I ain't no Bridget Jones...

another suitcase in another hall...

...and to be honest, the hall is pretty crowded now. Mum and dad kindly brought more suitcases down so I could decide which one to take, but the 20k baggage allowance is a killer, even in a lightweight container! DO THEY NOT KNOW how many clothes I have? I even bought a new dress yesterday morning because I was stumbling round TopShop at 10am drunk, having just been paid. Major error - not a good combo. It's my new "I'm off to Dubai tomorrow so I really really need a nice dress" dress. It's red. Oh and I was drunk in TopShop at 10am because I was up till 4 drinking with my pal G and my brother, having danced and sobbed the night away with most of lastminute.com in a local pub and our most favourite shit-hole, the Roxy. And then I passed out at G's house where I woke up on the wrong side of sober, round the corner from Oxford Street.

Anyway, it's almost 6am and I've been awake since 3, ugh. I had a really nice caesar salad at "the last supper" in the Fat Cat round the corner, but now my mouth feels weird and I think it might be a chewing gum day. But yeah, I think there are just too many things in my head and they're mostly mundane things like making sure my council tax is definitely cancelled and remembering to pack my toothbrush. But it's been hard because Wednesday night was mad anyway and I must have cried on far too many shoulders. The team got me a fab iPod station and an album full of photos that they've commented all over - it's seriously awesome. I can't take it straight away because there's no room but Dad's going to ship it over. Oh, I also got Lee Mead's autograph which I was slightly more excited about than the iPod station, but don't tell anyone. I'm cool.

So, the flight leaves at 10.30pm and I'm meeting Tracy at Heathrow at 7ish, I guess. I can't believe the day has arrived and I'm sitting here surrounded by the remnants of my London life crammed into binbags and Lucy's gonna wake up soon so I'll have to say goodbye. Urgh. Awful. I'm not very good with goodbyes - I think work was slightly miffed that I didn't cry until my emotions had been inebriated with 5 shots of whiskey but you know... I like to be happy. I like to stay strong. Because if I don't, I'll just think too much about the hell I'm doing and why I'm leaving all these fabulous people. This is my last blog from the UK - the next one I'll be writing from Dubai - how weird!

Wish me luck - I'm gonna try and get a few more minute's kip or the flight tonight will be HELL!

a final protest...

At least we did something fun this morning - so I'm not going away feeling totally miserable. We rallied around outside 10 Downing Street as Tony Blair came out and actually got quite bollocked by the anti-war protestors, whose ground we were apparently "advertising" on. Well I guess some might not agreee with a travel and lifestlye company shouting about wanting a FOUR DAY WEEK, when there's a war going on in Iraq but quite frankly someone's got to throw something a little light-hearted into the equation.

leaving the building...

After two fab years here it's my last afternoon,... God it feels so weird! I can't really put a finger on what I'm feeling but I have this funny tightness in my tummy and I don't think it's coming from the pub lunch we just had. The last supper, if you will. It's been such a great journey here, I've made some amazing friends. I wouldn't even call some of them "work" friends anymore, really. They're just friends now.

I remember on my first day when Verity, Dan and Sonia took me to the Monk for a cold sandwich that was supposed to be hot, and extended the warm lastminute.com embrace to a girl who was, quite frankly, rather scared of being flung into what was essentially a giant marketing machine full of strangers, in what looked like a massive call centre. As soon as I walked into the office I took one look around and thought, Jesus, this is no New York. I thought for sure that I'd marry my mate for the greencard and head straight back to the Apple as soon as I could but to be honest, something happened in those first few months and I felt accepted and worthy, and necessary, in a way that I never did in New York. Work was so much fun, and I loved every second, and I decided to stick around. And yeah my feet never really stopped itching but to stay two years wasn't a struggle at all. And it's really hard to leave right now.

I remember dad telling me when I was a kid: "if you can make your money doing a job you love to do, you'll never have to work a day in your life." I'm sure he didn't make that up himself, (although he's very wise). But I think it's true - I have been lucky here. And sure we all moan about things like how much money we're not being paid, and how many promotions we're not getting, but quite frankly I've never woken up and wished I didn't have to go to work, and for that I suppose I'm very grateful. It's reeeeeally hard to leave right now. I think there will probably be a few tears later,... and I'm quite scared about the prospect of making a speech. I have no idea what to say.

Maybe I'll just send this blog link round instead.

he's hardly Jaws...

