Changes afoot

I will soon be leaving the sunny climes of Elephant and Castle, heading for the somewhat different Bromley. This is going to as much of a culture shock as moving to Elephant was when I arrived here five years ago from the Home Counties. While I will miss Elephant, my landlord is moving on and I am taking the opportunity to move nearer work and thus rid myself of the half hour twice daily commute.

On a similar subject, I am going to be updating this blog more often, but with shorter (more pertinent? possibly) entries. It may also undergo some cosmetic changes. You have been warned.

Meanwhile I am casting my bread upon the waters - or rather waiting to find out if any of the rooms I have emailed about are a) still available b) if available - are they ok? c) or do potential new flatmates just not want me? Images of Shallow Grave go through my head...

Merry Christmas

I love Christmas. I like buying people presents. There is something exciting about trying to match a person to a gift and vice versa. Somehow I can't imagine being one of those people who ends up panic buying on Christmas Eve and getting everyone something grotty from the local garage. Gifts don't have to be expensive, they just have to mean something. At the moment I'm listening to Christmas music on the radio, I've been writing cards and I've wrapped presents. I love Christmas songs, but I have friends who, at a party the other day, ran out of the room rather than hear any Christmas music. That's it though, I don't have a problem with Christmas - from Cliff's Mistletoe and Wine to O Holy Night, from Last Christmas to O Come All Ye Faithful, it is fantastic, especially when you consider that the whole thing started with one baby in a manger in Bethlehem - and that gets forgotten too often in the rush for presents, partying, if X Factor will be no. 1, if the turkey is big enough and the 101 other things that people worry about at Christmas.

So enjoy the run up to Christmas, and if you can, go to a church and just stop for a moment. Amid the rush and bustle, have a look at the nativity scene, and just remember that all of this is because of that small child.

If you can, go to a service. If you can't, just remember that small child. He certainly remembers you

Merry Christmas.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

I like the idea of winter. Cold days curled up by the fire, looking out at the snow. Huddled in warm gloves and thick wool coats against the frosty air. However that is assuming that you can actually tell what the temperature is going to be.

At present I end up layering myself until I look like the Michelin man (or woman) then finally reach the outside world - after almost rolling downstairs as the many layers make me so wide that actually being able to see my feet enough to walk down the stairs is a physical feat too far - only to find that the weather is actually springlike. Not that I am complaining. I would just like to know where I stand, as I am aware that if I don't wear the layers, by the time I reach my office which is in the neighbouring county, I could be experiencing freezing fog and might regret not wearing those thermal longjohns.

Surely if December - February are technically winter then they should be guaranteed maximum and minimum temperatures. They should only be permitted certain types of weather, and no rain should be allowed during the day. In fact come to think of it, that there should be a no rain rule for all seasons apart from Autumn - mists and mellow fruitfulness? Hah! Anyway at least we would then know exactly where we were with the weather and would be able to go out bundled up, to throw our scarves round the (lack of) necks of the snowmen we have made and catch colds if we want to. After all it is our right. This is what the British winter is meant to be - it shows it on all the Christmas cards. Show me a Christmas card that has grey pavements and rain? No?

Christmas is snow. Despite not, within my admittedly faulty memory, ever experiencing a white one, I am hoping to this year :)

Wet, wet, wet

London in the dark and the rain has something rather special about it. Rain shining like diamonds on the black of the tarmac. Shop lights reflecting madly in the puddles.


Special that is unless you are out in it trying to get to - well, anywhere. In which case it is an obstacle course for the unwary. An uneven paving stone here will give you an unexpected footbath. Refreshing but rather unpleasant. The umbrellas that suddenly sprout from the well prepared Londoner's hand will just be waiting their chance to jab at your eye, or failing that, any unprotected part of your body (and later, should you find a seat on a train, you are likely to find that some inconsiderate so-and-so has rested their sodden umbrella on the seat previously and you only become aware of this as your rear descends into the warm wetness that you vaguely remember from your nappy wearing days).


Taxis and buses take great delight in driving into the large puddles that form at the side of the kerb where yet another drain has blocked and a small river will shortly appear. Bus queues move as one trying to stay beneath the shelter but away from the splash.


