just a bad day

I have been in an atrocious mood all day. My sympathies are with anyone who encountered my wrath today as most are likely to cry themselves to sleep.
It started with the issue of responsibilities during launch time and whether I should be handling certain aspects. After much debate it was decided that my workload should not be increased but I was left feeling a bit nose-out-of-joint that it had taken quite so much discussion to decide that my plate was full enough – do they not see how hard I work?!
Later a colleague asked me not to mention my approaching holiday as she had already taken hers and it was upsetting her to hear about it. I have not had a decent break in over 18 months while she has gone on about 3 week-long trips since I joined the team. Already a bit temperamental, I found this to be a dreadful injustice and hastily grabbed my coffee mug and huffed to the canteen where I took a voluntary time-out.
As my contempt for the world increased I began to ponder how my time seems to have become everyone else’s claim. This may seem selfish but I think it is just the result of too much activity and not enough rest. I seem to fight this urge to escape reality more often these days, as the expectation of social interaction weighs heavily on me.
Just to push me further, our delivery man made a special trip to my desk where he accused me of leaving boxes in his trolley – boxes which I had asked someone else to move yesterday. Clearly my request had fallen on deaf ears and today I was beyond the effort required to be polite. I subsequently turned to her and swallowed my fury to enquire why the boxes had not been moved but the fire in my eyes was too bright and she scurried off to the stationary cupboard before I could take the matter any further.
For the rest of the day I have sat at my desk willing the time to pass and considering how I am going to be perky enough to be pleasant company at a friend’s birthday tonight. At least I’ve come to realise that sometimes I’m human and I too, just have bad days. Unfortunately, petulance has no concept of bad timing.

green tea is all i have to offer

I discovered something fascinating today. If you drink green tea and then you drink water straight after it, the water tastes sweet. Really, it does!
Besides that, life is flowing rather smoothly so not much to report. Work is calming down, my flatmate is still away so evenings at home are really quiet. Last night I l had a bubble bath and then lay on my couch, cuddled under my duvet, half watching Supernanny but far more interested in the Time magazine I was devouring. I read it through from cover to cover and then discovered that I can MSN from my mobile thus delaying sleep further by chatting just for the novelty of it.
Tonight I’m catching up with Chels and having a little Italian (ie. ‘Italian food’ not actually indulging myself in an Italian person – I have a boyfriend!).
Doubtless, something exciting and newsworthy will present itself soon but for now my lilting sentiments of everyday life will have to suffice.
Come on, what are you waiting for? Go and try a cup of green tea rinsed down with water, it’s great.

devious bank gets no credit from me

A confessed shop-a-holic since the day I received my first real paycheck, I’ve finally had to admit that I haven’t been the most conscientious when it comes to my finances. However, in my defence, I have resolved to become money-savvy once and for all and after a few setbacks, am now on my way to financial wellbeing.
After a call from my bank today, I was faced with the harsh realities of a ruthless system whereby your bank tries to coax you into financial despair, otherwise known as debt. The benefit to them? You spend the rest of your life trying to free yourself from the hole you have dug and they earn about £1,000,000 interest from your irresponsibility!
I was telephoned by a lovely lady, called Wendy, who very thoughtfully offered me an unbelievably high personal loan and informed that their credit card is 0% interest on purchases for the next 9 months and was I interested?
Am I interested?? Of course I am! Do you know how many pairs of shoes I can buy with a limit like that? Palm trees and Pina Coladas flashed before my eyes as my dream of a year long holiday of island hopping flashed before me and suddenly became a possibility.
*pop* And just as quickly I was back to reality, sitting in the stairwell next to my office, fighting the urge to tell Wendy where to shove her generous offer and thus saving thousands of ignorant consumers from the lure of ‘free-money’.
My dear Wendy, do you know how easy it is to be fooled by money you don’t actually have? Unfortunately for you, I do!
So thank you for the offer and yes, I do know Christmas is just around the corner and that credit card would be very useful. But this girl learned the hard way and she’d rather dress up as Mother Claus and surround herself with elves and screaming children, in the middle of Debenhams, for the entire holiday period than flash your deceiving piece of plastic.
Have a good day. Goodbye.

