What colour would you like?" the manicurist asked. "Oooh ... em... something red." "What kind of red, we have about 8 shades?" I had a look at the colours on offer at the bar. The best red was the Victoriana, but I also took a fancy to the Black Taxi (black nails are very on trend). I couldn't choose between them so the manicurist made some other suggestions. I ended up selecting an amazing dark grey colour.

Manicurist: "Any special occasion?"
Me: "Well, it's my birthday on Monday so we're going out tonight."
Manicurist: "Wow. It's my birthday on Monday too. We're like birthday twins."
Me: "uh-huh."
Manicurist: "I'm going to be 18."
Me: "Ah, that's nice. I'm not. I'm really not."

They gave me a glass of champagne while my nails were drying and I enjoyed it. Then I walked home and started getting ready. After over a week, I was finally allowed to wear eye make-up again - so I went to town with it.

Sinead, Jo and Kerry arrived and I made us all Dirty Mojitos. Kerry asked: "What's 'dirty' about them?" I said: "They've got Chlamydia." But they were dirty cause I'd made the sugar syrup with brown sugar. They checked out my life maps and said I should get them framed(I can't draw for toffee, but apparently my efforts have such "vibrancy" and "humour" as to make them endearing.) We met Mog at the restaurant and she'd handily ordered some sangria. We scoffed the delicious tapas and quaffed a few bottles of Campo Viejo Crianza. It was joyous.

I'm 29 and , surprise, surprise, it feels right.

Staying warm this winter

It's very cold in the flat tonight but I'm refusing to put on the fire or the radiators because it's still only September. Also, if I get into the habit of putting that fire on now, it'll be on all the time and, given the impending financial apocalypse, I really don't need my gas meter to start ringing up numbers with the speed and ferocity of an ambitious tele-sales executive.

Speaking of financial doom, I went out for cocktails on Friday night at The Scotsman and on Saturday night at Harvey Nick's. Lots of people were doing the same; you wouldn't think there was a credit crunch. It reminded me vaguely of those paintings depicting the Gilded Age of American excess just before the Great Depression kicked in. Uh-oh.

I have a date this week with someone I actually feel quite excited about. (I'm not looking for a relationship but since I'm not putting the fire on, I could really do with something to keep me warm.) I know, who'd have thought it? The last time I felt like this about someone I was 14, so it's a lot of fun. Even if it comes to nothing, it's good to know that I can still get excited. I was beginning to wonder. (p.s. 'Dave' and I have gone back to being 'just friends'. He accepted it with good grace and humour and said: "Yeah, you're much cooler when you're not going out with you." 'Dave', on the other hand, was exactly as cool as when he wasn't going out with me. I feel he has a lot to learn about women and I need to be more honest with myself.)

A colleague from work was telling me about a guy she's just started dating. He sounds hot and she's pretty excited. All excellent news. However, she was telling me about a dinner he'd cooked the night before. He made lobster. She was suspicious that he hadn't made it himself as cooking is 'neither a great interest nor skill' for him. "What does it matter whether he caught the lobster with his teeth or whether he scooped it out of a can, it's the thought that counts." "Oh I know, and it was really good. I just wish he'd be upfront if he didn't make it himself."

"Did you have a good night though?"
"Yeah, it was great. A really nice evening."
"Excellent."
"Except..."
"What?"
"Well, it was getting quite late so Steve offered to give me a lift home. And I said: 'Well, maybe I'll just stay'. He looked a bit startled and said: 'Erm... the thing is ... my mum's here'. I said: 'What? You're kidding!' I mean, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of his mum all night. 'Where is she?' 'Erm ... she's through in one of the bedrooms. She's visiting this weekend, but she didn't want to get in the way.' 'Right, well I'm not staying if your mum's here.' 'Yeah, I'll give you a lift.' So he gave me a lift home. I still don't think he cooked that lobster himself though. I wish he'd just say."
"Oh my God. Who cares about the fucking lobster? You're dating Norman Bates."

In other news:
1)I've got my race number and champion chip through for Sunday's big race. Very excited and nervous.
2)I received a text from Careth to say she and Mark are "expecting a 'bundle of joy' in March '09". Jen said she felt the '09 part was unnecessary unless Careth has turned into an elephant since we saw her last. I clearly missed the point as I thought their insurance policy was paying out.
3)Leanne is due to deliver baby number two any day now.
4)Sinead is loved-up and she and Saul are acting like Jonathan and Jennifer Hart. I don't just mean they're being all romantic and cosy, they're actually undertaking investigative assignments in and around Kirkcaldy.
5)My ex is getting married, again, (the fool) and wants to chat through some 'unresolved stuff' from our spectacularly short-lived attempt. I'm not doing it."

I'll let you know how I get on in the big race.

I carried a watermelon

I am on holiday this week and enjoying it.

I was badly in need of it. The late nights and stupidly early rises had taken their toll. I never realise how stressed and run down I am until my body does something to spell it out for me. Sometimes it makes me vomit, sometimes it throws my cycle off kilter (sometimes it does both those things at the same time, which is really scary and even more stressful), sometimes it gives me an eczema-type thing on my knuckles, but this time it gave me red blotches up my neck and behind my ears. Strange but true.

At work I was furiously trying to get everything tied up before I went off on holiday. This included contract/cost negotiations with one agency and two agencies who moan about the slightest change of plan. Honestly. When I invite agencies to pitch for me in future, one of the things I'm going to be looking for is someone who is as cool under pressure as I am. Yes, I may be a blotchy-necked stress-head, but no one would know it from speaking to me.

The social side of things was frantic too, though considerably more enjoyable. Mog and I had dinner and cocktails at the Dome last Wednesday and I tried to convince her to start wearing an orthopaedic shoe. I toyed with the idea of leaving my car on George Street and having a few more, but I'd have had to get up ridiculously early to move it so I was sensible and resisted.

On Thursday night, I met up with Cat, Cabey and Alan from work for the pub quiz. When I arrived, Cat pointed out that the rest of the people looked quite geeky and clever and the only hope for us was that I flashed them. I told her that she was sorely underestimating my pub quiz skills. Alas, I never got a chance to wow them as the quiz never happened. We made up for it by making our way through some chili nachos and a significant amount of alcohol. We tried to come up with a team name for future, but struggled. Cat suggested we choose one word which is always in our team name and then the rest of it changes every week. Alan suggested we use the word 'bint'. So I suggested we replace a word from a famous movie title with the word 'bint' every week. We tested it out on some James Bond films to see how it would work (Dr Bint, Bintfinger, On Her Bint's Secret Service, The Bint with the Golden Gun (or The Man with the Golden Bint), The Bint who Loved Me and Bintpussy).

Friday night was Anne and David's leaving night. I managed to get there before eight o'clock. I spent most of the night talking to Angela and Susie whilst fondling the lining of a guy called Harvard's jacket, which was hanging on the back of the sofa we were sitting on. Sometime after midnight on Easter Road I was amazed that, as merry as she was, Anne was still able to dismiss a guy with a very cool one-liner. Impressive. I told her this and she said 'yeah. I like how your way of handling it was just to edge yourself away from the situation and leave me to deal with it.'

It's true, I am rubbish in these situations. I normally get stuck for ages trying to politely tell someone to get lost. Drunk people scare me though and being smart in these situations reminds me of growing up in Fife and saying the wrong thing to a girl who accused me of flirting with her boyfriend at Jackie-O's. I pointed out to her that her boyfriend didn't have any teeth so he wasn't really what I considered to be 'a catch' and surely she must be mistaken. She told me that she was going to 'rip the fiss aff' me, which translates as 'rip your face off'. I spent the rest of the night in fear for both myself and my Jaegar mini-dress.

Since then I've come to rely on my friends to help me out of awkward situations. Sinead is classic with her no-nonsense approach. In San Francisco I got stopped by two guys asking where I was from and what I was up to and whether I'd like to go for a drink. Sinead had kept walking, turned around, shook her head, walked back to us and said: "Lis, do you have any intention of having sex with these guys?" The three of us were totally shocked. "No, of course not ..." "Well come on then."

On Saturday I woke up when I heard someone leaving a message on my answer machine. I looked up at the clock. 2:22pm. I don't think I've ever slept in that late in my life. I was thoroughly disgusted with myself and slightly anxious that I might be ill. Anyway, it made for a very weird day. By the time I'd showered and got dressed and had breakfast, it was about four o'clock. I had just enough time to run down to the framers to collect my pictures. I hurried round Sainsbury's and bumped into a guy from work.

I hate bumping into people from work in the supermarket. It's always awkward and it's always when you're buying tampons. (And now that I know I buy more than the average woman, it makes me feel even more weird. When Sinead and I did a communal toiletries shop for our RTW trip, Sinead asked if I was planning on having a hemorrhage.) So anyway, he said: "Hi Lisa." And I said "Hi" back. That's all you really need to say isn't it? But because he probably felt awkward, he clearly felt he had to say something else. So he said: "Doing your weekly shop?" What, in the supermarket? I mean, what are you supposed to say to that?