...but H just sent this rather alarming photo of a shark in the Palm Jumeirah. I think that's the exclusive part out near the beach - the one they dredged the land up from the sea to create? I think that's where all the rich people live, so clearly I won't be setting up home anywhere near his guarded territory, and apparently he's just a harmless whale shark who lost his way but still, I'm not too happy about the fact that there are sharks living ANYWHERE in my vicinity, whatever breed they are.  They still breed nightmares.  I was planning some serious banana boat action out there quite frankly, and we've all seen that bit in Jaws where he bites a massive chunk off the end of an inflatable, including a fair amount of some poor woman's leg. *gulp* 

Also quite scary is how fake those buildings look in the background. It looks like a model village or something, doesn't it. Like you'd expect some Arabic Postman Pat to waddle his animated way along the path delivering plasticine letters to little stiff people.  In fact, I half expect a massive cat's paw to poke out from this photo and start prodding that teeny, weeny shark, before whipping it out of the water and eating it for breakfast. I've heard some people say that Dubai can seem a little fake and "surreal", which could probably be interesting to explore, but I don't really want to live in a plasticine house surrounded by sharks, no matter how nice it looks in the photos. *double gulp*

bagels, byes and bunny burps....

This time next week I'll be sitting at my brand new desk in Dubai. Well, unless I'm on the loo, or at the printer, or boozing away an extended lunch break, although it might be a bit too soon for the latter.

My leaving do was fab on Saturday night - loads of my lovely friends came to say Dubai-bye which was nice, and even though it pissed it down we managed to get a spot outside the Vibe Bar underneath the canvas, and there was something quite cool about the rain crashing down around us as we drank and Andy amazed us with his magic tricks. (I have to say that because if I say they were shit he'll get angry - aaaw they weren't shit - mostly). I wished "the boy" could have been there, but we spoke on the phone and he said he would have come if I'd asked. Hmmm.... I'm sure I did ask, last weekend in Barcelona, but maybe he didn't think I was serious. Or forgot. Oh well. He did send me the nicest text message that anyone has EVER sent me, which made me smile. I want him to work in Dubai now!

Oh, I got some lovely cards and pressies too, including a hot vintage bikini from Anna, whoo hoooooooooooo!  The bro got pretty bladdered, bless him, but it's all good for making friends... and of course, my final brick lane bagel was scrumptious too.  I needed to drink about 90 gallons of water throughout the night to compensate for the salt but it was worth it. I'll miss those beefy beauties.

Last night, after an entire day of sitting round in my PJ's, fending off a hangover whilst uploading photos onto facebook, Lucy took me out to the new Shoreditch House, as she's a member, the jammy swine! The place was amazing, and just what I needed to round up my last London weekend. It's right round the corner from our fave bar, The Redchurch, and it was soooo exclusive that Lucy said she kept thinking we were gonna get kicked out for looking like straggling blaggers. Seriously, on the top floor is an open air pool with massive loungers all around it, overlooking the London skyline (mostly cranes and the gherkin, but still, it's cool, alright?!) We had a half price glass of wine as Dermot O'leary chatted to our right and watched the men sweeping the rain away from the middle of the room and into the open fireplace. (Apparently, that part of the roof won't be arriving till August. Error)

At dinner, we sat at long, banquet type tables with a bottle of gorgeous red and ordered from the (half price) menu. I chose some kind of scallop affair that looked like a flattened jellyfish, or some dolphin puke, but tasted ok, followed by rabbit casserole. I don't think I'd ever had rabbit before that,.. well not that I can remember anyway, but it tasted a bit like chicken, only more tender. Still feel a bit bad for liking it though. Especially when I did a little bunny burp after finishing it all and suddenly had a terrible flashback to petting little Fiver - the rabbit I cared for as a child... until he froze in his hutch in that cruel, cruel Lincolnshire winter of 1996. (RIP)

David Walliams was there, on his own at first, waiting for some bird. He was in my direct eye line every time Lucy moved, and actually he's pretty fit for a bloke who's made a mint by dressing up as a "lady". I also saw Alex Zane when I was on the way back from the loo, but mostly it was just an average, family crowd, and a smattering of super cool media looking types - aka, long hair, scarves and tight trousers.