stress not worth the hassle

This week has been so hectic at work. I’ve been leaving at 17:00 everyday with my stomach in knots and my blood pressure shooting to dangerously high levels. I remember the days when this sort of stress used to be my way of life but, as an adult, I’ve learned to just relax and take things a little more in my stride. Some may not believe me – they should have met me 6 years ago.
Spurring further anxiety has been the blasé attitude conveyed by those with whom I rely on to get my work carried out. I have one of those infuriating desk jobs whereby I get to click my mouse and then trust that whoever’s responsibility it is to action my request, cares as much about the job as I do. Clearly they don’t.
This week has reminded me how toxic stress is to my system: stomach cramps, indigestion, butterflies and breakouts. The task at hand seemed too much for my poor, overworked Vitamin B tablets as my stressing successfully counteracted every claim on the bottle’s label.
But Friday has arrived through a haze of irate phone-calls (I can be so tough when I want to!) and plenty of caffeine (note to self: chocolate and coffee are stress inducing, not reducing). I get to look forward to a 3-day weekend (thank you banks of England) spent in the company of my wonderful boyfriend and close friends, a day-trip to Canterbury, another to Legoland and sleep…....if there’s time..….no, I’ll MAKE time.

‘This thing called life (sometimes) I just can't handle it, this thing called life I must get round to it, I ain't ready...Crazy little thing called….LIFE’

health check

A few weeks ago, concerned by my steady decline in emotional stability, my Nans sent me a variety of vitamins. Before I ingested today’s recommended dosage I marveled at the similarity between my Vitamin Bs and Smarties. They’re both round, similar in size and have that glossy outer-coating. The difference, of course, lies in what is found on the inside. Smarties look appealing and taste great but I know that once they’ve been digested I don’t feel any better for having them. In fact I’m probably feeling a tad guilty, my sugar levels are at war with the rest of my body and my ass gets that little bit wider. Vitamins, on the other hand, have a foul taste if you don’t happen to swallow in the time it takes for the outer shell to dissolve. But the long-term effects are far more beneficial than the momentary pleasure that a Smartie has to offer. They boost metabolism, give me healthy skin, enhance my immune system and combat depression and the effects of stress.
While this was not the most profound insight I’ve ever experienced, it did remind me to look beneath the surface, resist momentary pleasure if it means long-term regret and get back into the habit of focusing on those things that are good for me.
Basically, take your vitamins.

choc horror

STOP OFFERING ME CHOCOLATE!!!
It's disturbing the number of times in a day that I have to resist the temptation of a bag of chocolates being shoved in my face by a colleague. The routine has now become rather annoying.

‘Chocolate?’ The bag is held before me volunteering Nestlé’s ‘best of’ minis.
‘No thanks’, I decline, politely.
‘You sure?’ they persevere.
‘No really. Take it away quickly.’ I start to doubt my decision.
‘Come on, just one’, they persist, unrelentingly.
‘Seriously, I still don’t want one, thank you’, I retort with gritted teeth, ready to grab the bag from their hands and toss it across the room.

The least you expect from those around you is a little support in the areas where you are weakest. Anyone who has known me for even a short while knows that the mouth-watering taste of chocolate is enough to convince me that the sky is in fact maroon. I love the stuff!
So PLEASE, fellow co-workers, stop trying to make me fat and tempting me with the stationary supplier freebie choccies. I have to fit into my bikini in 3 weeks!

domesto-rox banana bicarb blues

The mission: bake a banana loaf
Time set aside for task: make mixture before 7:30pm when Ian arrives and starts to torment me in the kitchen
Dilemma: no bicarbonate of soda!!!!