Well, you could help him out - even if it means lying - by saying "yes". At which point he would probably look at my basket (if he hadn't already) and see that it contained only tampons. Then he would probably say "bye" and I'd say "bye". So our full interaction would have consisted of:

Him: Hi Lisa
Me: Hi
Him: Doing your weekly shop?
Me: Yes.
Him: (On scan of basket he sees tampons) Bye
Me: Bye

How pointless and shit is that? Why didn't he just leave it at "Hi"?

Now in these situations, my head is always running a bit further ahead and I'd have known that the 'yes' answer would lead to a pointless and shit conversation and he'd get out to the car park and start banging his head off the steering wheel repeating "Doing your weekly shop?" like it was the 'watermelon' line from Dirty Dancing. So I wanted it to be less awkward somehow.

The thing is, when I feel awkward I respond by talking far too much and telling people way more than they want or need to know. For example, when I was last at the doctors having a smear test, the doctor said "you have excellent muscle control", which freaked me right out. I mean, like it's not embarrassing enough for the patient, they now feel they have to add commentary. I manically said it was probably on account of my pilates classes and proceeded to tell her absolutely everything there is to know about pilates. I must have gone on about it for almost 20 minutes.

Meanwhile back at the supermarket check-out, instead of saying 'yes', I decided to launch into a big explanation that went a bit like this: "No. No, I just popped in to get a few bits and pieces. Well, you know, like tampons (now throwing them over my shoulder onto the conveyor belt). I get my shopping delivered cause, you know, it's better for the environment and I'm quite busy, and the delivery guy is a hottie. I mean he's really young, but he's quite hot. But he's not that young because he drives the van so he has to be at least 17. Ha ha ha."

So then I went out to the car park and banged my head off the steering wheel.

Sydneysiders

My sunburn didn't give me too much grief on the flight to Sydney, thankfully. We landed at the airport - minus any sniffer dogs or customs incidents - and got picked up by the lovely people at Base Sydney.

Again, Base does very well with its accommodation - we even have an LCD TV this time. We were both feeling a bit tired and really hungry. Shin consulted the Lonely Planet for its recommendations in the vicinity. "Liverpool Street has a plethora of Spanish restaurants, Lis." "I'm always happy to eat tapas stuff and Liverpool Street is pretty close," I said studying the freebie map I'd picked up at reception. "Let's do Captain Torres Lis!" "Gladly".

We set off at pace to find the legend that was Captain Torres. We walked one block and discovered Kent Street had now met Liverpool St."OK Lis, he's number 73. Let's go." "Shin, Shin, he's there. Right across the road!" "Ha ha ha. This is perfect. This is a sign. We're going to love Sydney."

Captain Torres was small and busy Spanish bar/restaurant with a cavern style and rustic feel to it. We took our seats and smiled heartily over the menus. We got an excellent bottle of Rioja which turned out to be the second best bottle I've had on the trip. The best was the Frog's Leap Zinfandel from our first night in Vegas. I'm so tracking these babies down when I get back home. We ordered a good amount, polished it all off, and smiled all the way back to Base.

On Tuesday the weather was fantastic and we set off on our sightseeing walk. Through Darling Harbour, down to Sydney Harbour Bridge - which is massive, around the Rocks area which is really picturesque and has lots of lovely outdoor bars and restaurants. We continued on past the Ferry terminals and round to the Opera House. It's so cool seeing something that you've seen so often on TV and in magazines.

After that we walked round through the Botanic Gardens and past the big outdoor cinema. There were hundreds of people out running and exercising. They had little running groups with coaches and stuff. It was totally full on and was making us feel slightly guilty so we agreed that we were probably power walking and burning off lots of calories. I saw a billboard that said: 'You need to run 4K to burn off two chocolate biscuits'. It made me think about all the Tim Tams I scoffed in the Cook Islands ... and New Zealand. But it was lunchtime and we were heading to Fratelli Paradiso so I could unleash my inner squid monster.

We walked through Wooloomooloo and kept repeating it to each other in our 'Australian accents'. I popped into Wooloomooloo pharmacy to get some more solarcaine and then we headed onto Kings Cross - or the 'Prozzie zone' as Shin liked to refer to it.

At Fratelli Paradiso, we took our seats and tried to freshen up. I had the squid and Sinead had the risotto. I also broke with my own personal protocol and ordered a dry riesling (all that wine tasting in NZ convinced me that white wine is OK after all). The food was delicious and we felt recharged and ready to hit the shops.

We did hit the shops - about an hour later - but they were rubbish. We decided the shops only cater for Nicole Kidman types (6ft tall, 6 inches wide and earning more than 6 figures) or 14 year old Asian girls who want to dress head-to-toe in Hello Kitty stuff. The best we could get was the surfer dude shops like Roxy, Quicksilver and Billabong. But that was it. Thoroughly knackered after our 20 mile hike we went home, had showers and went back to Liverpool Street for more Tapas and wine.

On Wednesday we went down to the Rocks because a woman had told Sinead there was a Gap in the DFS Galleria. We got there to discover it was nonsense and the DFS Galleria offered only Louis Vuitton, Bally, Armani and Ralph Lauren. We walked across the road to the pier to catch the ferry over to Manly. It was a really nice trip and we got great shots of the Opera House.
Manly was lovely and we bought some more stuff from Roxy and headed down to the beach. I was keeping the thighs under wraps given their recently acquired 3rd degree burns, and Shin was trying to remedy the farmer's tanline around her neck from the previous day.

Sinead's cousin Derek was picking us up at 5.30 so, after an entire day spent lying in the sun and dousing ourselves in factor 30, we tried our best to freshen up. We felt thoroughly mingin' and laughed about how awful we looked. I had sand all over my neck and in my hair - stuck to the suntan cream that was in there too.

Anyway, Derek picked us up, gave us a little tour of Manly and took us home to meet his lovely wife Ails and their two adorably gorgeous boys. We had champers and guava juice - which is delicious - some nibbles, and hot showers - woo hoo!

Derek and Ails took us out for dinner and for drinks at the Wharf Bar. It was all great. Shin and I waved goodbye and took the ferry back to Sydney. It was almost empty this time so we stood up the front and marveled at the illuminated city.

Thursday was another hot one and we were going out to Bondi beach to meet up with Lisa T, who was starting her 3 week holiday here. We took the train from Town Hall to Bondi Junction and checked out the shops at Westfield plaza. Again, there were lots of designer shops but not much like H&M. I told Shin I was off to look in the chemist at their sunburn remedies. "OK, I'll go and look at the pies," she said. The chemist didn't have anything I didn't already have, but I was pleased to be able to go and look at the pies too. There was a huge selection at this place called 'Pie Face' and they all had little smiley faces on them. Cute.

We looked around at a few more shops and tried on ridiculous head gear in Meyer department store. I tried on an enormous hat. - "You look like you're in Dallas Lis. - and Sinead tried on a comedy turban with some jewels on it. We amused ourselves like this for about 45 minutes and then decided to go have some lunch.

After that we got the bus out to Bondi beach, walked on the sand, people watched, had ice creams and sat in the sun with a few beers. Lisa T showed up around five, having just flown into Sydney from the UK that morning! She said she felt out of it and showed us her swollen ankles, but after a couple of beers and some dinner, she said she felt better. We checked out the hombres and agreed that the specimens were of good quality.

Around seven o'clock a huge thunderstorm arrived and dropped big fat dollops of rain on us. We jumped in a taxi back to Bondi Junction where Lisa went up to her apartment to get some much needed sleep and Shin and I caught the train back to Base.

I had to buy an emergency bag to fit all my extra stuff in, but got a good deal from Magda the Polish woman in the bag shop. "Ah, Lisa, you are from Scotland. I am from Poland. We are neighbours." I would never have described Scotland and Poland as neighbours before, but given how far away Australia is and the fact that I have to sit on my ass for 24 hours!!!! in order to get home, I said: "Of course we are."

So, just that big flight home now.

Great Barrier Grief

Another glorious day in Cairns and we set off on our Great Barrier Reef Cruise. The boat was reputedly the fastest to the reef, which I was pleased about given my terrible habit of throwing up when I'm on one. Another bonus was the fact that it catered for snorkeling and scuba diving which meant Shin and I didn't have to book separate cruises to get what we wanted.

I sensibly took some of the anti-sea sickness tablets that were on offer and they seemed to serve me well. We got out to the reef and Sinead suited up in her anti-jellyfish outfit and headed out for a spot of snorkeling. I got tanked up for some scuba and set off. The Scuba guy had been running through a list of things we might see in the water - "turtles, clown fish, wasse and lots of Japanese" - surprise, surprise.

