New Year's Eve usually sucks and involves watching Angus Deayton or Jonathon Ross interviewing D-list celebrities before orchestrating a countdown and then partying to the sounds of the latest pop sensation.
Not this year. I had already resolved some time ago that I wanted to see in the New Year in a club. Clubbing in London is expensive, with tickets costing something like £40 if you want to go to a decent nightclub. So Andrew offers to go out clubbing with me on NYE in Nottingham for £10. How can I refuse? I obliged and it transpires that it's a fancy dress ball. The reality is, Andy has bought a Dracula outfit and basically wants the most use out of it as he can get. He's therefore searching the area for fancy dress parties. And he's found one. And I'm arm twisted into going.
So I drove to Nottingham this morning complete with fancy dress outfit. I go as Shania Twain in her Man! I Feel Like A Woman video - white shirt, black tie, black mini, knee boots, long black gloves and top hat. I swear Andy's jaw actually dropped when I emerged from the bedroom. We met up with some of Andy's mates and we all walked to the Works nightclub. On the way, I got nothing but comments from people on the streets and endless car horn beeps. Andrew thought it was hysterical. I was really embarrassed, not realising that wearing a mini and knee boots was going to grab so much attention.
Once inside the club it was cool because there were loads of other people all dressed up in different outfits. At least six, including Andy's mate Mark, were in musketeer outfits. Mark's girlfriend, Tara, dressed as Velma Kelly from the stage-play Chicago. At one point we got chatting to Dick Tracy, Snow White, a Stormtrooper and Al Capone in the gangway (and the reward for the weirdest sentence of 2004 goes to...). Andy simply LOVED the attention he was getting from his outfit. He spent the entire evening draping his cloak around every woman passing by, and hamming it up for all it was worth. Such an exhibitionist!! His picture even got onto the club's website (see here). But he did keep his promise of protecting me from any unwanted attention, after a guy reached out as if to shake my hand (which happens a lot when you're in fancy dress in a bar) and then proceeded to try and cop a feel.
The nightclub has two rooms with dance floors: one plays chart music and the other plays dance and drum 'n' bass. We spent most of 2004 in the second room and then the countdown and the aftermath were spent in the first room. We even managed to get a slow dance to a couple of songs so it was all good! They didn't play Shania Twain though, even though I did request it.
Mark and Tara left about 2am and Andy and I headed into the second room again for one more drink and basically to wind down from our drinking binge! We left about 3.15am and walked back. It was pretty cold outside so I got to wear Andy's cloak home! It was toasty warm but I was forbidden from taking it home with me to London! More car beeping and hand shakes were dealt out on the way back, and we just fell into bed around 4am.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
The Earth Strikes Back
Work was kinda fun today. Toblerone and Malteasers were passed rapidly around the office (obviously unwanted Christmas surplus) and the mentality was of a regular day at work... but with only 11 people instead of 27. Phones rang, invoices were paid, just the usual 'same old'. We chatted about what we did over Christmas and how some idiot is selling Christmas cracker toys on eBay for a total (so far) of 16p.
Obviously the talk did focus a great deal on the tsunami that hit Thailand. The oceanic plates should only move a couple of inches a year but on Sunday, slipped a staggering 10 metres, causing walls of water to hit all the surrounding coastlines at 500mph. The Earth actually wobbled from the force! People are scared mindless over global warming yet our own planet is taking violent measures of its own without our intervention.
A colleague's son was supposed to fly out to Thailand on Saturday evening, but the plane remained grounded after it was discovered that the door between the pilots and the passengers wasn't bulletproof, so he was put up for the night in a Hilton. Apparently he was pretty miffed. I'm telling you, if my flight was cancelled, inadvertedly saving my life, and I spent Christmas in a Hilton, I'd be freaking estatic!
Unfortunately, some jokes did circulate the office. Something about several thousand flip flops for freebies, water-based hotels, and amenities being a stone's throw from the sea...
Obviously the talk did focus a great deal on the tsunami that hit Thailand. The oceanic plates should only move a couple of inches a year but on Sunday, slipped a staggering 10 metres, causing walls of water to hit all the surrounding coastlines at 500mph. The Earth actually wobbled from the force! People are scared mindless over global warming yet our own planet is taking violent measures of its own without our intervention.
A colleague's son was supposed to fly out to Thailand on Saturday evening, but the plane remained grounded after it was discovered that the door between the pilots and the passengers wasn't bulletproof, so he was put up for the night in a Hilton. Apparently he was pretty miffed. I'm telling you, if my flight was cancelled, inadvertedly saving my life, and I spent Christmas in a Hilton, I'd be freaking estatic!
Unfortunately, some jokes did circulate the office. Something about several thousand flip flops for freebies, water-based hotels, and amenities being a stone's throw from the sea...
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Is Christmas over yet...?
Ever wish you were at work? I never thought I would until today. Four days at home with father is enough to drive me crazy. I can barely survive a regular two-day weekend. Four days is positively claustrophobic.
I stay in bed until 11am and then grudgingly get up for a cup of coffee and watch Apollo 13. Meanwhile, Chris went to Stevenage to buy pick-ups and, when he couldn’t find the ones he wanted, bought a £600 guitar instead (as you do). Boys and their toys, eh?
In other news, my best mate from home now has her own blog too (I think it's viral!). Check out Thoughts from Paradise Babe.
I stay in bed until 11am and then grudgingly get up for a cup of coffee and watch Apollo 13. Meanwhile, Chris went to Stevenage to buy pick-ups and, when he couldn’t find the ones he wanted, bought a £600 guitar instead (as you do). Boys and their toys, eh?
In other news, my best mate from home now has her own blog too (I think it's viral!). Check out Thoughts from Paradise Babe.
Monday, December 27, 2004
Christmas Two
Ah, the first of two Bank Holidays because Christmas falls on a weekend. After a luncheon of cold turkey (I’m beginning to hate turkey already) the family plus Pam and Lynne head out to my grandparents’ in Waltham Cross, and I take Anna with me to pick up my grandmother from Hoddesdon. Once we’re all there, there is the usual flurry of getting presents out and cups of tea being handed around the room. We all sat in a circle around three small tables of snacks (“It’s a bit like a dentist’s waiting room,” Chris remarks) and we all had a chat, relaying work-related information and enquiring as to whether everyone had a good Christmas.
Two hours in, and high tea was served (it's infamously known as Christmas II in our household). I was beginning to get bored. There is only so much you can talk about. I start texting friends, wondering if they were as bored as me. No replies. Crackers are pulled and I start to play with the tape measure I get, measuring everything I can, from the length of my middle finger (3.2”) and my waist (27”) to the table in front of me (18” x 12”) and my brother’s neck (14”). I start to pick at the snacks in front of me. I have a tray of Quality Street, a bowl of Pringles, and a bowl of roasted peanuts. One by one the Quality Street is consumed, and I am horrified when I discover I have actually had nine of them, not to mention the odd handful of peanuts. I go into the kitchen to escape the snacks and decide that my waist may not be a small as it was earlier…
We eventually left at 8.30pm, and I took my grandmother back home, texting Andy quickly before heading back to Enfield. He’s insisting on knowing what I’m wearing for the fancy dress party we’re going to on New Year’s Eve. I'm not telling. It's more fun that way!
