In the current climate ...

If I hear the phrase 'in the current climate' once more, I'm going to smack someone silly. How boring is this credit crunch shit? 24/7 ad nauseum. OK, it's a story, but it's not the only story. And it's not the end of the bloody world. All those folk with masses of money saved up and all it does is cause them stress. Octogenarians queuing at the banks to move their millions. Why are they still saving? They're queuing and complaining about the cold and they won't even part with some of their cash to buy themselves a coat. What the hell is going on?

I'd be the worst person to have working in a bank branch at the moment. With people lining up to take their money out, I wouldn't be able to resist doing my best Jimmy Stewart impersonation and saying: "Well, I don't have your money ... it's in Bill's house... and Ted's house." I'd think that was hilarious, but I'm not sure anyone else would find it funny.

My gran called me the other night and was asking if my job was safe. "Gran, you don't need to worry about me. I live two doors down from a sauna, I'll never struggle for work."

I was walking along the street today and The Scotsman headline board had the headline "Is Jenners feeling chill of Icelandic collapse?" Oh for fuck sake. Calm the parochialism. HBOS, RBS, Jenners... no doubt The Scotsman will relish in telling us the next victim of the credit crunch is Sean Connery, haggis or the See You Jimmy hat. Oh no, not our comedy hats. I say again, for fuck sake.

I went out to the cinema with 'date guy' last night. I still like him. The cinema was really busy but I spied a couple of seats. However, when I got along the row I noticed that a girl was sitting with her legs stretched out across the seats - effectively taking up three entire seats. I looked at her and smiled but she just gave me a 'challenging' look. I said "excuse me, can you move your feet please?", but still she just stared, daring me to do something. I love a dare, so I smiled and sat on her shins. She quickly changed her mind and withdrew her feet. Don't mess with me little girl. After the film,'Date guy' and I went for some drinks and he walked me home again.

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.

Mince pies update

So I realised that I would have to change the date of my laser eye surgery after all. Apparently, you're not supposed to do any excercise for a week after it and running is a big no-no. "You could dislodge the corneal flap". "Yeah, I probably don't want to be doing that, let's just reschedule."

After all my hard work with 'the running', there was no way I was going to cancel my 10K. So now the 10K is on the 5th October and the laser eye surgery is on the 11th and I have about 3 weeks off work (incidentally, the magazine should be going to the printers next week - finally) and everything is grand. Except that I have stress excema on my eyelids and am wearing sudocrem for eyeshadow. Good look!

As I was paying for my eye surgery, the woman asked where I worked. I told her and she said: "You're entitled to a discount." I thought, "discounts are good, maybe I'll be £50 better off".

More like £500!!!

How fantastic is that news? I'm elated.

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.