Annoyingly, the Scuba guys insisted on linking arms with everyone in the group. There were only five of us, but it still freaked me out. The old Japanese guy on my right kept doing breast-stroke arms and was getting dangerously close to my regulator. Then he'd let go of my arm to take some pictures and flap about frantically trying to get hold of my again. I was deliberately making my arm as inaccessible as possible and it turned into some kind of underwater Benny Hill sketch as he tried to catch up to me and link arms again.

Back on the boat we had a barbecue lunch and set off for our second reef spot. I decided to do a second dive for the bargain basement price of 17 quid. Knowing that I always feel less sick on deck than I do inside, I headed up to the sunbathers' area and set out my towel next to some girls wearing the tiniest thongs I've ever seen. They were all really brown and oiling themselves up. Still, with all my scuba and diving off the back of the boat I felt like Princess Di so I didn't mind lying next to the professional tan team too much.

Sinead joined me for a bit and said: "This is the life Lis. I feel like we're celebrities." "I know. I was just thinking I feel like Princess Di." "Ha ha. I feel like the paps should be taking pictures of me so readers back home can discuss my beach body."

My second dive was much better. The water was clearer, the colours more vibrant and I didn't have to hold anyone's arm. I saw some more clams but they weren't as big as the giant one in the Cook Islands, and I found Nemo. There were millions of them. I went up and did some snorkeling. Shin and I tried to take some pictures of each other under water, so we'll see how those turn out.

I headed back onto the boat so I could take up my position on the sun deck for the journey back home. The thong brigade hadn't moved - I think they must have been real celebrities. Anyway, it was roasting so I kept topping up my sun cream and I was glad when the boat started off for home and I got a bit of a cooling breeze. It was great. I was lying on a speedboat on the other side of the world, getting some sun, not feeling sick and being pleased with myself cause scuba counts as exercise. Total celebrity!

A Japanese woman wearing a leopard and zebra print kaftan (make your mind up hen) sat down beside me and started munching on a sandwich. It was really windy so every time she went to take a bit, some of it would fly out and hit me in the face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said picking her tuna off my face. At first I didn't say anything and her apology was enough, but it happened another 2 times so I lost it and felt compelled to say: "Will you please get your sandwich under control!" Gross.

She eventually went back inside and left me food free, which I was pleased about. As the boat came back into the harbour, I got my stuff together and noticed the tops of my thighs were looking suspiciously pink. "Arggh! This is not a good sign." Needless to say, I spent that night with my legs covered in Solarcaine and wet towels. To make matters worse, every second advert on TV was about skin cancer. "Quick. Turn it over Shin. I can't bear to watch." Admittedly, I was feeling distinctly less like a celebrity after that.

Smuggling and cuddling

We left a bright and sunny Auckland and touched down in a humid and wet Cairns. My tactic for getting my passport stamped on the page I wanted finally paid dividends and I felt really pleased with myself.

I felt even more pleased for myself when I was treated to the unexpected comedy of Sinead's bag being singled out by the Sniffer Dog. Shin doesn't like dogs ("I'm no animal lover Lis!" and her face was a picture when Sam the Sniffer Dog and his Nazi Handler decided they needed to check her bag. There was loud sighing, unmistakable body language and some 'what a complete waste of time. muppets!' head shaking. The Handler asked Shin if she'd been carrying any lavender seeds in her bag and I had to stifle my giggles. Sinead's eyebrows did a few Mexican waves before she (caustically) answered: "Lavender seeds? Eh, no - I don't think so." "What's this?" the Handler enquired. "That would be a chocolate bar. The sniffer dog found a chocolate bar Lis, fancy that!"

We got sent over to Customs for a bag search. I'd decided not to declare Snowball - the wooden turtle I purchased in Aitutaki for the purpose of adding to my menagerie of carved animals (I only have 3 - including Snowball - and I don't intend to get anymore lest I become one of those weird 'collector' people who have too many cats, plants, Royal Doulton dolls or heads in their freezer). Anyway, it's just a wooden turtle souvenir and I couldn't really be bothered with the hassle so I just ticked 'No' on the form.

The Customs Officer opened up my bag and pulled Snowball out. Sinead shook her head and distanced herself from me. Holding Snowball by his head right in front of my face, the Customs Officer said "You need to declare this." "Oh? Oh! Oh, I totally forgot about that." I started smiling enthusiastically and made my eyes go even bigger. "I'm really sorry. I totally forgot." I put my hands to my face in a fiddle-de-dee gesture. The Customs Officer fetches a Government leaflet and goes through it with me. "Right. I see. I can completely understand. Really? Of course. Absolutely. I'm terribly sorry. Have a nice day." "You too dear. Enjoy your holiday!" Sinead is still shaking her head. "You're a bloody nutcase, Lis. I saw you feigning great interest in her leaflet. Getting into Australia might be a bit more difficult for you next time. Ha ha ha."

We checked into the Bohemia Resort. Nice. Another decent shower and a hairdryer. Although the beds are on wheels and the room has a tiled floor so every time I sit down I roll about 3 feet. It's absolutely pouring outside so we're in no hurry to get changed and go out. I'm setting up my beauty counter in the bathroom when Shin calls me out frantically. I figured there was a spider or a crocodile in the room, but it turns out to be something even more unbelievable.

"It's Oprah, Lis. Bloody Oprah." I don't believe it. She's only been talking about Oprah since we left. We get settled down to watch. It gets better. That Gayle woman is on the show and I can totally see why the rumours exist. They're reclining on chairbeds in front of the studio audience and talking about their experience at the Spa. At the ad break we find out the show is called 'Oprah and Gayle's Spa Adventure', Sinead is laughing so hard those little tears are running down her cheeks again.

Oprah and Gayle are exercising to gay anthems with a group of 'lucky viewers' they are celebrating as 'America's Women Warriors of 2008'. "Oh my God Shin. This couldn't be more gay if the Village People were working out with them." Shin laughs, "They just about are. Look Oprah's all dressed up as an army chief and Gayle's got her sweat bands on." "This is hilarious. I can't believe this is on."

Just then we turned and looked at each other reclining on our own beds. I was lying in my pants and Shin was wrapped in a towel toga style - and we both had our specs on. We burst out laughing and through the giggling Shin managed to say: "Check us, Lis. We're more gay than them. Look at us! With our specs on like a couple of literary lesbos. Ha ha ha - this is too funny. I was laughing so hard I started to choke.

We went out in the pouring rain and booked onto a Great Barrier Reef snorkeling and scuba trip for Sunday then went back to the Resort to cook up dinner on one of the self service BBQs. Shin beat me at pool - twice. It turns out, I'm only good at it when my Dad points to exactly the part of the ball I should hit.

Whilst booking the Great Barrier Reef tour, I - magpie-like - caught sight of a leaflet showing someone cuddling a Koala. "I'm going to do that tomorrow," I told Shin. Sinead said she wouldn't be cuddling any disease-ridden Koalas but she'd come with me for the trip. At 0930 the next morning, we caught the Kuaranda Scenic Railway up to the Tablelands rainforest. It was a really enjoyable trip with some good stuff to see along the way. Our favourite spot of the day was a 70-year old woman who looked a lot like me. "Lis, that'll be you in 45 years! Quick stand close to her and I'll get a picture." I did and we laughed all the way to the Koala cuddling.

The Koala was so cute and the pics are great. I thought briefly about trying to smuggle it out of Australia but decided that it might be difficult to get a plentiful supply of Eucalyptus in the UK. I think I'll just look for one on EBAY instead.

Auckland taco trauma

We said farewell to cool Queenstown and flew into Auckland for a day and a half.

Sinead had booked us into Base which turned out to be ace backpacker accommodation - shiny clean, good linen, tv, hairdryer and our own private wet room. The only downside was that Sinead got to strecth out in the double bed and I was still stuck in a top bunk. Fairness was restored, however, when Shin kept banging her head off the metal frame above her bed.

We figured there's not much to see in Auckland, so we quickly decided to make this 'down-time'. We opened the balcony doors to let the air and sunshine in, then spent sometime lying on our beds in our pants watching TV. "You know what would really make this briliant Lis?" "No, what?" "If Oprah was on." Sinead started flicking through the TV channels.

Shin is obsessed with Oprah and has been talking about her ever since we arrived in Vegas. "Argh! All American TV shows is dramatic news or the bloody weather Lis. Where's Oprah?" We passed a newsagents and Shin spotted the National Enquirer announcing that Oprah and Steadman had split up. "Ha, ha. That's cause Oprah wants to go out with Gayle." I'm sorry to say I'm not up on my Oprah-knowledge so I had no idea who Gayle was. "Oh yeah, it's been a big rumour for years and Oprah even denounced it on her show." I suggested Sinead put a bet on Oprah and Gayle going public in 2008 when she gets back home, but she said she'd get poor odds it's so obvious.

When we were on our trashy celebrity tour in Hollywood and the driver pointed out Dr Phil's house. Sinead announced loudly "I think he's having an affair with Oprah." I told her to keep her voice down as saying anything against Oprah is considered blasphemy in the US. Anyway, there was no Oprah in Auckland and we were getting hungry so we got ready and went out.