Two hours in, and high tea was served (it's infamously known as Christmas II in our household). I was beginning to get bored. There is only so much you can talk about. I start texting friends, wondering if they were as bored as me. No replies. Crackers are pulled and I start to play with the tape measure I get, measuring everything I can, from the length of my middle finger (3.2”) and my waist (27”) to the table in front of me (18” x 12”) and my brother’s neck (14”). I start to pick at the snacks in front of me. I have a tray of Quality Street, a bowl of Pringles, and a bowl of roasted peanuts. One by one the Quality Street is consumed, and I am horrified when I discover I have actually had nine of them, not to mention the odd handful of peanuts. I go into the kitchen to escape the snacks and decide that my waist may not be a small as it was earlier…
We eventually left at 8.30pm, and I took my grandmother back home, texting Andy quickly before heading back to Enfield. He’s insisting on knowing what I’m wearing for the fancy dress party we’re going to on New Year’s Eve. I'm not telling. It's more fun that way!
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Apple Betty
It was decided a few weeks ago that we would go out for Boxing Day dinner. So at 3pm, we all head out to this Beefeater-style pub in Enfield Island Village: six of us, plus Pam and Lynne, my grandmother, my aunt and uncle, and two of their five children - thirteen altogether. Since it was originally for fifteen people, there was going to be spare meals going around, but because no-one had taken note of what they had pre-ordered two weeks ago, it was all rather hit-and-miss.
Starters came out and we all just grabbed what we fancied the look of. I managed to swipe chicken coujons, which surprisingly came with cranberry jelly… A few of the group were disappointed to discover that the spicy prawns were actually regular prawns with curry sauce thrown over them. Not really what we had in mind…
Second course was a choice between turkey, beef or salmon. I avoid beef and don’t eat fish, so I had turkey for the second day in a row. Now, I know that restaurants serve dinner en masse and it can be hard sometimes, but it tasted just like school dinners, or something you would cook at home. When you go out, you expect something a little better than you’re used to. I wasn’t particularly impressed and left most of it.
Third course came up and the choices were supposed to be Christmas pudding, waffles or brownies. Plate after plate of brownies arrived, and eventually one Christmas pudding made an appearance. And then my father was handed what appeared to be treacle tart.
“I ordered Christmas pudding,” he told the waitress.
“It’s apple Betty,” she replied.
“Apple Betty?” my father repeats.
“I thought she said ‘Alphabeti’,” my uncle offers.
“Isn’t that spaghetti?” I ask.
“This is apple Betty,” the waitress insists.
“Alphabeti?” my uncle asks, clearly perplexed.
“It‘s looks like treacle,” my father says, lifting the bowl and inspecting the contents as if they were highly contagious.
“It‘s a surprise,” the waitress offers, trying a new approach.
“It certainly is,” my uncle says. “I thought Alphabeti was spaghetti shapes.”
“It‘s a horrible surprise,” my father says pointedly. “I want Christmas pudding.”
The offending apple Betty is removed, brownies are consumed by the entire table (except Sian who snagged the only Christmas pudding available), and my uncle is still insisting that the waitress said ‘Alphabeti’. My grandmother finally pipes up and explains that apple Betty is actually caramelised apples served with a crumble topping and custard, and was often served to schoolchildren for lunchtimes as it was cheap and easy to cook in large quantities. We all munch thoughtfully and my uncle and aunt disappear outside for a smoke.
Presents are handed out over coffee and Rosemary got a mystic orb, which is really cool. It’s like a bowling ball but much lighter, and you are supposed to ask it a yes/no question, channel your energy through the orb, and then turn it over to see the answer. The bottom has a circle cut out of the outer shell and you can see that the ball is fill with a black watery substance and a triangle that answers plainly ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ and then gives 'maybe' answers like ‘It could be’ and ‘The stars shine favourably’. Of course we’re asking it really stupid questions like ‘Is Chris gonna be a rock star?’ and ‘Will I live to one hundred and three?’ and then laughing hysterically at the answers. Maybe we're just a bit punchy from the endless stream of fake smiles and niceties.
Starters came out and we all just grabbed what we fancied the look of. I managed to swipe chicken coujons, which surprisingly came with cranberry jelly… A few of the group were disappointed to discover that the spicy prawns were actually regular prawns with curry sauce thrown over them. Not really what we had in mind…
Second course was a choice between turkey, beef or salmon. I avoid beef and don’t eat fish, so I had turkey for the second day in a row. Now, I know that restaurants serve dinner en masse and it can be hard sometimes, but it tasted just like school dinners, or something you would cook at home. When you go out, you expect something a little better than you’re used to. I wasn’t particularly impressed and left most of it.
Third course came up and the choices were supposed to be Christmas pudding, waffles or brownies. Plate after plate of brownies arrived, and eventually one Christmas pudding made an appearance. And then my father was handed what appeared to be treacle tart.
“I ordered Christmas pudding,” he told the waitress.
“It’s apple Betty,” she replied.
“Apple Betty?” my father repeats.
“I thought she said ‘Alphabeti’,” my uncle offers.
“Isn’t that spaghetti?” I ask.
“This is apple Betty,” the waitress insists.
“Alphabeti?” my uncle asks, clearly perplexed.
“It‘s looks like treacle,” my father says, lifting the bowl and inspecting the contents as if they were highly contagious.
“It‘s a surprise,” the waitress offers, trying a new approach.
“It certainly is,” my uncle says. “I thought Alphabeti was spaghetti shapes.”
“It‘s a horrible surprise,” my father says pointedly. “I want Christmas pudding.”
The offending apple Betty is removed, brownies are consumed by the entire table (except Sian who snagged the only Christmas pudding available), and my uncle is still insisting that the waitress said ‘Alphabeti’. My grandmother finally pipes up and explains that apple Betty is actually caramelised apples served with a crumble topping and custard, and was often served to schoolchildren for lunchtimes as it was cheap and easy to cook in large quantities. We all munch thoughtfully and my uncle and aunt disappear outside for a smoke.
