I ain't no Bridget Jones...

waxing on...

I've tried pinching my nose and breathing out. I've tried swallowing a thousand times in quick succession. I've even tried doing a handstand up against my wall, which I probably shouldn't have done. It used to be so easy in the school playground - I didn't even notice my dress falling round my face and the boys pointing and staring at my Woolworths knickers. But now all I notice is the resonation of my upper-arm flab and a pounding headache. And my ears are still bloody blocked!

I got some ear-drops,... minging they are! Otex. It drips out thick, yellow and gloopy, kind of like earwax itself. And it doesn't even work. That floatation tank session wasn't so great after all, was it? Almost 72 hours later and I'm still deaf. Darren here keeps coming over and miming to the left of me, just as I used to do to poor nan. I thumped him one, the Kiwi swine, but he simply smiled and walked away with perfect hearing ability. Oh, how I envy the hearing. What a wonderful, joyous, musical symphony of a world they exist in. What a harmonious heaven their eardrums admit - a thousand sounds they take for granted that I no longer know. Oh woe is me, sweet hearing must you leave me?? I feel like my head is a faulty pair of speakers that function only in mono.

I went to the walk in NHS clinic at lunch time. It's only round the corner. A very nice man-doc called Nigel told me I had a wax build up and pobably some trapped fluid behind my "eustachion tube". I told him it wasn't just fluid,... it was special floation tank fluid, condensed with 700lbs of Epsom salts to enable full floatation ability. He said I'd probably need a syringe. He also drew me a diagram to explain what's stuck where, although Dan said his ear canal scribbling looks like a mushroom and it's obvious why he's a doctor and not an artist. I kind of think he might be a creative doctor though. He told me that to loosen the build up before the syringe on Friday I should continue with my ear drops and "blow through my pinched nose at least 20 times a day".

Good to know what I pay my national health insurance for, isn't it?

feelin' hot hot hot

My flights have been confirmed, so I guess I'm really going to Dubai, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK. Off into the sunshine, check out that weather! Slightly warmer than here - we had to put the heating on in the flat last night it was so bloody cold, brrr. It's exactly one month today that Tracy and I fly, courtesy of Qatar Airlines and a stop in Doha. Not a long enough stop to explore really, just half an hour, but it's a night flight so hopefully won't be too painful.

Bring it on! I am really needing a change lately. Today is particularly shite, on a work front. Although I am increasingly sad to be leaving my friends. Again. New York was hard enough but now I'm off to the friggin desert!

floaty light...

So I finally did something constructive with my bank holiday weekend, aside from scrubbing my kitchen and bathroom floors until my arms ached. OH YES - I cleaned!!!  No,... aside from that, Sara and I went to 'floatworks' and used the vouchers we were given for Christmas. It was about time.

Basically it's a floatation tank experience - a 45 minute slot in a big plastic podule that looks like something Mulder might have discovered when investigating a government conspiracy somewhere beneath the Navajo desert in the X Files. It's filled with 700lbs of salt, which means that when you step inside (completely starkers, mind) you just float.  Well, not straight away. Obviously it's not so strong that it takes one foot and lets you hover upright on the water Jesus style, but once you're on your back, legs and arms in a star shape, the lid comes down like a sealer on a tupperware lunch box and you float. Just like that.

Of course, there was the obligatory pan pipe music for the first 10 minutes, for relaxation purposes. I never was too sure about that, though. You know the type, you hear it in those weird hippy book shops, usually accompanied by the smell of incense and a knowing smile from a bloke with a beard so long he could actually carpet the shop with it if he wasn't so stoned that he couldn't even move. Hmmmm. Yeah, to me it's always carried somewhat creepy connotations, perhaps because I equate it with a bunch of hippy shit I don't really understand. But anyway, before I could imagine the witches and warlocks and talking cats on broomsticks it faded, the lights went out, and I drifted deep into an almost dream-like state, feeling my mind wander far away from the stresses of London. (And cats on broomsticks).

It was bloody brilliant actually - and definitely a well-deserved, relaxing end to a hectic weekend of... well,... doing fuck all, really. One minor annoyance however is the fact that I can't really hear anymore. Yeah, my left ear has taken it upon itself to clog up completely thanks to the salt water, and no amount of shaking my head or pinching my nose and breathing out is unblocking it. I'd like to say it's a refreshing change, shutting myself off for a while.  But sitting up in bed, where I'm so accustomed to the sirens and general East End screams as I drift off to sleep, not to hear it is almost unnerving. I hope it clears up tomorrow - thanks to some major bank holiday downloading I have a lot of ace new music on my iPod to listen to at work!

blank holiday...