Kiwis love their pies, and they have some strange combinations like steak and cheese, and mince and cheese. Back in New Plymouth with Jenny and Ben, we'd voiced our reluctance at sampling such a 'delicacy', but by now we felt we had to see what all the fuss was about. We agreed that we would head off in search of a quality pie. I consulted the Lonely Planet and found out Ponsonby Pies on Ponsonby Road was supposed to be good.

Auckland isn't all that compact and we discovered that Ponsoby is actually a separate area some distance from the City Centre. Then we discovered that Ponsonby Road is one of the longest roads ever. We walked up and down it twice before Shin popped her head into Sugar Brown's Bakery to ask where the Pie shop was. The girl said she'd been there before but couldn't exactly remember where it was. She told us it was on the opposite side of the road and back in the direction we'd come from. We still couldn't find it. "I should just write things down" I said. Sinead didn't answer. A short while later, she announced she was getting delirious and had to have something to eat NOW! So we stopped at this place called The Chapel. The waitress told us that the Fish of the Day was a 'Bluenose' and Shin looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said: "Well, we'll no be having that in the chapel." Ha ha ha ha.

Our sugar levels restored on some tapas items, we headed back into the city centre and down to the waterfront. We got ice creams and sat on a bench watching the commuter ferries departing.
We started the next day with tea and toast at Base. We discussed Margaret Thatcher and whether or not she'd get a state funeral. "Oh she bloody will as well," said Shin, "but I bet there'll be loads of protests. It'll be great." "Do you remember when she got totally quizzed by an audience member about the sinking of the Belgrano?" "Yeah, she was struggling to comprehend the fact that someone was challenging 'the Prime Minister." "Brilliant." "Let's You Tube it later."

We looked round the shops but they were in short supply, so we went to the cinema and booked tickets for a film that evening. Then we headed down to the waterfront and got some tacos for lunch. I asked for one with steak and one with chicken, but the guy made one with steak and one with steak and chicken. Hawkeye Shin had clocked this and said we ordered one with steak and one with chicken. The guy tried to say this is what we had, but it wasn't. The guy then admitted he'd made a mistake and put some steak in the chicken one and could we not just take it. The crazy fool was all gesturing and making pleading faces and thumbs up signs to Sinead. My heart sank and I started to walk away because I knew this was a mortal error. Sinead looked right at him then started speaking loudly, clearly and slowly. "One with steak. One with chicken. It's really not that difficult. I'm not eating that and I'd like you to make what was ordered in the first place. It's simple." The guy did as he was told. Who wouldn't?

Given the trauma of ordering the things, they were actually really tasty and we sat in the sun and washed them down with a couple of cold beers. Bliss. We continued on to the Market Square area and discovered an open-air Irish pub showing the tennis. We got 2 jugs of Pimms and watched Sharapova and Jankovic. "I'm lovin this Lis. This is great." We stayed there until the sun started to fade then we walked back to get ready for a night at the flicks. "Let's tackle the bags in the morning," I said eyeing mine ominously. "Agreed."

Water & wine

Queenstown is an adrenalin junkie's paradise, so I feel like I do have to try stuff that's a bit out of the norm.

My first activity was the paragliding. I'll admit I felt a little bit nauseous as we were making our way to the Skyline Gondola. Walking past Harry's Bar at 10am, I couldn't help but hear they were blasting out 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'. "I hope that's not a warning," I said to Shin.
At the top of the mountain, I meet Brady - my pilot. We trek even further up the mountain and arrive at the open top. It looks really, really high. Brady gets me suited up, sticks a crash helmet on me, then begins sorting out the parachute. He explains that when he tells me to, he wants me to start walking, then running. Apparently, I've to keep running until there's no ground under my feet.

"So, basically, Brady, you want me to just run off the side of this mountain?"
"That's it Lis. Easy as that."
"So, eh, just ... em... off... the eh...the em... mountain?" I'm gesturing and giving plenty of assertive head nods but I'm totally nervous.

Shin is bouncing about like a happy hobbit. "Ha ha, you look like a nut case in that gear Lis." "Shut it, so do you." Shin spots Glenda, a 75 year old going for it too. "Oh she's so cute," Shin exclaims, "Look at her wee shoes."

Glenda goes first. Gav and Brady basically throw Glenda and her pilot off the mountain. But it's all going well and I can hear Glenda making positive sounds up in the air.
"OK Lis, because you're 50 years younger, you don't get any help," says Brady.
"So I'm ...em ...with the ... the em ... running thing... right?"
"OK Lis, you're a legend babe. Start walking."
I do and I feel the pull of the chute behind me. I keep going.
"Run baby run!" Brady shouts excitedly.

I do. I keep running. I run right off the mountain. I keep running til Brady points out I'm running on fresh air and I can sit back and enjoy the ride. How cool is this. It's amazing. I feel fantastic. So smooth. The whole town opens up beneath me. Like way, way beneath me. I start speaking like Brady.
"This is awesome." I shout
"Dude." He says in agreement.

The next day is river surfing. At 9am we drive to the start of the route. Another day, another chance for me to put on a wetsuit and risk some more bruises. Shin, wisely, has decided to give it a miss and is snoozing in her bed as I jump 25 ft off some rocks into the freezing cold river. Bjorn and Thomas - the guides are pretty hands off and basically let us get on with it.

My experience with activities is that they are never as scary or full on as they seem. I take all that back now. Grade 4 rapids - totally terrifying! I get sucked down into whirlpools and crash over some surprisingly big waves. It's exhilarating stuff - especially when I manage to surf along one of the waves.

Annoyingly, a Spanish woman surfs over the top of me and traps me under water. I can't surface. I get sucked down further. In desperation, I let go of my board, turn into the Hulk and propel myself out of the water. I don't know if I roared out loud, but I definitely did on the inside. The Spanish woman says "Sorry" and, despite the fact that she just nearly killed me, I smile back and say "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

The river goes quiet again and I float for a bit. It's the same place they filmed Lord of the Rings where Frodo sails past the pillars of the Kings. Cool as anything.

Bjorn and Thomas take us out of the river to show us the next stage of our journey. "This is the Chinese Dogleg." I look down and see about a mile of furious rapids crashing over rocks and forming big waves and little whirlpools. They've got to be kidding. But apparently they're not. "OK guys - upstream and out, downstream onto the first wave, barrel-roll the second, duck-dive the third then stay left as the river splits and we don't want to lose anyone."

3 waves? I can see about 20. I'm so not going to get this right. We head out and my heart is pumping full on as I face down the first set of waves. Miraculously, I manage it. Bjorn decides I'm fine and goes off to the aid of one of the others. I'm kicking left like he told me. Kicking left, left, left.

Suddenly Thomas is roaring at me to go right. Apparently I've gone too far left. I turn and kick and kick but the river is far too strong and it's just carrying me where it wants.
"Right, right, right," Thomas is still roaring. "You're going to hit the rocks."
I can see I'm going to hit the rocks. They're right in front of me and I can't move.
"You'll hit the rocks Lisa."
"I know," I shout back at him.
"Are you kicking?"
No Thomas, I'm just lying here like it's a lilo not bothering about the impending doom I see before me ... "of course, I'm fu*king kicking!"
As I start to go over the first of the rocks his face crumples into a look that says 'I'm not sure I'll be able to recover all the parts of your body.' It all happens really quickly and the only thing I'm aware of is some kind of tearing on my right hand which is under the board.

I get through it and Thomas looks both amazed and relieved. He grabs me and pulls me into the middle of the river. We're not in the middle of some grade 3 rapids which feels like a holiday compared to the Chinese Dogleg. I make it to the end of the course before everyone else - so I guess my shortcut over the rocks helped. My fingers are missing quite a lot of skin and bleeding quite a lot, but I feel great.

Telling Shin about it later, she asks with a chuckle: "So, would you say you enjoyed it?"
"I know it sounds utterly perverse given what I've just told you, but yeah, I really did!" What a weirdo!

In the evening I realise that all my muscles are aching and my right ankle is really sore. I explain to Shin that I broke my left ankle when I fell off a hill in Skye and my right one now does all the work (though it's still carrying that injury from the coconut). It was clearly exhausted by the kicking in the flippers. After some harassment, Shin agrees to rotate it for me and make it crack. She has to put on her music so she won't hear it, but when it does crack she feels it and screams then refuses to do it again. "You need Jo, Lis. She'd love doing that. She'd peel all your skin off too!"

Today was the turn of the wine tour. I wake up early and discover it's pouring down outside. Glad I've got the wine tour booked, getting merry on pinot noir sounds like an excellent way to spend a rainy day. "Oh, there will be plenty of old men with grey hair, beards and moobs so you'll enjoy that," Shin says as I'm leaving.