Presents are handed out over coffee and Rosemary got a mystic orb, which is really cool. It’s like a bowling ball but much lighter, and you are supposed to ask it a yes/no question, channel your energy through the orb, and then turn it over to see the answer. The bottom has a circle cut out of the outer shell and you can see that the ball is fill with a black watery substance and a triangle that answers plainly ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ and then gives 'maybe' answers like ‘It could be’ and ‘The stars shine favourably’. Of course we’re asking it really stupid questions like ‘Is Chris gonna be a rock star?’ and ‘Will I live to one hundred and three?’ and then laughing hysterically at the answers. Maybe we're just a bit punchy from the endless stream of fake smiles and niceties.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
My 26th Christmas
Rosemary had promised to wake me up at 5am, which I had repeatedly told her was highly unnecessary. As it was, she woke up, decided it was too early, and didn’t get up again until 8.30am. I grumpily drag myself out of bed and we open our ‘Father Christmas’ presents. Now, I don’t wanna be too explicit, because young eyes may be reading, but I had ten years of believing, and now sixteen years of not. Damn, that means this is my 26th Christmas. I feel rather old…
My grandmother came over to the house about 11am and we all opened our presents from everyone. Paper and tags flew all over the living room, with Rosemary screeching in delight every time she revealed yet another present she had requested. I did rather well myself, including:
- The X-Files on DVD (seasons 2 and 3)
- Steel Magnolias DVD (my tape got screwed up in the player)
- the entire collection of Britney Spears videos on DVD (I have a defective music gene)
- Snow Patrol’s Final Straw and Franz Ferdinand on CD (well, it‘s not entirely defective)
- and the usual plethora of bathroom delights from Boots
Despite all my lovely gifts, one cannot deny that receiving a book signed by the author is pretty much the best and niftiest pressie ever, and Jenny got me just that: A copy of No Plot? No Problem! signed by Chris Baty. Apparently the world needs my book. I am so utterly jazzed! The power of Chris Baty compels me to complete the re-write before the start of the next NaNoWriMo competition!
After lunch, we listened to the radio a little, but by the time you’ve heard Band Aid for the fiftieth time, it gets really annoying. We switched it off and Chris bought his guitar down and played for us. In the end he was taking requests, and we were singing (mostly acapella) to Beatles songs, with the occasional punk song by Green Day and Blink 182.Friday, December 24, 2004
Working(!) on Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve at work is like being in a morgue (I can only imagine, since I’ve never actually been inside a morgue). Phones were dead. The only call I got all day was from Noel, telling me that they were five minutes from the office and did I remember anything about work being carried out in Croxford Gardens?
I got more pressies at work: wine and chocs from Mark and Noel. At 10.30am, they decide to take me out for brunch, since there’s nothing better to do around the office. We drive around Haringey, trying to find a café that’s open, and find this little place off Seven Sisters Road, which seems to be inhabited by a bunch of people over from Lordship. I confiscate The Sun off Noel (he never skips page 3) and we all had a nice non-work-related chat. About 11.50am we stroll back into the office, and most of the people who could be bothered to come in have already gone. Air kisses and handshakes are exchanged between colleagues and, by 1pm, the only people left in the office are myself, Dennis, and Olubisi.
About 1.15pm, Dennis comes over and says, “I‘m on call out until five, so if you want to, you can go now.”
I ask him if he’s sure.
“Yeah, it‘s no problem. I bet no-one will ring anyway.”
Well, I don’t need to be told twice, and I’m out of there like a shot!
I got more pressies at work: wine and chocs from Mark and Noel. At 10.30am, they decide to take me out for brunch, since there’s nothing better to do around the office. We drive around Haringey, trying to find a café that’s open, and find this little place off Seven Sisters Road, which seems to be inhabited by a bunch of people over from Lordship. I confiscate The Sun off Noel (he never skips page 3) and we all had a nice non-work-related chat. About 11.50am we stroll back into the office, and most of the people who could be bothered to come in have already gone. Air kisses and handshakes are exchanged between colleagues and, by 1pm, the only people left in the office are myself, Dennis, and Olubisi.
About 1.15pm, Dennis comes over and says, “I‘m on call out until five, so if you want to, you can go now.”
I ask him if he’s sure.
“Yeah, it‘s no problem. I bet no-one will ring anyway.”
Well, I don’t need to be told twice, and I’m out of there like a shot!
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Scary, scary times...
I'm getting really worried about going to and from work lately. Only last week on the way to Induction, a whole corner of Wood Green was cordoned off because of a double murder. A couple of days later, a man was shot outside Tesco in Enfield Town. Yesterday a shopkeeper was stabbed in Wood Green and now this stabbing spree through Haringey and Enfield. All the time is gets nearer and nearer to home.
Roads have been blocked off all day. Worried colleagues from all over are enquiring if everyone is okay and if anyone has seen anything other than road blocks. Meridian Way had the road into Tottenham from the North Circular cordoned off. Further along, two police cars and a large van were parked up between the two lanes of traffic, stopping people randomly as they came out of Tottenham. At the side of the road, next to the railway line, a team of people came out carrying large envelopes marked 'FORENSICS' on them (just like on TV!), and it was all rather worrying.
It made top headlines across the news bulletins and was front page news on the BBC website. It really doesn't help that Edmonton was trying to shed its violent image...
Roads have been blocked off all day. Worried colleagues from all over are enquiring if everyone is okay and if anyone has seen anything other than road blocks. Meridian Way had the road into Tottenham from the North Circular cordoned off. Further along, two police cars and a large van were parked up between the two lanes of traffic, stopping people randomly as they came out of Tottenham. At the side of the road, next to the railway line, a team of people came out carrying large envelopes marked 'FORENSICS' on them (just like on TV!), and it was all rather worrying.
It made top headlines across the news bulletins and was front page news on the BBC website. It really doesn't help that Edmonton was trying to shed its violent image...
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Happy at work
I'm obviously doing something right at work. Normally, cards are exchanged between colleagues and only the boss gives presents. This is because there are so many people working in one area that giving presents, even to only whom we directly work with, would seriously damage finances. But today I received my fourth present from a work colleague. Maybe it appreciation of my administrative support…? Anyway, I'm really touched. Seriously. I can't stop grinning. Maybe it’s a ploy to keep me happy at work!
Monday, December 20, 2004
The finishing touches
The kitchen is finished. I know; it's a miracle! The floor was laid this morning and the last of the boxes were unpacked and cleaned up. The dining table is taken apart, moved into the 'dining room' (which is now a diner/kitchen) and that was cleaned up too.
Then Dad decides that the carpet in the living room needs cleaning. To do this, a hollow rubber ring is attached to the top of the vacuum cleaner and then a two-way tube is run through a hose attachment, so water goes from cleaner to carpet, and then the tube sucks up water from carpet into cleaner. It's very fiddly to put together, and we had all the usual grunts and over-dramatic sighs from father as he put the machine together and scrubbed at the carpet with the attachment. By 10pm, the carpet is soaked with water and shampoo remnants. Since we aren't allowed to step on the wet carpet, we all decide to retire to our bedrooms so we can watch the end of Armageddon on various televisions.
Then Dad decides that the carpet in the living room needs cleaning. To do this, a hollow rubber ring is attached to the top of the vacuum cleaner and then a two-way tube is run through a hose attachment, so water goes from cleaner to carpet, and then the tube sucks up water from carpet into cleaner. It's very fiddly to put together, and we had all the usual grunts and over-dramatic sighs from father as he put the machine together and scrubbed at the carpet with the attachment. By 10pm, the carpet is soaked with water and shampoo remnants. Since we aren't allowed to step on the wet carpet, we all decide to retire to our bedrooms so we can watch the end of Armageddon on various televisions.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
The morning after...