That's right, blank! The only thing I've done of note this bank holiday so far, in fact, is go to the cinema, just now. Si and I watched 28 Weeks Later and MY GOD, I was freaked coming out. We went to the one in West India Quay, which is of course Canary Wharf, where the bloody (literally) film was shot! YOIKES. It was actually a really great film, much better than I was expecting. Gory gory gory though. I'll be sleeping with the light on tonight.

But seriously,... what the f*** is up with this weather? Puts me in such a miserable mood. I just don't want to do anything. Denise came over yesterday and we drank some PImms just for the hell of it, before heading out to the festival in Victoria Park, which was a pretty miserable affair in the end. People were just ramming themselves into two huge tents trying to escape the rain as the carousel span round totally empty and the kids screamed their impatient desires to go home. No amount of sodden candy floss could appease them as the skies closed in and soaked into their clothing and in the end it was far more appealing to walk straight through to the pub and get a pint of Leffe each. We just sat and chatted for a bit before coming back to the flat and cooking a pizza, then falling asleep on our respective sofas. Rock and roll!

I was meant to go to the beach party in Trafalgar Square tonight, but hardly anyone else wanted to go in the end, I assume because they were all so narked off with the rain too. Hmph. Well, it wouldn't have been much fun would it, trundling out of the house in wedges, a mini skirt and a bikini top. Even if they were importing a shed load of sand and deckchairs for an indoor party. Oh, you can blow up as many fake palm trees as you like, we all KNOW it's still pissing it down outside.

Still, never mind. I'm aware the nipple freezing days are about to end. Apparently it was 41 degrees in Dubai today. I'm not sure if that excites me or just petrifies me. Having been bundled up in layers for so long I'm not sure my pasty British body will adapt so quickly to a life in the sun. I'll probably shrivel up in minutes. Right now though, I really don't care!

Actually, when Bank Holidays are so miserable, I'd rather be at work. At least it offers something constructive to fill the damp and dreary hours as the clock slowly ticks towards summer...

go go jetsons...

It's pretty unlikely I'll ever get onto the property ladder in London, seeing as a one bedroomed flat off a council estate in my preferred area (Bethnal Green) costs the best part of £230,000. And they hardly ever have pools in their rooftops either. NOT LIKE THIS PLACE!

Mum and I were just looking into the possibility of buying a property in Dubai... you know, just for the hell of it. Well, it passes some time. And look at this! It's not even built yet but for a third of the price of a London shit-hole, you can live like a friggin' Jetson over there!  The whole building's wireless, there's a gym, and of course, a sky-pool. A SKY POOL!?!?!  What the f*&^%^&*!!>!k!

Imagine coming home from work - "hi honey, it's been a long day. I'm just nipping up to the roof with a glass of wine, to stare out of the panoramic windows from the swimming pool. Come up in an hour and we can watch the sunset?"

all that glitters...

I'm not sure if I should be impressed or just ALARMED by this fine, sparkling example of Arabian craftsmanship.

I found it when scrolling through photos of Dubai's finest shopping establishments. This exquisite garment can apparently be purchased in Dubai's, or indeed the world's only 7* hotel - the Burg Al Arab. That's the big one that sits on the water shaped like a giant sail?  It's such a posh hotel that if you're not staying there, you have to pay to enter, apparently. Although clearly once you're inside you can shop like a Queen. Or.... drag queen?

I'm taking orders now,folks.  Don't forget to tell me what size you need your pure gold cardigan's in. I'm assuming if you ask for a size 36 the price will go up.

Hmmm, if there's ever been an incentive for girls to be size 0, it surely has to be this little beauty.

(Click to enlarge it. Oh go on, you know you want to.)

cutting a few ties...

This is sooo weird, I'm sitting here at work and I think it's just hit me that I'm actually leaving, haha! I knew it would happen eventually, but only really because in the space of an hour I just gave final notice on the flat, Homechoice/Tiscali and cancelled my Cinema unlimited card as of June 25th (gulp).

I think we're flying over on the 29th, which means we'll have a weekend before starting work, and I don't leave here till the 27th. So, basically... I have 4 days between leaving this job in London, and starting a new one in Dubai. Oh, and the working week out there is Sunday to Thursday. How strange will that be, working on a Sunday? I've not done that since I was a student and even then it was only when I could be arsed to lift my lazy butt off the couch/out of the pub/bed, to earn the measly £4.20 an hour in whichever job I'd managed to hold down for longer than a month. Imagine knowing you had to go in, and that you couldn't just skip to the next McDonalds along the street and smile nicely till they handed you another uniform?

Breathe. Nope, it's all cool. It's all good. No really, I'm fine. It's just an adventure, right? Cancelling all my direct debits doesn't mean I'm cutting my life off,... I'm just starting a new chapter! YES!!! Just feels so weird cutting ties like this. I've gotta cancel my house insurance, BT and my mobile phone next. And clear out my room and my desk drawers. And Lucy is looking at other flats to live in, WITHOUT ME.