I get picked up by Wendy and meet my fellow quaffers Brett and Anne from Ontario. We're joined by 2 girls from Cork and Honeymooners Bill and Nicole from Chicago. We head to the Peregrine winery where we sample 2 rieslings (which are bone dry and all the better for it in my opinion), a pinot gris (which smells and tastes of pineapple) and 2 pinot noirs. Everyone seems nice, but quiet and subdued.

By the second winery, it's all change. Raucous! We get to try a sweet riesling, an oaked Chardonnay and an unoaked one and 2 more pinot noir. We sit down for lunch (breads, salami, chorizo, houmous, sun-dried tomato pesto, cherry chutney - delicious). I have a glass of the 2004 reserve pinot noir and Anne and I find we like the same kind of wines. "Bigger the better," I say. "In fact, I like them so big you need a note from your mum to drink them." Anne thinks this is hilarious and writes it down. "I'm going to use that," She tells Brett. I tell her I'm available on a retainer basis.

I'm feeling all warm and bendy so have gone into 'holding court' mode and am telling stories and laughing at my own jokes. I'm glad Sinead isn't here - she'd be mortified and probably slap me.
At the Rockburn winery, we're treated to an impromptu tour of the production site by Malcolm the winemaker. He's really down to earth and is able to answer my question about compensating for the air in screw caps versus corks. Cool. Their 2006 Pinot Noir is a knock-out, but unfortunately they don't yet have a distributor in the UK.

Finally, we stop at the Farm and try their bubbles and 4 other wines of our choosing. I opt for the 2004 & 2005 Pinot Gris and the Viper & the Tiger pinot noirs - though to be honest I'm finding it more and more difficult to discern the differences! Hee hee hee.

I ask Wendy to stop off at a road-side fruit seller so I can buy some of their big juicy cherries. Amazing. You get about 200 in a bag and they only cost about 1.50 GBP. Last time I bought cherries M&S charged me seven quid!!

Did some shopping in Untouched World and resisted buying a cool pair of red shoes. About to join the Shinbob for a drink and a bit of the Australian Open.

It Gets Cold in the Desert

About an hour outside of Vegas, I was sitting on the plane's emergency chute storage box rotating my ankles and looking out of the window at the land below. I've never seen anything like it before. The landscape was just so different, I felt a million miles away from home. Result!When the plane landed I couldn't contain my giggles. The Las Vegas strip was in plain view and it looked mental. A pyramid, Eiffel Tower, New York skyline and a rollercoaster. Brilliant!

We caught a cab to our hotel and the driver pointed out some good eateries, bars and shopping malls. Bring it on. He also told us we could drink cocktails in the street and in cabs if we wanted to.

Our hotel, the Flamingo, is in a prime spot - just across from Caesar's Palace and the Bellagio. It's also hilariously kitsch. Faux marble and gold circa '62. We queued to check in and checked out the guests. People were dressed very casually - in jogging suits and pjamas - and the staff really weren't wearing much of anything. The women serving drinks and cigarettes were walking about in suit jackets, flesh coloured tights and stilettos. And nothing else! "You'd have to be really confident to walk about wearing that," Sinead offered. "I mean, they must know they're just wearing jackets. It's not like you'd ever leave the house, get to work and go 'oh look, I've just come out in my tights!"

We got to the front of the check-in queue where we met Michelle. "Would you like 2 queen beds or 1 king?" Michelle asked. "2 queens please," I said before turning to Sinead and saying "sorry". Michelle started laughing, but Sinead had been unprepared for my mischief and looked stunned. Michelle suddenly stopped laughing, obviously thinking poor Sinead had been unceremoniously dumped in reception. As we walked off to our room, Sinead said "you're a total bitch. Michelle thinks I'm some kind of bunny-boiling lesbo now." Mwa ha ha ha! Though I'm now holidaying in fear of retaliation from Sinead.

We opted to stay up and try to go the distance rather than falling asleep. Feeling refreshed after hot showers, we got dressed and went out for food. We immediately became aware of a number of things:

• It was absolutely baltic!!! like 6 degrees!!! Totally didn't pack for that and had to go to Gap to get a hoodie and a scarf. This also meant that I could pretty much only wear this for my whole time in Vegas. Nice!
• Nobody dresses up (no bad thing considering I'm too cold to take my hoodie off. "Hello Vegas, here are my nipples."). The slot machine junkies all wear velour jogging suits or pjamas. The hotels encourage this by selling them in the gift shops.
• The hotels are massive and it's impossible to find your way out. We regularly spend 20 plus minutes just trying to get out of the casino areas.
• We're so used to there being no smoking in public places that we take some sort of chemical reaction to it. Gambling and smoking seem to go together so we spend most of our time coughing and squinting our way through the casinos looking for an exit.

Anyway, we headed out to the Fashion Show Mall as we both fancied steak and I'd read about a good place called the Capital Grille (it's fancy cause they've added an 'e' on the end). We found it - eventually - though I could no longer feel my hands or feet. My medium-rare fillet mignon was perfection and a bottle of Frog's Leap zinfandel was smooth as you like. By coffee, we were both wilting and needed some sleep. "I can't walk back without a coat, hat, scarf and gloves," I said. "Me neither, let's get some clothes in the mall." It was 10pm and the shops we all still open. I love this place. I got a massively thick Hollister hoodie but we decided to get a cab back anyway.

We got up at 7am the next day and headed to the Bellagio for a buffet breakfast. We stocked up on loads of fresh fruit. I got a made-to-order omellette, followed by more fruit. Thoroughly stuffed, we set off. First stop was the Moroccan-themed mall where I bought a big man's scarf from Gap. I added this to the Hollister hoodie I was wearing. At least now I was able to go outside. Sinead saved me from foolishly buying a new camera by suggesting it was probably the batteries on their way out. So I bought new batteries instead. Whadda ya know, it now worked fine.

We went to New York New York - one of the hotels further south on the strip. It's hip and funky and it has a roller coaster. We paid our $15 and waited for the front seats. As the safety harness came down I said: "I've just realised it's five years since I've been on one of these. I feel older. I feel like I'm going to have to scream." "Don't be a woose Lis. No screaming OK?" As the car started its ascent I looked around. All I could see was mountains and desert - how surreal. Then came the massive drop. Suddenly Sinead started screaming and I couldn't stop laughing. There was a loop, a hang, a barrel-roll and a vortex. Excellent.

From there we progressed down the strip, going into all the hotels. We found it difficult to take it all in. Everything is huge and sumptuous and busy and noisy and totally fascinating. We realised that neither of us get the gambling thing. Maybe if I could play poker or black jack or something, but definitely not sitting at the slots constantly feeding coins in and hitting random buttons. Some people are literally plugged into the machines (they have little cards on extendable chains). I don't get the appeal but millions of people do so maybe I'm missing something.

We got half price tickets and went to see Legends in Concert. Free cocktail on arrival - quality. Ray Charles, The Supremes, Tom Jones and Elvis. The guy playing Elvis was totally hot and the guy playing Tom Jones was a sleaze and grossed me out, but not as much as a picutre of the real Tom Jones squatting in a pair of black speedos that they showed on a big screen while the guy was singing. I'm still having nightmares! Put it away Jones.

Get this, we took an early morning helicopter out to the Grand Canyon for a champagne breakfast. The most amazing experience of my life (and I've done a lot of drugs). We landed beside the Colorado River and took in the views. I can't even begin to do it justice. Awe-inspiring, spectacular, humbling, mad ...

Also went for a luxury spa at the Paris Hotel. Crazy experience which I will write up in more detail when I get a chance. Went to see the dancing fountains in front of the Bellagio. Totally beautiful. They did it to 'O Holy Night', nice and Christmassy.Went to the Celine Dion Shop. Hilarious. What a lot of shit. I can't believe that anyone buys any of that trash.

Loads more to tell you but in short it was totally surreal. I loved it. Not a fan of the gambling or casino stuff, but thought everything else was ace and had a blast.

Calling London

There's nothing like a part-time job to teach you the value of money. And after spending four weekends ringing Londoners to ask them what they think of Ken Livingstone, I've been able to say no to my breakfast smoothie at the gym. It's yummy, but it costs £3.50 and that's about 40 minutes of autodialling and being told where to stick my phone.

I've spoken to some lovely sane people (and been complimented on my accent which is always nice), but I've also had some real crackpots. One guy told me that he didn't have time to answer my questions, but then spent 10 minutes telling me how much he disliked Alex Salmond. An elderly lady was so keen to give me accurate information that she started going through her filing system to tell me exactly which funds she's currently invested in. One woman answered her phone whilst apparently having sex - "bit busy at the moment love, bit busy. Call me later love, bit later". And at least 10 people complained that I'd called them during their Sunday dinner - which begs the question: Why did they answer the phone?