Now I know why I have the bigger room in the apartment: the window faces east. I woke up at 9am, sunlight hitting the sheets and refusing to fade even in the smallest measurement. I hide under the covers but I'm overwhelmed by the smell of the smoke still present in my hair and eventually give up all hopes of sleep by 10.30am. To add insult to the injury, I've forgotten shampoo and can't wash my hair. I tie my hair up and soak it in hairspray, which manages to mask the smoke rather well. Despite being tired and not completely sobered, I'm still wary of the frosted glass door of the bathroom and am extremely careful…! I read a bit of my latest purchase, Star Bores: The Original Parody, which is unbelievably funny, and start to poke my Christmas gifts from Andy. It consists of a smallish squishy package and a very heavy box, which I'm told is not a brick, but I can't drop it or get it wet… Hmm…
I decide that I'd like to see Nottingham Castle. If it was good enough for Robin Hood to steal for, then it's good enough for me! Unfortunately, the castle doesn't actually exist anymore and it's basically a house on a hill. Oh, so it's like Bruce Castle? The 'castle' part is just a name? I was disappointed. And it's full of hideous sculptures, scary paintings, and a cabinet full of silverware that looked like the one my grandmother has in her front room. The view is fantastic though and would have been better if we could have stood of the roof of the 'castle'. And Andy's sudden fascination with a squirrel had us (well, him) chasing it round the park for the best part of twenty minutes. It was incredibly cold though and we headed back into town and darted in and out of shops to keep warm. The city centre was really crowded, full of people trying to get last minute Christmas presents, and it got dark really quickly so I had to start heading off for home.
I eventually left about 5pm and got home about 7.30pm. Apparently, my sister had told my father that I was staying round a mate's and didn't divulge any specifics. About 9pm, Dad was about to go out and just said, "By the way, where did you go?"
"Uhm, Nottingham?"
"That's a long drive for a weekend."
"Yeah."
And that was it. Mind you, if he found out it was a male friend, I would have got the third degree. Sometimes, it's best if parents just don't know!
I decide that I'd like to see Nottingham Castle. If it was good enough for Robin Hood to steal for, then it's good enough for me! Unfortunately, the castle doesn't actually exist anymore and it's basically a house on a hill. Oh, so it's like Bruce Castle? The 'castle' part is just a name? I was disappointed. And it's full of hideous sculptures, scary paintings, and a cabinet full of silverware that looked like the one my grandmother has in her front room. The view is fantastic though and would have been better if we could have stood of the roof of the 'castle'. And Andy's sudden fascination with a squirrel had us (well, him) chasing it round the park for the best part of twenty minutes. It was incredibly cold though and we headed back into town and darted in and out of shops to keep warm. The city centre was really crowded, full of people trying to get last minute Christmas presents, and it got dark really quickly so I had to start heading off for home.
I eventually left about 5pm and got home about 7.30pm. Apparently, my sister had told my father that I was staying round a mate's and didn't divulge any specifics. About 9pm, Dad was about to go out and just said, "By the way, where did you go?"
"Uhm, Nottingham?"
"That's a long drive for a weekend."
"Yeah."
And that was it. Mind you, if he found out it was a male friend, I would have got the third degree. Sometimes, it's best if parents just don't know!
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Tripping the Light Fantastic
I drove to Nottingham today to spend the weekend with Andrew. I didn't get up there until late thanks to an accident between junctions 8 and 9 on the M1, but it was enough time to get thoroughly lost in the city centre (no street name signs anywhere) and witness some pretty horrific driving skills. Anyway, it is advisable not to park on the streets so Andy managed to swipe a secure underground parking space from a work colleague. Once parked up, we head up to the flat. It's right in the city centre and it's ultra cool: balcony, good view, and not too noisy (for me, anyway!). Not keen on the whole design thing though, which includes a frosted glass bathroom door ("Are you sure you can't see in?!"), and a column in the middle of the kitchen area (obviously not there for decorative reasons).
We head downstairs and attack the buffet being held in the Chinese restaurant next door to the building. Apparently, the flat corridors only occasionally smell like take-out but it doesn't actually hit the flats themselves. The restaurant is full of people, mostly of Oriental ethnicity and we manage to swipe a decent table near the food counters. It's worth observing that people don't actually queue for things. They seem to form a queue but in reality, they're just chatting and are not actually in a queue per se. The flip-side is that people generally will not queue when they should. London this ain't!
Eating completed, we head out and stop in a bar which is not all crowded, plays music at a decent level and has v classy décor. We settle into comfy leather chairs and consume two rounds before the music becomes unbearably loud and we decide to move on to a club. Oh, but before we did, I took a trip to the bathroom and met Wonder Woman. Okay, it was a girl dressed up in a Wonder Woman costume, but it was really cool! I told her that I loved her outfit and she laughed and said that she actually wanted a Xena one but this was the closest she could get.
While waiting outside one club (before going into another one instead!) I noticed that there were a lot of people walking around in fancy dress garb – mostly Santa-related outfits, angels, fairies, and comic book characters – and it surprised me. London clubs, you see, are generally pretty fashion conscious and I wouldn't dream of walking into a London club without looking short of fabulous. Here, anything goes and I think it's brilliant! I now feel a little more confident about going to a NYE fancy dress club I've been roped (read 'guilt-tripped') into going to.
So, first club of the night: Long Island Club. The club is on two floors but they play the same music throughout the entire club. The basement consists of bathrooms and a coat check. The music is mainly chart hits of the pop genre so it was okay for about an hour or so. I've now consumed three rounds of JD & coke, and Andy's not sure if he's getting doubles or not… In any case, when we start to salsa to the music and I get spun, the room spins at twice the rate in the opposite direction. I also start to giggle at everything, including the guy at the bar who tries to look cool by tossing glasses behind his back and promptly drops the lot. These are usually signs of stopping. So I grab a diet Pepsi. Then we decide to go elsewhere because what I really love dancing to is rhythm 'n' blues/ drum 'n' bass.
We skip the heavy D 'n' B club and hit Faces, an R 'n' B club, which also stands on two floors, but the upper floor is really a standing area. The music is better in here and the club seems to attract professional dancers, or at least people who can dance extremely well. I have another two JD/cokes. And then my brain feels like its being squeezed. I find the bathroom to try and grab a breather in non-smoky air and witness two girls simultaneously throwing up. Suddenly, the air isn't so fresh in there… So I go out again and we go upstairs where it's a bit cooler and slightly less smoky.
I think I started phasing at this point. This is where the night kind of goes blurry. I generally can't clearly remember events during which I phase, which is anything from five minutes to half an hour. After that I start to sober up, unless I continue drinking, which is generally a bad idea! I do remember walking back without shoes on, and I do remember sobering up whilst still awake, which is a slow and painful experience. I also remember having to play 'Guess the artist' as Andy plays with his iPod and I manage to name a ton of people he doesn't own music for, including Blink 182, Green Day, Squeeze, Franz Ferdinand, The Beatles (!), Snow Patrol and Hoobastank. He did have a Keane track though and I managed to guess all he played except Tubular Bells (the Exorcist theme is Tubular Bells II) and the Prodigy, who I dislike at the best of times. I think sleep came into the equation at about 4am!