Pedestrians wend a haphazard way between all these and wish for their own personal taxis. Bring back the sedan chair.

Puss in Boots

So I've been wandering round town today in the vain hope of purchasing a new pair of boots for winter that have the following fairly basic qualities:

a) waterproof
b) black
c) not excessively high heeled
d) not excessively thin heeled

Unfortunately I am so far unable to locate any that match my criteria. I didn't think I was being excessively fussy - let's face it, the waterproof bit is vital, especially when the sporadic rain we have here tends towards the torrential atm. I currently have a rather good umbrella which is proving to be rather effective at keeping my upper half dry. If my footwear is not providing the same service for my lower half then the whole thing is rather pointless really. There doesn’t seem a great deal of point in presenting a dry smartish upper if your knees and feet look like they have been wading through a river. If I buy boots with thin or high heels than I will bootless for most of the winter as the boots will be at the shop umpteen times being reheeled. Also if the boots were excessively high, I’d probably fall off them and break something.

So, back to the drawing board? Or is this a sign from on high that I have to go to Primark and buy those bright cerise fringed thigh high boots and wear them to work?

No, thought not.

Corpsing in Camden?

The sun was shining, the wind was cold, the crowds were good humoured...and a random woman tried to strangle me. I say strangle, I actually mean garrotte.

On a perfectly normal trip to Camden in search of suitable garb for a vampire prince (don't ask), we happened to be walking down the street as a rotund female American tourist happened to be walking past the other way. She had a rather weird handbag with a lot of overlapping metal hoops hanging from it, rather like fish scales. I remember noticing the sheer ugliness of the handbag and vaguely wondering why on earth anyone would buy something that looked like that as she walked past me. I went on walking and then I suddenly jerked backwards and couldn't breathe.

Apart from occasional extremely non-serious wheezing, easily relievable by my inhaler, I've never really been unable to breathe so it was a very odd sensation. The realisation that my inability to breathe was caused by my scarf was something of a relief. My scarf was wrapped so tightly round my neck that I couldn't get my finger between the scarf and my skin for a few long minutes (possibly just very long seconds). When I did, I started coughing and had to go and sit down and have something to drink so that I could swallow properly without wanting to retch.

What we think in retrospect had happened was that the end of my scarf had got trapped in one of the loops of her bag (or possibly the strap of her bag). However surely she noticed an extra X stone of me in addition to usual weight of her handbag? The only reaction we got was a distant 'sorry' floating back over the crowd.

I don't really think it was anyone's fault, but you would have thought that she would have stopped, even in London where the natives are notoriously unfriendly.

Both my brother and boyfriend say it was an accident (they say she hasn't earned her full fee - it was only payable on a completed assassination), but joking aside, I am left with a sore throat and am finding it hard to swallow.

Literally and metaphorically.

Song Associations

Just listening to the radio and I was instantly transported to the TOTP of my childhood (that's Top of the Pops, a TV show playing some of the top forty songs of the time for those of you who weren't born then/aren't UK based). Anyway when I just heard 'Martha's Harbour' by All About Eve it reminded me of the first time I saw it live in the TOTP studio - a very memorable experience, for all the wrong reasons.

Picture the scene. You are sitting watching your TV at, I believe, 7pm on a Thursday evening, and the camera pans to the next band. The music starts. The camera goes close up to the singer, whose voice you can hear singing. Her mouth isn't moving. You can hear the guitar playing. The guitarist isn't playing. The song progresses. The singer still isn't singing, she isn't attempting to mime, she is just perched on a stool in the middle of a sea of faces and looks slightly confused, occasionally turning her head from side to side scanning the studio.

In a later interview Julianne Regan apparently said that they couldn't actually hear the music and didn't know that the song had started.

It was the death knell for TOTP playing 'live' music. After that everyone assumed everything was mimed, even when it patently wasn't (i.e. was horribly flat).

All this reminiscence after a few minutes of a song heard on Radio Two just after 6 this morning

Oh and All About Eve went back and sang it again the next week, with people glued to the screen in case it happened again... I was one of them. It didn't.