The people who work there are a real mixed bunch too - old, young, space cadets, skint actors, underpaid creatives and socially-inept academics. On Saturday I was sitting next to Klyne McDougal. Klyne is 17 and tackles each call like a Nazi giving orders in English. She shouts the script in monotone verbatim. "GOOD. AFTERNOON. MY. NAME. IS. KLYNE. I'M. CALLING. TO. ASK. YOU. SOME. QUESTIONS. ABOUT. YOUR. ATTITUDES. TOWARDS. KEN. LIVINGSTONE." At first I was bemused as to why she had more people agreeing to speak to her than I did, but then I realised it was because she's terrifying. If I answered the phone to that, I'd be convinced that the owner of the voice also had me in the sights of their sniper rifle!

On Friday I drove over to Fife to interview my Grandad about his life. I decided a while back that I wanted to know more about my family history and document my grandparents' thoughts and experiences. Besides being interesting, I figure it will be useful in writing my autobiography and making future appearances on Parky.

Mog cooked me dinner on Saturday night before we headed out to the cinema to see Notes on a Scandal. Sinead had gone to see it the previous evening and texted me the following review: "Notes on a Scandal is excellent. Only comment is, Judi Dench has massive nostrils and the bath scene will give me nightmares. That arm - yuk!" As always, Sinead's no nonsense review was spot on.

My long overdue cinema-fest continued on Sunday evening with a group outing to see Babel. It, unfortunately, was not excellent. I could see what it was trying to do, but it fell far short of the mark. There were moments of genius, but ultimately I felt that Crash did it much, much better.

What's in the box?

The financial review continued last week, and I got a bit over-ambitious (which is by no means a rare thing for me). Having found a suitable extra-job (thankfully, it does not involve Scorpio Leisure), I piled on the hours and totalled it all up until it looked like I could pay off my mortgage in five years. However, I decided that I did want to live after all and scaled back considerably.

After having faced the prospect of being mortgage-free at the tender age of thirty (two), I now felt slightly depressed that I'd never be able to pull it off. I needed something to lift my spirits again - quickly. So I decided to buy a tortoise. How very retro.

A tortoise would be the perfect addition to my flat. I mulled it over. (I'm sure it would be quite independent and be happy doing its own thing, no hair means less fluff on my carpet, it could eat all the fruit and veg I never get round to (a live recycling machine if you will), it would casually wander through to join me as I sit writing, I'd come home from work and it'd be wandering around, it wouldn't make any noise. It would be very much like my wooden giraffe but somewhat more mobile - perfect.)

I discovered I could buy one online for a discounted price of £99. And free delivery - even better. I'd have to get it delivered to work (as I wouldn't want it being punted about the Royal Mail depot) but I quite liked the thought of everyone asking: "What's in the box?" And my response: "A tortoise." Whereupon I would indeed reveal a tortoise.

My mum was distinctly unimpressed. "You're not getting a tortoise," she said with an exasperated sigh. "I'm an adult, with my own property, you can't tell me I'm not getting one." "You're not getting a tortoise." "But I think it'd be really cool." "Why don't you wait until you have a big house, with a big garden." "When I have a big house with a big garden I'll get a horse. The whole point of the tortoise is its lack of need for space." "Well, we'll see - maybe Santa will bring you one." "Stop implying that you have any influence on this decision." It never ceases to amaze me how quickly I can regress to my four-year old self in certain conversations with my mum. A hideous image of me dressed up like Bette Davis in 'Whatever happened to Baby Jane?' flashed into my mind, and I made a mental note not to discuss my wackier notions with my parents.

I was explaining all this to some friends on Thursday night. I don't think any of them were really getting it. Sinead looked at me like she'd heard about as much as she could take and said: "I don't think you're in a fit state to have a pet ... hearing you talk about it being like a wooden thing that moves about."

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm not actually getting one. I found out that you need to buy a special tortoise table, a UV lamp and lots of 'natural' obstacles to place around your house in order to exercise the thing. That's a bit more complicated and messy than I'd originally thought. And also, I realised that it'd have to excrete all the leftover veg I fed it, so - again - more messy than I thought."

Hopefully though, my two jobs and my round-the-world trip will occupy me enough to keep me from ever actually buying livestock over the Internet.

Claws and crimps

Life? Manic? Yes! And not in the good way. Work has been so crazy that I've taken to avoiding my email and my phone like the plague. In some ways it's good because it's only ever pishy little stuff that comes via those channels, but in others it's bad because I now have something of a 'diva' attitude towards my tasks. "If it's not even remotely interesting baby, I ain't touching it."

Yesterday I ran a future planning session for my favourite clients. It went really well and I only mentioned taking my clothes off once. Today, I was filming in Leith. Oh there's no end to the glamour. A couple of months back I'd drawn up some storyboards (complete with stick men) in response to a client's request to make a film, and today it all became reality. My left hand was required for one of the scenes. The very same left hand that had an confidence-shattering experience in this month's company magazine.

Somehow I ended up being centre-spread. There are a number of things wrong with the picture:

1) It's enormous
2) It's a cut-out and as such is bereft of context
3) The photographer shot it from below
4) My left arm is outstretched and, as a result of point 4, appears hideously disproportionate to the rest of my body
5) I am wearing a (hideously disproportionate) chunky, gold bracelet on my (hideously disproportionate)left wrist.
6) I pity da fool.

The only saving grace is that there are staples and a crease down my face so people may not know it's me (I pray. Oh dear God, do I pray).

My colleagues have now nicknamed me 'the claw' and do the full on Toy Story thing every time I open my mouth.

Anyway, I saw today's film as a chance to recover. I was required to stack £2 coins. It doesn't sound very difficult, but I hadn't factored on stage fright. My hand began shaking like Sue-Ellen in the early years. I had to do four takes - dismal.

It was really interesting seeing the film come together. I also had to sit in on the voice-over recording which was really cool. The guy had an amazingly smooth voice, which reminded me of just how nasal mine is.

The last few weeks have been really good for catching up with my friends. Jen (who incidentally was pished at her work today)and I had a marathon phone sesh which was cynical yet optimistic. I also spoke to Kerry, who informed me that one of her budgies has 'croaked'and that she'd bought a replacement which is 'much brawer like'. We're heading off to see the Scissor Sisters in Newcastle next week and are trying to decide what to wear. I'm definitely going to crimp my hair. I've had crimped hair every day this week and it's been attracting a lot of attention. Jayne said:"Oh my goodness. I've not seen a crimp since 1987." To which I replied avec great gusto: "Well Jayne, you'll be seeing lot more of them as it's a key part of the look for this season. And as everyone around here takes their fashion leads from me, expect to see plenty more crimped heads around here next week." She laughed, but in a nervous kind of way.

Sinead emailed with a subject heading of "Colin Fry - Mon 13th, Playhouse", so we're going to see him. I'm looking forward to hearing repeated use of the word "passed-over". On the phone last night, Sinead told me that she'd sent the same email to Joleen and she'd written back saying: "Great! When & where?" Prone to Hulkesque outbursts, Sinead resisted and replied: "Mon 13th :) at the Playhouse :)". Well done that girl!

That's enough from me. I'm off to work on my fireside tartan.

It's my birthday and I'll lie if I want to

Today I turned 27 - nothing spectacular as ages go. It was a very, very lovely birthday though. I had a fair few cards to open. Mog had already gifted me with a beautiful baby blue leather toiletries bag from Crabtree & Evelyn the night before. I got a handful of congratulatory text messages and my Grandad called to tell me he was coming over to Edinburgh to take me out for lunch.

I set off for work - looking mighty fine for a 27 year old (if I may say so myself). I stopped in at Tenkos to get some croissants and muffins for my team-mates. When I arrived, there was a card waiting for me - Little Miss Sunshine no less!

My Grandad had offered to take me to lunch at The Dome, but I find it overpriced for lunch and thought he'd really prefer my suggestion anyway. He did and so we headed to Monster Mash on Thistle Street. He stopped outside to read the menu and was loving those prices! He said he fancied the steak pie and I warned him that it was HUGE. "Ah, but this is my main meal of the day," he protested. Whatever, it was his call. The steak pie arrived. "Bloody hell, will you look at the size o' that? I'll never manage all that!" But he did. Unfortunately, he didn't have any room for the pudding he'd been eyeing up.

I headed back to work and did nothing for an hour and a half, then headed home at 4pm. I set about getting myself ready for my girls' night. Sinead pitched up with some beautiful flowers and a train station-rage story about a very rude man who had knocked her over and felt her wrath.

Leanne arrived at the door after spending some time in next door's stairwell. We all enjoyed a few glasses of syder brut - a very delicious and elegant cider. I was thrilled to open Leanne's present and find 'The Crimson Petal and the White' which I am dying to start reading. The Elizabeth Arden eight-hour cream will also come in very handy fighting the signs of aging I'm sure.