We head downstairs and attack the buffet being held in the Chinese restaurant next door to the building. Apparently, the flat corridors only occasionally smell like take-out but it doesn't actually hit the flats themselves. The restaurant is full of people, mostly of Oriental ethnicity and we manage to swipe a decent table near the food counters. It's worth observing that people don't actually queue for things. They seem to form a queue but in reality, they're just chatting and are not actually in a queue per se. The flip-side is that people generally will not queue when they should. London this ain't!
Eating completed, we head out and stop in a bar which is not all crowded, plays music at a decent level and has v classy décor. We settle into comfy leather chairs and consume two rounds before the music becomes unbearably loud and we decide to move on to a club. Oh, but before we did, I took a trip to the bathroom and met Wonder Woman. Okay, it was a girl dressed up in a Wonder Woman costume, but it was really cool! I told her that I loved her outfit and she laughed and said that she actually wanted a Xena one but this was the closest she could get.
While waiting outside one club (before going into another one instead!) I noticed that there were a lot of people walking around in fancy dress garb – mostly Santa-related outfits, angels, fairies, and comic book characters – and it surprised me. London clubs, you see, are generally pretty fashion conscious and I wouldn't dream of walking into a London club without looking short of fabulous. Here, anything goes and I think it's brilliant! I now feel a little more confident about going to a NYE fancy dress club I've been roped (read 'guilt-tripped') into going to.
So, first club of the night: Long Island Club. The club is on two floors but they play the same music throughout the entire club. The basement consists of bathrooms and a coat check. The music is mainly chart hits of the pop genre so it was okay for about an hour or so. I've now consumed three rounds of JD & coke, and Andy's not sure if he's getting doubles or not… In any case, when we start to salsa to the music and I get spun, the room spins at twice the rate in the opposite direction. I also start to giggle at everything, including the guy at the bar who tries to look cool by tossing glasses behind his back and promptly drops the lot. These are usually signs of stopping. So I grab a diet Pepsi. Then we decide to go elsewhere because what I really love dancing to is rhythm 'n' blues/ drum 'n' bass.
We skip the heavy D 'n' B club and hit Faces, an R 'n' B club, which also stands on two floors, but the upper floor is really a standing area. The music is better in here and the club seems to attract professional dancers, or at least people who can dance extremely well. I have another two JD/cokes. And then my brain feels like its being squeezed. I find the bathroom to try and grab a breather in non-smoky air and witness two girls simultaneously throwing up. Suddenly, the air isn't so fresh in there… So I go out again and we go upstairs where it's a bit cooler and slightly less smoky.
I think I started phasing at this point. This is where the night kind of goes blurry. I generally can't clearly remember events during which I phase, which is anything from five minutes to half an hour. After that I start to sober up, unless I continue drinking, which is generally a bad idea! I do remember walking back without shoes on, and I do remember sobering up whilst still awake, which is a slow and painful experience. I also remember having to play 'Guess the artist' as Andy plays with his iPod and I manage to name a ton of people he doesn't own music for, including Blink 182, Green Day, Squeeze, Franz Ferdinand, The Beatles (!), Snow Patrol and Hoobastank. He did have a Keane track though and I managed to guess all he played except Tubular Bells (the Exorcist theme is Tubular Bells II) and the Prodigy, who I dislike at the best of times. I think sleep came into the equation at about 4am!
Friday, December 17, 2004
Christmas continues
My new boss' generosity continues… He walked around the office this morning and placed on each desk a bottle of wine with a Christmas card attached to it. It's good stuff too. I was touched.
No work was done today though. Friday afternoons end at 2pm for most of the officers and there was a get-together planned for the evening from about 4pm. People started to drift into the office from about 11am, hanging about and generally chatting until it was time to leave. Most people pushed off at lunchtime, leaving the office as quiet as a morgue for the entire afternoon. The phones hardly rang. It was creepy. I declined from going to the drink-up. By the time I've battled through the traffic to Wood Green and parked up in the multi, it'd be very crowded there and I'd never be able to get to the bar for people. Besides, I wouldn't be able to drink because I have the car, so the whole process is rather a waste of time. I've been to my office do; I don't need to go to the Corporate one.
No work was done today though. Friday afternoons end at 2pm for most of the officers and there was a get-together planned for the evening from about 4pm. People started to drift into the office from about 11am, hanging about and generally chatting until it was time to leave. Most people pushed off at lunchtime, leaving the office as quiet as a morgue for the entire afternoon. The phones hardly rang. It was creepy. I declined from going to the drink-up. By the time I've battled through the traffic to Wood Green and parked up in the multi, it'd be very crowded there and I'd never be able to get to the bar for people. Besides, I wouldn't be able to drink because I have the car, so the whole process is rather a waste of time. I've been to my office do; I don't need to go to the Corporate one.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Tax refund
I got a tax refund from Inland Revenue, a lovely gift at any time. Not as much as Anna got last month but enough to treat myself to a little something… £23. It's because tax is reduced on the first pay cheque you receive in a new job and it wasn't taken into account. Still, it's £23 I thought I didn't have!
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Cake, anyone?
The new boss of Specialist Works bought cakes in. I think it's supposed to be in lieu of it being Christmas and a season of goodwill, etc, but it may be more of a bribe to make us more accepting of him. Not that I'm complaining. Free Danish pastry? Woohoo!!
Monday, December 13, 2004
Induction
As a new (!) member of staff I have to go on the Corporate Induction course. Not that I remembered. I walked into work, took off my coat, and flipped through the office diary to update the whiteboard. There, in my handwriting, said 'Clare - Induction all day'. Bugger. I grab my coat and start to leave.
"What's wrong?" asked Christine.
"I'm supposed to be at Induction in half an hour."
"Where?"
Hmm, good point. I frantically search through my folder for the memo. Civic Centre. I have to get to Wood Green in 30 mins during morning rush hour. This is not good.
20 mins later, I'm at the junction of the High Road and Lordship Lane and haven't a clue where to park. The front of the Civic is full and the rear car park is by swipe card and pin only. All the neighbouring streets are residential parking only or a maximum two-hour wait. I've been trawling the streets for a parking space for 15 mins before I decide I'm screwed and I have no choice but to park in the multi-storey for £5.
I park up and practically run to the Civic, and arrive in the Chambers flustered and 30 mins late. I make my apologies to one of the ODL people and am informed that the course has just started. Phew. I take a seat next to Nicky and the introductions begin. We are briefed on structure, planning and current goals. The Chief Executive then talked for about an hour and was a bit boring. The Mayoress then spoke for about 15 mins and didn't seem to breathe at any point, she was talking so fast. We are bundled on a coach for a tour of the Borough, during which the Mayoress continued to natter as we made our way up through Ally Pally, round Muswell Hill Broadway, down the border of Haringey and Camden, and then round so we went up Tottenham High Road and stopped at Bruce Castle Museum.
Bruce Castle Museum is very much like Forty Hall. It's a listed building with a few old paintings and some mad occupants and is regarded as a local antiquity. We had lunch and then a obligatory tour of the Museum. The tour guide was very enthusiastic about his work which I could empathise with, being interested in local history and all, but everyone else just looked bored. I have to admit, it was rather like a school trip. The view from the clock tower was very cool and the building is pretty, a mixture of Elizabethan, Georgian and Victorian architecture (is that the right order?), where blocks were renovated, extended and added throughout the years. Tour finished, we had another briefing, this time on equalities, and we finally wrapped up about 4pm.