You know, the whole time I was in there, wearing my posh frock and feeling ever so slightly out of my league, I couldn't help but think that maybe, the majority of bars in Dubai are going to be like that. I'm definitely gonna have to wean myself off my skinny jeans...

beautiful bling...

Ever since I spotted this classy lady on the Easyjet flight to Barcelona, I've wanted to adorn my very own lobes with such beauties. I've always been quite a proud Scoprio and what better way to express my astrological devotion than to pimp my head in this manner? She must be so proud. Although personally I never expected such a blatent show of self-loving from a Pisces. They're normally so humble.

Anyway, you'll be pleased to know I've tracked these earrings down, and I've found some to honor my very own star sign. I plan to wear them proudly, with my hair tied up in a luminous green ruffle that matches my favourite tracksuit top, so the world's men can know how compatible they might be when stood in my Scorpio presence. If they work correctly they'll send my soulmates flocking, who are, apparently Pisces, Cancer and fellow Scorps. Although I clearly feel a strange magnet-like pull towards Libras, who have only ever done me wrong. But we'll see what happens.

Hopefully if I buy them on pay-day they'll arrive before I go to Dubai. And how cool would my new colleagues think I was if I rolled in wearing these on my first day??? Instant friends I tell you. Instant friends.

at least I'm not at Glastonbury...

That looks miserable to say the least. I knew there was a reason I wasn't too arsed about not getting a ticket, or why I've never actually been to a big festival like that. I don't really like any kind of music or band enough to squish myself up against a shit-load of strangers in rain-macs, or wade through fields of mud to a tent that may or may not actually be there when I reach it. Why these people don't just buy a few new albums, a couple of crates of beer and smoke a joint in their own dry living rooms is beyond me. Oh maybe I'm just in a bad mood.

I met up with "man in the mirror" on Wednesday and we went to our usual steak place in Clapham, where he was a little too happy about his recent welly boot purchase, (he even modelled them at one point). I think he said they were £7.99 from ASDA and he nabbed the last pair, just as another Glastonbury-bound boot seeker was about to go in for the kill. It seems the world's gone crazy. ASDA for blokes in festival season sounds a bit like Primark for girls on opening morning. He's there now, no doubt modelling his bargain boots with pride, but me, I'm just grateful to have saved £100 and to have a clean toilet when I need it.

SOME GOOD THINGS:

• I sold my telly and DVD within an hour of putting it on gumtree. A cool £70 towards my "extravagent Dubai lifestyle on mere pence" fund. Sweet! It only cost me £100 in the first place - ssssssh.

• The bro found a new house to live in - hurrah! He's been looking for ages (and cluttering up my floor), and we all know how hard it can be to find a decent place to live in London that isn't rented by crack-whores or swarming with insects from every orifice. It seems his new pad, just on the outer edge of zone 2, is filled with lovely people and impending good times. Which is a relief. I was half thinking we'd have to clear out the medical room here in the office for him.

• H, my new friend in Dubai, tells me there's a hottie starting in the office at the end of July - a tall man of foreign descent. Yippee for eye-candy! She also says we have some reviews to do for swanky hotels in the UAE - it seems I won't be losing all my perks as much as gaining more luxurious ones. It's going to be quality, not quantity out there, I reckon.

SOME BAD THINGS:

• I do keep bursting into tears at sporadic intervals, one minute laughing and the next realising once more how this happiness - that derives from everything and everyone around me - is about to come to an abrupt end, thanks to my very own choosing. ERROR! I'm sure it'll only get worse next week, but having been out for four nights running on the booze and saying byes, it's the tiredness that's making it difficult already. Plus, I really miss my "holiday boy" which is probably a dangerous emotion to play with and a silly thing to think about at this stage in the whirlwind, but he struck a chord in me, somehow, which few people do, or have done lately, at least.

• I just discovered my lunchbox in my desk drawer. Which is nice, only there's a piece of grey vegetation in there, currently evolving its own eco-system. I thought the prospect of cleaning my flat was daunting - but opening that stinky fucker is a whole other ball game...

Coming home and coming down - viva espana...

I'm absolutely knackered... still... and I've been home for two days now!  Thanks to a million thoughts about leaving racing around my aching skull, I feel a bit like a headless chicken. But wow, what an amazing weekend in Barcelona! I've been dying to write about it. I know I went there last year with the girls and we saw all the sights, perused Gaudi's impressive erections (ahem), sipped Sangria and dodged sexed-up Spaniards in favour of dancing round our handbags, but this time.... man, this time I feel like I saw a different side of it; a slice of the real city, perhaps?