We took a cab to Gurkha Brigade because it was pouring down. Mog arrived seconds later. Katie had called to say she would be late. 40 minutes later she burst through the door looking every inch the drowned rat. It was the most dramatic entrance ever and met with laughter from us and most of the restaurant. A quick spruce up in the ladies room and she was back to her gorgeous self. We proceeded to have a rioutous night which mostly involved my friends taking the piss at my expense. Sinead told us about Betty the guide dog and her unfortunate accident in one of Fife Council's meeting rooms.

We headed on to City where Sinead had wangled us onto the guest list under an assumed name. It was all very exciting. It was plenty busy and Boogie & Dingo from Forth One were on the decks. We were all enjoying a boogie of our own when it occured to us that everyone else seemed really young. A guy danced his way over and started giving me some chat. He looked young - really young. I asked him how old he was. 17 apparently!!! I told him I was old enough to be his mother. "That's stretching it a bit," Mog said. "Not if it were a Daily Record headline," I replied.

After about an hour and a half, (45 minutes of which was spent trying to get into the locked room with the seats), we all admitted to feeling a bit too old and headed back to mine for a cup of tea.

We put Katie in the Mastermind chair and 'cubed' her. The results were interesting.

All in all, it turned out to be quite a spectacular birthday. 27 feels right.

Not so Keane on Jesus

Okay, so no Keane. They have decided to cancel their concert in Princes Street Gardens on account of exhaustion. Big bunch of girls. I prefer Snow Patrol anyway - so there!

This week has been busy but not necessarily with anything particularly exciting. For that reason I should probably stop this entry right here. But I won't because, well, it's never stopped me in the past and I'm here now - writing stuff.

Work has been good. Very busy, which keeps my mind off fun things and my eyes off the clock. I've designed a suite of posters to promote the marketing department internally. I wanted to get across the idea that the department now had the staff and the time to do some proper marketing. That we are 'open for business again', so to speak.

The first poster I came up with said 'Back again' with a nice smiley picture of Jesus. I loved it and think Jesus is an underused marketing tool in the financial services sector. However, I opted for self-censorship and relegated 'Jesu' to my drawer. He has now been replaced by Dirty Den in one poster and Bobby from Dallas in another. Quality.

I was asked to come up with some creative ideas for a short movie file promoting pensions. I'm actually quite excited about this, which is now depressing me. How bad must it be when I'm excited by pensions? I think I'll go slash my wrists with my Coldplay CD. (Repeat to self: my job pays the bills!)

Leanne and I had dinner at David Bann on Tuesday night. It was so good we didn't bother going to see a Festival show as planned. Instead, we ordered the Amaretto Marscarpone cheesecake and took our time over it. It was an excellent night made more so by the realisation that food, wine and chat with a good friend is preferable to a professional comedian.

On Thursday evening, I endured my first hockey training session. Two hours, three minor injuries and a static wheeze later I hobbled home. Truly knackered, I immediately drew a hot bubble bath and indulged my desperate muscles. Hopefully, the addition of fitness training on Tuesdays will mean the sessions get easier. I live in hope.

I treated myself to an afternoon showing of 'Easy Living' at the Filmhouse during my lunch hour on Friday. I expected it to be quite empty, but Cinema 1 was rammed. It was top-quality screwball and I loved every minute of it. When the boy and the girl get together at the end, his long disapproving father gives him a job. He tells the girl she has a job too - "cooking my breakfast." What a proposal! I returned to work in a delightful mood for the rest of the day.

The office summer BBQ on Friday night was really quite pish. It was pouring with rain, there was a poor turnout, I was about the only one dancing and I left my umbrella in the club at the end of the night.

Saturday was much better. Another great film at the Filmhouse (The Laughing Policeman) and dinner with Sinead afterwards. I was ravenous and longing for a steak, so we eventually ended up at the Smokestack in Leith. My medium-rare fillet steak and chips went down an absolute treat. We chatted deeply for hours until we realised that Sinead might miss the last train. A taxi to Waverely meant she was just in time for her rowdy journey home.

Today I depressed myself by reading all about the Horn of Africa. (How much for that Russian AK-47? Why sir, that'll set you back three cows. And the US M-16? Oh, that'll be five cows. Well I'll take that then since there's no vegetaion to feed my cows and an M-16 will do a better job of shifting the 6,000 desperate souls who are sleeping on my football field-sized plot of land. Maybe it'll convince them to head for the port and try to secure passage to the Yemen in a death-trap steel container on a rickety ship that's likely to sink with the loss of all life before the appearance of the Yemeni officials forces the smugglers to toss their human cargo into the carnivore-infested waters or maybe they'll join me in a war with the Ethiopians across the desert. That Bin Laden guy sure speaks a lot of sense.) It's a mire of such complete desolate hopelessness that I don't think there's even the hint of a solution. Governments aren't talking about it - not so much because they don't care (which they don't), but more so because their shocking impotence would be laid bare for all to see. The Middle East is child's play compared to this.

But that's too depressing a note on which to end this entry. Sinead said to me last night: "When something doesn't go to plan, people have a tendency to set themselves in a pessimistic frame of mind. They think things can only ever be worse, but a lot of the time things turn out better than they could have imagined." From the long list of personal success stories I've been acquiring, I know that's true. She was talking in the context of a personal issue rather than a global one, but it would be pretty damn skippy if the world got a break too.

Lesbian, Prostitute or Lesbian Prostitute?

Ah le weekend! It came with a huge sigh of relief and a good deal of anticipation.

Departure Lounge had been in the diary for some weeks and Kerry's Caribbean party had been in for even longer. I left work early on Friday and spent a long time pampering myself and getting ready. I wanted to make an effort for Departure Lounge and decided to liven up my outfit just a tad. It was a black t-shirt with an open back so I decided to wear it back-to-front - as you do. For a splash of colour (and, mostly, to cover my bra) I wrapped a blue/green/yellow scarf around my breasts. I was pleased with the look and set off for The Scotsman hotel to meet Katie.

I walked into the North Bridge Brasserie and everybody stared. While my attire was perfectly acceptable for a Departure Lounge party girl, I looked a bit too much like a working girl for The Scotsman. It was 2For 1 on champagne cocktails so I took the liberty of ordering raspberry bellinis. Katie showed up and we filled each other in on recent events. We headed down to the Ladies' room before we left, where Katie told me the most outrageous feminine hygiene story I've ever heard.

At The Caves, we were duly stamped with the word 'entered' on our wrists, given some balloons and headed upstairs for a gin & tonic. Not long after, Lawrence and his friend Dave showed up. We got stuck in about the Sambuca and I confided in Katie that I was "totally pished". Downstairs, I got my groove back and shook it on the dancefloor. My top started to slide down to reveal my bra - not a good look. I discreetly managed to fix it and continued to dance whilst holding it in place. Unfortunately, my jeans are a little too big and they ended up halfway down my arse - an even worse look. Hey ho! It was still a great night.

Outside, Katie and I disuaded some Danish tourists from wasting their time and headed off with Lawrence, Dave and Marc for a game of golf in some secret gardens. We waited until 4.30am for it to get a bit lighter and crept into the walled garden. It was one of the coolest places I've ever been. It was massive and had spectacular views to Arthur's Seat. The early morning mist only made it more romantic. I'm so getting myself a key for that place one day.

I got back to my flat around 6am and slept until 8.45am when Kelly collected me to play in a hockey tournament. It was not one of my better performances and I collapsed into bed on getting back to my flat.

Kerry's Caribbean party was kicking off at 3.30pm, which was now an hour ago, and I still had to make my outfit. I scooped out a pineapple and made it into a bikini top. I then used the top of the pineapple as a hat. How cute! Sinead called to find out where the hell I was. I explained that I'd been playing golf until 6am and then played in a hockey tournament at 9am, so was understandably knackered.

I arrived at Kerry's at 6.30pm, to a full swing calypso. The place looked great and everyone had made a big effort with the dressing up. Katie showed up as a treasure chest, which Sinead remarked was "very lateral". Kerry asked if it was true that I'd been playing golf and hockey. I said that it was, to which she replied "What? Like a big lesbian?" The music was great, the cocktails were like rocket-fuel and the chat had everybody rolling on the floor.

I spent Sunday at my parents' place. It was really, really nice. We took a walk to the fruit farm, got some gorgeous raspberries and strawberries, had some ice cream in the sun and walked home again. My dad was on really good form, which I was glad about after last Thursday's lock-out episode. I fell asleep outside in the sun for a bit and then we headed out for dinner.

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend, but I think I need an extended rest to recover.

Adventures in babysitting (part 2)

I really must be getting more responsible in my old age; this is the second time in as many weeks that someone has entrusted their kids to me. Mog and I babysat for Moranna's two boys who were so lovely they actually took themselves off to bed at 9pm. At first I was really chuffed that they were so well behaved, but then I started to worry that it was because I was so boring. I kept checking with Mog and saying: "Do you think they had a good time though?". Mog pointed out that it wasn't a date and maybe I should just shut up. So I did.