We coached back to Wood Green and I drove Nicky home. We had a good natter and decided that we need to see each other more often! Once home, I'm all ready to collapse. Roll on tomorrow!
"What's wrong?" asked Christine.
"I'm supposed to be at Induction in half an hour."
"Where?"
Hmm, good point. I frantically search through my folder for the memo. Civic Centre. I have to get to Wood Green in 30 mins during morning rush hour. This is not good.
20 mins later, I'm at the junction of the High Road and Lordship Lane and haven't a clue where to park. The front of the Civic is full and the rear car park is by swipe card and pin only. All the neighbouring streets are residential parking only or a maximum two-hour wait. I've been trawling the streets for a parking space for 15 mins before I decide I'm screwed and I have no choice but to park in the multi-storey for £5.
I park up and practically run to the Civic, and arrive in the Chambers flustered and 30 mins late. I make my apologies to one of the ODL people and am informed that the course has just started. Phew. I take a seat next to Nicky and the introductions begin. We are briefed on structure, planning and current goals. The Chief Executive then talked for about an hour and was a bit boring. The Mayoress then spoke for about 15 mins and didn't seem to breathe at any point, she was talking so fast. We are bundled on a coach for a tour of the Borough, during which the Mayoress continued to natter as we made our way up through Ally Pally, round Muswell Hill Broadway, down the border of Haringey and Camden, and then round so we went up Tottenham High Road and stopped at Bruce Castle Museum.
Bruce Castle Museum is very much like Forty Hall. It's a listed building with a few old paintings and some mad occupants and is regarded as a local antiquity. We had lunch and then a obligatory tour of the Museum. The tour guide was very enthusiastic about his work which I could empathise with, being interested in local history and all, but everyone else just looked bored. I have to admit, it was rather like a school trip. The view from the clock tower was very cool and the building is pretty, a mixture of Elizabethan, Georgian and Victorian architecture (is that the right order?), where blocks were renovated, extended and added throughout the years. Tour finished, we had another briefing, this time on equalities, and we finally wrapped up about 4pm.
We coached back to Wood Green and I drove Nicky home. We had a good natter and decided that we need to see each other more often! Once home, I'm all ready to collapse. Roll on tomorrow!
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Nearly...
I've just spent the entire weekend unpacking the boxes that have been occupying the living room for the past seven months. Anna informed me that we've been living without a proper kitchen since 3rd June. That's a long time. But we're determined not to eat Christmas lunch off our laps so unpacking commenced. All that is left to do is the flooring so all the cupboards can be used.
Dad is away for the weekend so we can work without feeling hassled or rushed. Chris went to a mate's on Saturday (and I had to pick up him and his friend), a party in the evening, and then to work on Sunday, so he didn't help at all (as per usual).
Boxes were unpacked and I spent ages trying to scrub off the black that had been left on everything from where it had been wrapped in newspaper for seven months. Items were then dried by Anna and Heather, and stored away by Rosemary. It was a good working team. And the living room has enough space for a Christmas tree now. It's all go.
Dad is away for the weekend so we can work without feeling hassled or rushed. Chris went to a mate's on Saturday (and I had to pick up him and his friend), a party in the evening, and then to work on Sunday, so he didn't help at all (as per usual).
Boxes were unpacked and I spent ages trying to scrub off the black that had been left on everything from where it had been wrapped in newspaper for seven months. Items were then dried by Anna and Heather, and stored away by Rosemary. It was a good working team. And the living room has enough space for a Christmas tree now. It's all go.
Friday, December 10, 2004
Christmas Dinners
I can safely say that no work was done today. At all. We are booked to have Christmas dinner at the Navigation Inn at 1.30pm, but colleagues start drifting into the office from about 10.30am, chatting, laughing, generally hanging around until everyone is ready to leave. I left with Noel about 1pm, because he wants to drink and so is leaving the car locked up in the depot. We depart with a convoy of vehicles behind the car, because the directions of "Take the main road and turn right on the Chingford roundabout" was too complicated for those who never drive outside of the borough.
Once we're there, some people have already arrived and are attacking the bar. I have a diet Pepsi and amble to the tables set up along the far wall. I want to sit on a good table! Funnily enough, we sat in our usual 'groups'. There was something I think Joel Schumacher said, about how people seem to keep to their 'groups' even when they don't mean to. We had the managers and surveyors on one table, and the administrators, purchasing officer, and the DA/DPC people on another; basically, the 'professionals' and the 'lay people'. Unintentionally split.
Anyway, we munched through four courses, during which I had half a glass of white wine because I still have to drive home. As coffee was distributed, some people broke off to go back to the bar, and the rest of us bunched together and had a good chin-wag. I left quite early (3.45pm) and drove home, showered, and then went out again and drove to Bow.
Linda and Pamela had invited myself, Mina and Laura to theirs for a pre-Christmas get-together. It was fun and we got to play with Pam's daughter, Daniella, who is still incredibly tiny. She fell asleep holding my finger and I had to prise her hand off so I could leave. It was kind of cool to get to hold her though. Mina did the whole baby-talk thing, which I don't really get on with. Maybe if I was older and had no shame I might... :)
Linda is seven months pregnant and is showing lots more than Pam did. I think she might be having a boy. Linda doesn't want to know what gender her baby is until it's born. When we asked why she didn't want to know, she said, "I'd like to have at least one surprise when it's born." Other than, "Oh my God, a baby?! How did that happen?" I presume...
Once we're there, some people have already arrived and are attacking the bar. I have a diet Pepsi and amble to the tables set up along the far wall. I want to sit on a good table! Funnily enough, we sat in our usual 'groups'. There was something I think Joel Schumacher said, about how people seem to keep to their 'groups' even when they don't mean to. We had the managers and surveyors on one table, and the administrators, purchasing officer, and the DA/DPC people on another; basically, the 'professionals' and the 'lay people'. Unintentionally split.
Anyway, we munched through four courses, during which I had half a glass of white wine because I still have to drive home. As coffee was distributed, some people broke off to go back to the bar, and the rest of us bunched together and had a good chin-wag. I left quite early (3.45pm) and drove home, showered, and then went out again and drove to Bow.
Linda and Pamela had invited myself, Mina and Laura to theirs for a pre-Christmas get-together. It was fun and we got to play with Pam's daughter, Daniella, who is still incredibly tiny. She fell asleep holding my finger and I had to prise her hand off so I could leave. It was kind of cool to get to hold her though. Mina did the whole baby-talk thing, which I don't really get on with. Maybe if I was older and had no shame I might... :)
Linda is seven months pregnant and is showing lots more than Pam did. I think she might be having a boy. Linda doesn't want to know what gender her baby is until it's born. When we asked why she didn't want to know, she said, "I'd like to have at least one surprise when it's born." Other than, "Oh my God, a baby?! How did that happen?" I presume...