It's all come around so quickly and my diary for June is filling up fast already. Although, July is blank because god knows where I'll be, who I'll be meeting for drinks, which hotel I'll be eating in, which beach I'll be lounging on. Apparently it's 44 degrees out there today. It's 26 here and that's pretty hot, I can't imagine what 44 would feel like. Can't you fry an egg on the pavement at that temperature?

SOMETHING EXCITING: Deputy H (a fellow recruit already out there) told me our new office will be close to a new development called Times Square, which is 15 minutes from the beach and an indoor ski slope, and will have shops and restaurants nearby. These photos look awesome.

SOMETHING DISTURBING: The area we're moving to, at the moment looks,... well....like we're arriving a few years too early, perhaps?

wuthering webber...

I awoke at about 4am this morning in a plush chamber of a room, decorated in burgandy and gold. I was wrapped in soft blankets on a four poster bed and as I opened my eyes and blinked furiously at the light, Andrew Lloyd Webber walked in and thanked me for doing the washing up. He promptly left my room, so I climbed out of bed and walked onto the landing where he was descending the stairs with a huge suitcase. Where are you going granddad I asked? "I'm off to LA with Tim, we're casting the new musical today" he replied. At which point, I noticed Tim Rice at the bottom of the winding staircase, holding an equally sized suitcase and waving at me in my night-gown, the obvious granddaughter of his oldest pal.

As I promised to look after the house in his absence I was distracted by the somewhat unattractive face of a girl called Catherine, running across the Yorkshire Moors - the moors that had quite clearly just appeared in Andrew Lloyd Webber's house. I stood outside, feeling the wind rush across my face as I thought "Ah, she's not as pretty as I imagined her in my head, they really should have got a prettier actress to play her part," but then Heathcliffe came crashing past me, sweeping ugly-Cathy up in his arms and kissing her atop a blustery hill.

When I awoke for a second time, this time in the REAL WORLD, I was mildly confused as to why I would dream of such things. I can only conclude that my mysterious night visitations come from my unsettling, almost obsessive involvement with the TV show Joseph mixed with the continuous typing of Lloyd Webber's name in my theatre-based newsletter. So deep is my involvement that he has almost become a relative, perhaps??  I am also 5 chapters into the novel Wuthering Heights, which I have decided to finally try and read - such a romantic am I. It's clearly affecting me more than I thought...

is that your final answer?

I'm sorry, I know this is old news but this thing with Chris Tarrant throwing knives in a curry hut? HILARIOUS. It just keeps getting funnier. I just checked the net again for facts (before I make light of it in a public newsletter and lend cause for further humiliation, of course) and The Sun brought up this picture of the bloke who was attacked. I mean LOOK at him. He just screams "I was asking for it!"

He even goes on to prove that his twat-factor's set on high by spilling: “I wasn’t drunk. I’d had four pints of cider, an alcopop and me and Nina shared a bottle of wine with the meal.”

Hmmm... well perhaps Nina likes it when her bald-headed belligerent boyfriend is 'soberly' slugging the Hooch and Diamond White, slurring sweet-nothings into her bleach blonde hair before whisking her off for a sexy Balti,... but Chris, who's probably had people shouting "wanna phone a friend, wanna go 50/50 on the bill, wanna ask the audience" at him in every restaurant, on every street corner, in every crapper in the land for the past ten years, probably found him a little less endearing.

Chris was accused of lobbing a knife at him, although the spoon in question insists it was another spoon that caused the damage. I've never really been a fan of the man since the whole palava with his wife, but still, if I was Chris and had spent the last decade listening to every twat in the country hurl my own catchphrases at me every second of every day, forget the limited cutlery collection. I'd have taken a machine gun to someone by now.

Cutty Sark on fire!!!

What's happening lately? Last week it was a WWII bomb and now, 7 days later, the Cutty Sark is on fire. How sad, how tragic, how depressing! As if Monday's aren't awful enough, without these mysterious and shocking events unfolding before us. Mark here works in Greenwich and he's not at work yet, unsurpirsingly. Maybe he's watching it burn. God, how said. I remember walking around that ship a few years ago and imagining I was a pirate aboard it. Of course, I got the dates all wrong because I'm an idiot when it comes to history. The Cutty Sark left London on its first voyage on February 16 1870, sailing around the Cape of Good Hope to Shanghai three months later. And it made only eight voyages to China in the tea trade. But still, I'd have liked to have been a pirate on the Cutty Sark.

A man on the news said "The ship has been through many things in its lifetime. It has sailed the oceans of the world, it has battled with nature through its life... This is going to make us even more determined to get this ship back up and running and keep her as original as possible."

Let's hope so.