But it was weird too - really weird. I mean, it was my penultimate weekend in Europe, the second-to-last Saturday I could have spent in London, or with my family, but I spent that precious time on a weekend away with my work colleagues! Had I spent the last two years in association with any other group of "work people" I suppose that would have seemed stupid, and perhaps a tad sad?  But then, these "work people" have become my friends and they've changed my life. And if it wasn't for them, or the confidence they've given me, the continuous encouragement to follow my dreams, sometimes without even knowing that's what they've done,... without all that, I wouldn't have taken this next, scary step into the unknown. I wouldn't have even got this job in Dubai,... probably.

I guess what dawned on me this weekend, aside from what an awesome city Barcelona is, was actually how much I'm going to miss these people. It dawned on me, maybe even brighter than before... how much of an adventure London has really been. As much as I've moaned and seemed like I've taken it all for granted, I haven't really, you know. I haven't. I do appreciate it, all of it: how lucky I've been, to land a job with such incredible people, to make and keep such fabulous friends in what has been at times, a very scary city. And to have this opportunity now, I'm grateful and ecstatic, but I'm terrifed too, of losing eveything I've found, simply because I don't quite feel as though I've found it all.

On the Thursday night we went to a restaurant overlooking the sea and hundreds of boats in the harbour. It was gorgeous - Posit Maritime, I believe it was called!  Anyway, the wine flowed freely as the sun set over the water and we talked to the European teams, who we'd flown there to meet in the first place (it WAS for work, you cynics!) Anyway... we had ridiculous amounts of white wine and I had a bit of a wobbly moment behind my £2 Primark sunglasses. Well,... you know, everyone was laughing and chatting about work and life and the future and for the first time since I joined the company, I didn't really have anything to contribute. And because everything and everyone was so nice, I suddenly felt stupid for wanting to leave, for wanting something more,... ugh. Weird. I can't really explain it sometimes. I feel like I'm stuck in-between two very different worlds. And I don't belong in either of them because I'm walking away from one that I absolutely love and entering another that I know absolutely nothing about!  And, well... I know that it's my choice to walk away but suddenly I feel as though I'm slightly mad to just let it go.

Anyway, this weekend was also great because I had one of those once-in-a-lifetime encounters with a boy - oooh er. Well, I think it was once in a lifetime because I don't think I've ever really had one like it before and it was sort of like the Heathcliff and Cathy thing I've been reading about, only, swap the windy Yorkshire moors for a sandy beach and the disgruntled housekeeper/kitchen combo for a group of cheery employees in a Spanish chain restaurant called ARS. I kid you not. There's a chain in Barcelona called ARS. Oh, believe me, it led to more than one bent-over-double-as-I-strive-to-control-my-bladder-moment.

Right....the boy. Well, obviously we got to hang out a lot, and we got to talk, and we got to know each other, and actually, by the end of the trip... after we'd seen the sights from the top of a rain-blasted tour bus, marvelled at Gaudi's architecture, been eaten by sandflies on the grounds of a beach-based disco party as the sun came up, swam in the Med in our clothes and suffered mild insanity and sporadic fits of laughter through lack of sleep... after all that, when we hugged goodbye... I had to fight another bout of tears from behind my £2 Primark shades. Why must I meet someone I actually like, NOW? He doesn't even live in London anyway, and I'm leaving, but still,... why now?

God I'm such a hopeless romantic. He probably thought I was a right tit, after I found far more amusement in the ARS restaurant than most people and could hardly control my bladder upon noticing some giant vegetables stuck to our hotel doors as means of decoration. Those Spaniards... they sure do like their vegetables. (Although sadly, they weren't scratch and sniff, as Darren first thought.)  But hey, we must have had something in common besides both being inebriated on cheap Spanish wine and Sangria the whole time. We talked until the sun came up two nights out of three, in the open air, and probably could have talked more. But then, I guess there's always gonna be a lot to talk about to someone you just might never see again. Maybe you end up saying more, letting your guard down, opening your heart because you know they can never really hurt you? Who knows... whatever it was, it was nice. (sigh)

So now I'm home, exhausted, with a thousand photos to wade through - not all of them ones I'd keep for the grandkids either. It's funny how I needed to get away from here completely for everything to sink in properly. I really am leaving, I really am changing my life and I don't even know what exactly is waiting for me in the Middle East!  I did quite randomly meet a very rich Indian man at a party in Barcelona however, who owns a yachting business in Dubai. He and his PA, Zack, bought me several flaming sambuccas and he's since sent me numerous texts from his luxury pad in Jumeirah. He is, apparently, quite looking forward to partying with me when I get there...