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Christmas at Work
Today I was finally nagged into decorating the office for Christmas. I don't mind, actually, but I do have work to do...! However, work was quickly left in favour of collecting the boxes from the stores and starting to make the office look festive, when a batch of mobile phone bills were plonked on my desk. Yep, they can wait!!
So I set up the fake tree and put baubles all over it, mending the thread loops as I went along. Colleagues made comments as they passed the tree on the way to the reception/ water-cooler/ photocopier, etc but most of it was patronising ("That is simply lovely, Clare" etc etc). The receptionist helped untangle the lights because only yesterday I was walking all over her desk putting up her decorations - even standing on the desk she couldn't reach the ceiling. Of course, I got all the usual "Are you sure you need the stool to reach the ceiling?" jokes. Yawn! Lights went up by the office entrance doors and some hanging decs went over the tea 'n' coffee area. Tinsel was wrapped around certain colleagues' PC monitors (the ones who specifically said they didn't want it - heheheh!!) and the remainders were wrapped around the supporting columns.
It all looks really nifty... and took all afternoon. Well, 1pm to 4.30pm, which is a pretty long time really. Just have to make sure I get all my work done before the office luncheon tomorrow...
So I set up the fake tree and put baubles all over it, mending the thread loops as I went along. Colleagues made comments as they passed the tree on the way to the reception/ water-cooler/ photocopier, etc but most of it was patronising ("That is simply lovely, Clare" etc etc). The receptionist helped untangle the lights because only yesterday I was walking all over her desk putting up her decorations - even standing on the desk she couldn't reach the ceiling. Of course, I got all the usual "Are you sure you need the stool to reach the ceiling?" jokes. Yawn! Lights went up by the office entrance doors and some hanging decs went over the tea 'n' coffee area. Tinsel was wrapped around certain colleagues' PC monitors (the ones who specifically said they didn't want it - heheheh!!) and the remainders were wrapped around the supporting columns.
It all looks really nifty... and took all afternoon. Well, 1pm to 4.30pm, which is a pretty long time really. Just have to make sure I get all my work done before the office luncheon tomorrow...
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Candlemaking Clare
I decided that I was going to make some of my friends candles for Christmas, in addition to presents that I have already bought them. I've been playing around with the idea for some time and, since the post-Nano blues kicked in, I'm trying to keep myself busy. Candlemaking is a long process and perfect for this type of depression.
So I dig out my brand new ball mould that I bought at a candle supply shop in Covent Garden before it closed down. It's in two halves so, instead of tipping the candle out when it has set, you just unlock the two halves of the mould and break it out that way. I put the two halves together, thread the wick, and seal it. I melt the wax, mix in the stearic acid, and start to slowly pour the mixture into the mould. Anna sets a mat and kitchen paper underneath to catch any drips. We don't want the new kitchen surface damaged. The mixture nearly reaches the top and Anna says, "It's dripping a bit."
I can see a thin line of wax seeping through the side of the mould. "It shouldn't be," I comment. "The mould was watertight when I tested it."
Suddenly, liquid wax starts seeping out at an alarming rate and I lift the mat so I can hold it over the melting bowl. The wax gushes out and I throw it across the cooker, away from me and Anna so we don't get burnt. But there was wax all over the place: over the side, over the cooker, over the grate... Anna looks at me and I ask her if she's okay. Wax burns are not pretty. She says she's fine and then looks at the molten wax, now solidifying over everything.
"Dad's gonna kill you," she says. Great.
I start scrubbing at the grate and cooker top with a wire mesh, and then take an old cloth and rub the wax into the surface, treating it like a polish. After scraping off most of the excess, the drips of wax melted into the side and cooker top, so no injuries there. I then take the remains of the mould and scrape off the now-solid wax from inside and out. I try to put it back together again, but it's not happening.
"Why did it leak?" Anna asks.
"Dunno," I reply, "but it's not going back together."
"The wax must have been too hot and it has warped the mould."
I finally forced the mould together and, after 'fessing up to Dad, he suggested placing the mould in ice water and then letting the wax cool off before pouring it in. When I pour cool wax into an ice-cold mould, it should set quicker and not warp again. Take two, tomorrow! For now, I have my old tested and trusted moulds hard at work in the kitchen. One's plain white and gonna be decorated with beads. One is really tall and gonna be blocks of colour. The third is all one colour and is being mixed with glitter. It's all go. I might try out an ice candle tomorrow if I'm going to be working with ice. They look like fun to make...
So I dig out my brand new ball mould that I bought at a candle supply shop in Covent Garden before it closed down. It's in two halves so, instead of tipping the candle out when it has set, you just unlock the two halves of the mould and break it out that way. I put the two halves together, thread the wick, and seal it. I melt the wax, mix in the stearic acid, and start to slowly pour the mixture into the mould. Anna sets a mat and kitchen paper underneath to catch any drips. We don't want the new kitchen surface damaged. The mixture nearly reaches the top and Anna says, "It's dripping a bit."
I can see a thin line of wax seeping through the side of the mould. "It shouldn't be," I comment. "The mould was watertight when I tested it."
Suddenly, liquid wax starts seeping out at an alarming rate and I lift the mat so I can hold it over the melting bowl. The wax gushes out and I throw it across the cooker, away from me and Anna so we don't get burnt. But there was wax all over the place: over the side, over the cooker, over the grate... Anna looks at me and I ask her if she's okay. Wax burns are not pretty. She says she's fine and then looks at the molten wax, now solidifying over everything.
"Dad's gonna kill you," she says. Great.
I start scrubbing at the grate and cooker top with a wire mesh, and then take an old cloth and rub the wax into the surface, treating it like a polish. After scraping off most of the excess, the drips of wax melted into the side and cooker top, so no injuries there. I then take the remains of the mould and scrape off the now-solid wax from inside and out. I try to put it back together again, but it's not happening.
"Why did it leak?" Anna asks.
"Dunno," I reply, "but it's not going back together."
"The wax must have been too hot and it has warped the mould."
I finally forced the mould together and, after 'fessing up to Dad, he suggested placing the mould in ice water and then letting the wax cool off before pouring it in. When I pour cool wax into an ice-cold mould, it should set quicker and not warp again. Take two, tomorrow! For now, I have my old tested and trusted moulds hard at work in the kitchen. One's plain white and gonna be decorated with beads. One is really tall and gonna be blocks of colour. The third is all one colour and is being mixed with glitter. It's all go. I might try out an ice candle tomorrow if I'm going to be working with ice. They look like fun to make...
Friday, December 03, 2004
Shopping, Alternate Universes and Bridget Jones
So I have a day off work today, purely to go Christmas shopping. Yes, rather early you may think, but here's the deal: some people started thier shopping when Woolworths put up their Christmas decorations during the 2nd week of October. October is way too early for me. I usually shop the 2nd Friday of December but I have Christmas lunch with the office that day and I start seeing my friends for Christmas celebrations on that same day. So, today is the day.
I have already decided to go to Brent Cross instead of Bluewater, my usual Christmas haunt, since it now has the same shops after being revamped and has a generally nicer atmosphere. Plus its nearer, which about says it all when you wake up in the morning and find thick fog hanging around. I had full headlights on and couldn't see more than 300 yards ahead.