Week two in the new job vastly improved upon the first. I definitely feel like I'm getting to grips with the various systems and processes. My creative streak was invited out to play when my team started discussing our presentation for the department away day. After brainstorming some (very good) ideas, one of my colleagues told me I was born to do this job. "Yes", I replied, "if there was a job entitled 'Director of Fannying-about' it would be mine." I'm even starting to enjoy the whole 'finance' aspect of my job and was thoroughly engrossed in a presentation on inheritance tax and trust funds on Friday. I can't believe I just shared that with you - how sad am I?

On Tuesday night I went to a 'fashion event' at John Lewis. It was a seasonal update from the same woman who told me my hair colour was 'wrong'. I enjoyed a preview of the latest fashions for the season, champagne (in a plastic cup, because I was late) and an hour to peruse the shop floor. Although I had promised myself I wouldn't buy anything - I came home with 2 (adorable) skirts and one very pretty top. I felt guilty about blowing my monthly budget until half-way through my second G&T with Moranna afterwards.

Hooked up with Sinead on Friday night for more tapas. She had a conference over in Edinburgh and attended in the stead of one the local councillors. Hilariously, when she called to explain this to the conference organisers they assumed she was a councillor herself so she had to go out and buy a cheap shiny suit and some big bling jewellery to carry off the duplicity.

On Saturday morning my hair was dyed darker and, therefore, closer to my natural colour in an attempt to cut my 6 weekly maintenance costs. It got the thumbs up from both Sinead and Mog. On Sunday, I went to look at some flats and saw one that I really like. Fingers crossed, it gets a seal of approval from the surveyor.

Irritatingly, one of my former colleagues called to say that the dodgy guy from 'Networking?' (see below) had called to ask for my new contact details. They didn't pass them on but he said he'd "track me down himself." Every night, when I leave work, I have a look around; half expecting him to be lurking suspiciously in a Milk Tray man gone to seed kind of way.

And so I face the final curtain

Today was the last Monday morning I will ever spend in my current place of work. Deep joy people, deep joy. My boss is on holiday this week so I'd anticipated a rather laissez-faire approach to the duties of the day. Alas, I was foiled by two clients requesting greased-lightning quick turnarounds, and 10 call-centre shackeled Indians who wanted to talk about my phone bill. I was sooooo not in the mood to discuss anything telephonic (although the Indians may well have made more English-sounding words and, therefore, more sense than my current phone provider). You see, I had to get serious with those bastards at Telewest last week after they unexpectedly disconnected my phone and internet service. I used the words "ridiculous", "ludicrous", "unbelievable", "unacceptable" and, finally, "OK, I'll pay you". Bastards!

Last Friday afternoon descended into a right Royal farce when I found I couldn't get the songs from Oliver! out of my head. I ended up rewriting most of the lyrics to (loosely) fit a musical based around the people in my office. My crowning glory saw 'Food, Glorious Food' become 'Food, Perilous Food' in a nod to my psycho colleague who doesn't eat anything. On Friday evening I painted my nails a beautiful colour known as 'Hi Lily Hi Lo'. Discussing this any further would be about as interesting as watching paint dry, so I'll spare you.

Saturday morning's reading revealed that I was onto something with the whole 'why have babies thing'. According to the Economist, research suggests that, after decades of low fertility, a quarter of young German men and a fifth of young women say they have no intention of having children and think that this is fine. When Eurobarometer repeated its poll about ideal family size in 2001, support for the two-child model had fallen everywhere. Parts of Europe, then, may be entering a new demographic trap. People restrict family size from choice. But social, economic and cultural factors then cause this natural fertility decline to overshoot. This changes expectations, to which people respond by having even fewer children." I feel distinctly less 'freak-like' (if a little more German) now.

I picked Sinead up from the station on Saturday night and drove to Tapas Ole for some delicious nosh. We got stuck in about the vino tinto and elected to leave the car at the bottom of the hill and (pub) crawl our way back up. Sinead told me about the new project she's about to start working on. Allegedly, travelling people (pronounced theev-in-gyp-pose) are complaining that local authorities do not provide enough services for them. Sinead said her initial investigations have revealed that travelling people do not pay any council tax, so she's not going to get her knickers in a twist over their complaints. They also refuse to deal with anyone wearing a suit or anyone who is a woman. Women wearing suits are a definite no-no. As little is known about the travelling culture, Sinead may well have to infiltrate a band of travellers to get the real story. How terribly covert and exciting.

The evening was full of trademark no-nonsense advice, hilarious stories from the Kingdom and further afield, business banter and fiery political chat. After drinks in Smithy's, Mezz and the Outhouse, we bumped into Alex and his mate Simon and headed for some drinks in The Street. Alex was in the mood for some dancing (and, quite possibly, a fine young filly for the evening) at Ego or Mood. Apparently, Mood had one of those 'traffic-light' nights going on and the consensus was that I, sporting a brilliant green top, should steer well clear, unless I wanted barrel-loads of unsavoury attention. So pretty much a typical night at a club then ladies.

On Sunday morning I woke up with a disturbing need for drawing pins and bluetack. I decided the best thing to do would be to drive out to WH Smith at Fort Kinnaird (sometimes I disturb myself and think it best to remove myself from acceptable society). Once there, I decided to treat myself to the Hollywood-edition of Vanity Fair; to read whilst enjoying a hot chocolate and a muffin at Costa. I was flicking through the Appointments section of the Scotland on Sunday when I noticed a former employer was advertising in the hope of securing "two stars for five-star organisation". The article ended with the words: "not so much stars then, as supernovae." Honestly, you could smell the cheese a mile-off. I laughed until I cried (in the way that people who crave drawing pins and bluetack are wont to do).

Having worked for this organisation for two years, the idea of two burnouts existing within a black hole seemed so very fitting.

Tapas, tadpoles and tea

Decleor joy! - my 'official' invitation for an aromatherapy facial arrived in the post at the start of this week. I say 'official' because last week I went to the Decleor counter in John Lewis to complain about my AWOL new year's invitation. The kind Decleor lady apologised profusely and wrote me out an impromptu invitation. I now have luxury facials booked for February and March (ooooh, the extravagance!). The fact that the cost of the facial is redeemable against two or more products also means I will have to buy things on both occasions (well, it'd be foolish not to now, wouldn't it?).

I called Sinead on Monday night; she was making soup (very homely). She told me she would come through on Saturday and we could catch up and make a night of it (I have a feeling that carbs and black coffee will be required on Sunday). She'd been to see Brokeback Mountain and gave me her no-nonsense review of the film. It went exactly like this: "Saw Brokeback Mountain but wasn't convinced of the love story and there were too many sheep and hillside shots for me. Gyllenhall was a babe though."

Dinner at Tapas Ole with Leanne on Tuesday was great fun. It's the first time it's been just us since Ella (her beautiful baby) was born in November. I think Ella is the best baby I've ever met, but I do feel under pressure to mind my language whenever she's around (I'd hate for it to emerge in Ella's future therapy sessions that her ASBO stemmed from my four-letter rants during her infancy. Not that that's necessarily going to happen. Like I said, she's an excellent baby). It was good to be able to put my question (why do people have children anyway?) to Leanne in her new-found state of motherhood. Normally when I ask people that, they look at me like I'm some sort of freak. I'm not saying I don't want to have kids (I'm assuming the desire will hit me at some point - it just never has so far) or that I think it's wrong or anything - I'm just interested in people's conscious decisions to procreate (the unconscious decision to procreate is far more common and, for that reason, completely uninteresting to me). I totally get the desire to make love (thank the Lord!), I'm just a bit more shaky around the desire to make babies. I understand that people want to have kids, what I want to know is why they want them. Leanne got where I was coming from and feels kind of the same when it comes to having another. She said that people just assume that she'll want to have more, but she really can't see why she would want another one. Anyway - good chat!

Some prospective clients for my 'leisure-time' freelance venture flew up from London and took me out to dinner on Wednesday night. We went to the Living Room and I thoroughly enjoyed the food - though the house champagne left a lot to be desired. We talked business and they didn't hit on me - step up from last week (see 'Networking?'). I was firing on all cylinders and actually astounded myself. I had a bit of an out-of-body moment when I looked at myself, listened to what I was saying and wanted to laugh at how grown-up and knowledgeable I sounded. Anyway, I offered my services as a consultant for a few days and they were most receptive. Ka-ching!

I popped round to see Sam on Thursday night. It was freezing outside and the cup of tea he made me was delightful. I told him about my week; my ups and downs, triumphs and irritations. He told me about his week; his visa/passport issues, proteins, genes and bio-informatics. I am chuffed with myself because I have set-up a website and have been teaching myself how to build it (in the most basic of ways naturally). I was even more chuffed because Sam seemed chuffed at my being chuffed with myself because I wrote a little bit of HTML. Then he offered to give me a copy of Dreamweaver (an HTML cheat). Cool. I left Sam's place feeling ten times better than I had when I went in.

Bring on the weekend!