GO GO GO JOSEPH, you know what they say...

Thought I'd put this on here too, as we've been following the series. So sad I'm going to miss the show. I wonder if they'll move it to Dubai???

Having been gripped by the BBC battle that had my friends and I clutching the arms of the sofa and spilling ridiculous amounts of red wine on white soft furnishings for the past few months, it was a pleasure to finally speak to the man who emerged triumphant. Granted, I had to wait about three days to catch Lee Mead. As his PA called me up for the twentieth time and explained that he’d just been dragged in another direction by another film crew, I was beginning to think I’d never get to tell Lee, phone to phone, how it was my vote that pushed him over the finish line – (although clearly the 7 million people who’ve been rooting for him had a say, too).

It’s all been Go-Go-Go for our new Joseph, so how’s the West End’s latest steak-eating sex symbol dealing with it all?

“Well it’s all a bit mad really, I’m rehearsing 10-7pm and I have to fit the gym in too….” (That’s for the loin-cloth, ladies).  “On the Sunday after the final, I recorded the pop video for the single which was amazing - all a bit surreal - and I’ve just gone straight into rehearsals with the cast.”

The single is a recording of Any Dream Will Do, with the B side a version of Close Every Door featuring all three finalists. What’s it like to have a single out within a week of winning the show?

“It’s great, and all the proceeds are going to Children in Need so it’s just nice to be able to do this for charity. I’ve done some charity recording before, back in college, but Any Dream Will Do is at number 18 in the charts already through downloads, and went on sale in the shops yesterday.  I don’t know what I’ll do if it makes number one!”

Throw a big party perhaps? Although there’s probably no time for that these days. Tell us more about the rehearsals – how are you working to become the next Joseph in such a short space of time?

“Yeah it’s not long – the first preview is the 6th of July and then we open on the 17th!  We’ve all been learning the score for a few months though, so now it’s just really learning the stage directions and trying to put a stamp on the role. I’ve played lead roles before, Chris in Miss Saigon and Raoul in Phantom, but I was the understudy, so it was always like I had to give the role back – it was never really mine. Now, playing Joseph I can figure out little ways to make it my own. It takes time to find your feet. I just saw the theatre too, yesterday. They’re building the sets at the moment. There’s going to be a huge story book that opens out - it looks amazing actually!”

Read the rest here

clothing poles...

The boot sale last weekend was an interesting affair. I hadn't realised quite how many Polish people have moved to my lowly town back in Lincolnshire, and standing in a field behind what was once a local garden centre for local people, I sort of felt as though I was handing out clothes to the homeless somewhere in Eastern Europe.

It's worrying isn't it - when you find the things you always took for granted are changing behind the scenes, without you knowing... when you realise that the place that always sheltered you and welcomed you is now as foreign to you as looking out the window of the night bus after falling asleep pissed, and waking up at 5am somewhere near the airport.

It's not that I've got anything against them all moving in and taking all the jobs, places in schools, doctors and dentists... it's just slightly weird to hear so many accents and funny looks in the places that I used to recognise as mine. To be honest, it was quite freaky selling them all my clothes at 50p an item and knowing full well that within 24 hours my entire old wardrobe would be parading about town on the backs of Polish pre-teens. Is that racisim? Would I be booted out of Big Brother, or a god-forsaken lesser society for saying such things out loud? I'm not sure. I just think it's quite sad, and weird.

Anyway, Saturday night at home was great because of course, Lee won Joesph. HURRAH! I voted for him and his voice rang out "thanks for voting for me". I think it was my vote that did it. It was gonna be that awful Teeth/Keith if I hadn't picked up the phone, so thank God I did. (Phew) I am supposed to be interviewing him on Saturday from Barcelona, where we're flying tomorrow for a conference. Of course, the conference is highly important* and lasts all day Friday, but clearly we'll be drinking away the rest of the weekend somewhere by the beach and I'll get the chance to test my Dubai wardrobe.

Unless the poles come along and try to buy it all for 50p.

* = VERY DULL