But I had been alerted of a new chain of shops opening across the country: Hobbycraft. It sounds geeky but they are the only non-business suppliers of candlemaking equipment within 50 miles of London and I have to satisfy my hobbying urges! So I have to trek to Watford first. Okay, fine. I can do this.
I get in the car and shoot up the M25 to Watford. Off the motorway, on to the roundabout and... There are three roads. One for North Watford, one for Watford town centre, and one for South Watford. Each direction is Watford. I'm in the Watford Alternate Universe. Scary. I know I don't want the town centre, because that's basically the Harlequin, a down-and-out shopping centre for chavs. So its North or South. I plump for South after three circuits of the roundabout. Down a little road, through a small town and following an incredibly large articulated lorry, I finally reach a retail outlet and discover Hobbycraft. Cool. But all they sell is parrafin wax and stearic acid. No moulds, dye sticks, wicks, moulding sealant, tiled blocks, scents... I was sorely disappointed. It was a good store if you want to furnish a dolls house or make your own Christmas cards, but candlemaking? Uh uh!! Apparently I need a bigger store. The search continues...
I buy 2kg of parrafin wax and stearic acid and leg it to Brent Cross. And I manage to buy presents for everyone, even my brother, who is so difficult to buy for on a budget, when all he wants is expensive music equipment and accessories. Shopping done, I relax in a sunken area on the ground floor which has been converted into a Starbucks (isn't everywhere?). I sip on my usual grande white mocha, coated with chocolate and vanilla, and make sure I haven't missed anyone off my list.
On the table next to me, a young man looking oh-so-much like Ralph Fiennes (I kid you not!) is playing with a new video phone. He's fiddling with the buttons and searching frantically through a tiny instruction manual. I try not to pay too much attention. He is then joined by a young woman and a girl of about four. She kneels on her chair and eats packets of brown sugar. She starts to sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' very softly. I notice her parents are now filming her with the phone. The mother's going, "Sing up, sweetie, so everyone can hear," and the girl obliges. The proud parents look about them, making sure everyone is looking at their kid, and grinning at anyone who so much as glances. It was cringingly embarrassing. I don't like parents who act like their child is the best child that ever lived.
Finaly got home about 5.30pm and Anna fancied going to the cinema. So we went along to the UCG and watched Bridget Jones 2. Not as funny as the first one, except the fight between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant. This fight was loads funnier. Watching Hugh being chased around a fountain was hysterical! But I didn't like Colin as much in this one. He was more of a pompous git with a snooker cue up his arse. And Hugh seemed loads nicer, not so oily as before. Sure, he hadn't learned the error of his ways, but he seemed nicer on the whole. And the whole Thailand prison thing seemed like a last-minute idea because they hadn't enough material to fill up two hours. It reeked too much of that box office flop Brokedown Palace. I saw it coming a mile off. Maybe, because Brokedown Palace was such a bad film, the film-makers hoped that none of the audience had actually seen it and it was perfectly acceptable to steal the entire film's storyline and shove it into Bridget Jones 2.
I have already decided to go to Brent Cross instead of Bluewater, my usual Christmas haunt, since it now has the same shops after being revamped and has a generally nicer atmosphere. Plus its nearer, which about says it all when you wake up in the morning and find thick fog hanging around. I had full headlights on and couldn't see more than 300 yards ahead.
But I had been alerted of a new chain of shops opening across the country: Hobbycraft. It sounds geeky but they are the only non-business suppliers of candlemaking equipment within 50 miles of London and I have to satisfy my hobbying urges! So I have to trek to Watford first. Okay, fine. I can do this.
I get in the car and shoot up the M25 to Watford. Off the motorway, on to the roundabout and... There are three roads. One for North Watford, one for Watford town centre, and one for South Watford. Each direction is Watford. I'm in the Watford Alternate Universe. Scary. I know I don't want the town centre, because that's basically the Harlequin, a down-and-out shopping centre for chavs. So its North or South. I plump for South after three circuits of the roundabout. Down a little road, through a small town and following an incredibly large articulated lorry, I finally reach a retail outlet and discover Hobbycraft. Cool. But all they sell is parrafin wax and stearic acid. No moulds, dye sticks, wicks, moulding sealant, tiled blocks, scents... I was sorely disappointed. It was a good store if you want to furnish a dolls house or make your own Christmas cards, but candlemaking? Uh uh!! Apparently I need a bigger store. The search continues...
I buy 2kg of parrafin wax and stearic acid and leg it to Brent Cross. And I manage to buy presents for everyone, even my brother, who is so difficult to buy for on a budget, when all he wants is expensive music equipment and accessories. Shopping done, I relax in a sunken area on the ground floor which has been converted into a Starbucks (isn't everywhere?). I sip on my usual grande white mocha, coated with chocolate and vanilla, and make sure I haven't missed anyone off my list.
On the table next to me, a young man looking oh-so-much like Ralph Fiennes (I kid you not!) is playing with a new video phone. He's fiddling with the buttons and searching frantically through a tiny instruction manual. I try not to pay too much attention. He is then joined by a young woman and a girl of about four. She kneels on her chair and eats packets of brown sugar. She starts to sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' very softly. I notice her parents are now filming her with the phone. The mother's going, "Sing up, sweetie, so everyone can hear," and the girl obliges. The proud parents look about them, making sure everyone is looking at their kid, and grinning at anyone who so much as glances. It was cringingly embarrassing. I don't like parents who act like their child is the best child that ever lived.
Finaly got home about 5.30pm and Anna fancied going to the cinema. So we went along to the UCG and watched Bridget Jones 2. Not as funny as the first one, except the fight between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant. This fight was loads funnier. Watching Hugh being chased around a fountain was hysterical! But I didn't like Colin as much in this one. He was more of a pompous git with a snooker cue up his arse. And Hugh seemed loads nicer, not so oily as before. Sure, he hadn't learned the error of his ways, but he seemed nicer on the whole. And the whole Thailand prison thing seemed like a last-minute idea because they hadn't enough material to fill up two hours. It reeked too much of that box office flop Brokedown Palace. I saw it coming a mile off. Maybe, because Brokedown Palace was such a bad film, the film-makers hoped that none of the audience had actually seen it and it was perfectly acceptable to steal the entire film's storyline and shove it into Bridget Jones 2.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Post-NaNo Blues
So I think I have post-NaNo blues. I get home and think, "What can I do tonight?" The TV porgrammes I watch are repeats of Buffy, The X-Files, Friends... Boring after a while. Yet I don't want to start the re-write, which would be a good idea because the novel is still fresh in my mind. It's too tempting to just delete whole paragraphs at the moment.
I just don't know what to do with myself in the evenings any more. I asked Anna for her advice. "How about going to sleep at a decent time?" Hmm. Not quite the response I was looking for. But then I have been going to sleep at 2am most mornings during November. She does have a point...
Answers on a postcard!
I just don't know what to do with myself in the evenings any more. I asked Anna for her advice. "How about going to sleep at a decent time?" Hmm. Not quite the response I was looking for. But then I have been going to sleep at 2am most mornings during November. She does have a point...
Answers on a postcard!
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
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