On trying to be a good citizen

Today at work, I gave blood. I'd been put on a 12 month ban following my Cambodia trip, so it was good to finally do it again. It was my ninth donation and, apparently, I get a badge the next time I donate. I'm trying to put that across and sound like a good citizen, but it's not really that impressive, as if I'd stuck to my three times a year promise I should have donated around 30 times by now. Hmmm.


As always, the form you have to fill in causes me no shortage of dilemma. One of the questions is 'Have you ever had sex with a man who has ever had sex with another man?' I mean, how are you supposed to know that? Occasionally I flirt with the idea of telling them about that one guy. The one whom I wouldn't be surprised to hear is actually gay. But I don't know for certain and it might just cause more hassle than it's worth - like the time my mum let slip my grandma was dead when she was trying to cash in my grandma's astronomically high BT shares. Bummer.

The other question that causes me problems is the one that asks 'Have you ever had sex for money?'

Now technically, the answer to that is of course 'no', but I have done it out of pity. Once. And I know a few people who have done it for jewellery. Oh, and one person who did it for a sports car. So what's the big difference? Why don't they just ask 'Are you, or have you ever been, a prostitute?', rather than making people who aren't prostitutes feel bad about themselves when all they're trying to do is be a good citizen.

Obviously the reason I would feel bad about myself is because I know that 'pity' is not a positive reason for having sex with someone. However, I also feel bad because at least the prostitutes had the good sense to get paid for something they didn't really want to do. So here's a new slogan for the Blood Donation Service ...

... Feel cheap and stupid:Give blood.

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.