My enthusiasm at the thought of throwing together a quick banana loaf was quickly tainted by the realisation that I had failed to ensure all required ingredients were at hand. My ever-accommodating flatmate swiftly grabbed a measuring spoon and knocked on the neighbours door but, alas, it seems that they too fell a little far from the domestic tree. As a result, I was forced to dart, freshly bathed and fully clad in pj’s, with sodden hair, to the not-so-corner shop. Admittedly, my pajamas could double as beachwear, but still highly inappropriate for any London high street. So, I decided to venture to Roehampton where your attire is the least of your worries. Considering it used to be my local ‘hood’, I was surprised at how uncomfortable I felt as I hastened my steps towards the Sainsbury’s local. It’s likely I’m just overly cautious, but the place is just infested with hooded teens that look ready to grab your mobile and happy-slap you so as to meet their quota for the day.
As I scouted the aisles for bicarb, I became increasingly panicked when the baking shelves proffered every ingredient barr for the one I needed. Blast it all! Running towards the counter, I grabbed a box of light bulbs enroute just so that I didn’t leave empty-handed and totally defeated. As a final attempt at salvaging my domestic efforts, I queried the absence of bicarb with the cashier only to receive a blank look and an unconvincing smile, coupled with a slight shake of the head and a ‘Nnnoooo…’
Super! But, just as I was about to lose heart, the unacquainted assistant surprised me by suggesting that I try the Co-Op across the road.
My demeanour quickly lightened until realisation fell – I would have to cross over onto the dark side. Not once in the entire year that I lived in Roehampton did I ever cross over to ‘the other side of the Lane’. So I stood there and asked myself, ‘How far will I go for my banana loaf?’ But my culinary instincts are strong and if I had to delve into the depths of ‘the hood’ then that’s what I was going to do.
I ran, chuckling to myself about the whole ordeal as I went, bought the bicarb and crossed back onto the ‘safe’ side of the road as quickly as my one-brick-and-two-tickies-high legs would carry me.
After fetching my post from my old flat (I was now well in the area), I jumped back on to the bus and headed home ready to face the challenge of baking once again, this time fully armed with all necessary elements and a new-found determination that nothing was going to stop me from producing the best darn banana bread anyone had ever tasted. Okay, I’d settle for the best that anyone in my house had ever tasted, but it was going to be good!
Two hours later, Nicci, Craig, Ian and I enjoyed buttery slices of warm banana bread in the kitchen and I sat thinking that life is never going to be boring. If it were, I’d go bananas.

an ale for st arbucks in the clinker

To the soothing sounds of an Englishman performing ‘Fa la la la, it’s a lovely day…’, Ian, Bron, Rory and I enjoyed a guided pub walk, along the Thames, from Blackfriars to London Bridge on Wednesday. As we ventured out of the financial part of the city and along the Thames, I was pleased to be steered through parts of London that, previously, I had no idea existed. I’m not the greatest believer in ‘touristy’ activities but our animated guide’s enthusiasm kept me interested with his outbursts and stories about London while we traipsed from one pub to the next. I love living in a city that has so much history that it has been re-written time and time again. London Bridge area, as I discovered, hosts an abundance of offerings which include the Clink Prison Museum (back in the day you didn’t want to end up there), a replica of some famous old ship, Borough Market and my favourite, a coffee house dedicated to the patron saint of café lattes, St Arbucks (that was my favourite part of the tour!). Mostly, I learned a lot about beer. And I’m still unwavering in my opinion that it’s largely gross.

txt gdbye

due 2 unexplainable mobile err Lnite, evry txt msg either sent, archived, drafted or lying in inbox just vanish! just like that. 1 min dey there, next dey not.
4 those who no me, you no that am hopeless sap & tend 2 keep NEthing with hint of sentimental value (not 2 b confused with hoarder).
y, oh y, were my txt msgs taken from me in such ruthless manner? didnt even have chance 2 say gdbye.
had txts fr Xmas & b-day & fr start of Ian & my rltionshp & sum fr frnds who no longer live in LON but were big part of my life @ sum stage. used 2 sit on bus & when bored wld take little stroll down memory lane & reflect on msg fr past. often wld leave msg in inbox 2 remind me 2 catch up with ppl hadnt spoken 2 or contacted in while.
but now they gone. in few wks inbox b full again but some mems r irreplaceable & now b lost in cellular-space 4eva.

friday phone booth fun

How many wild South Africans can you fit into a London phone booth on a Friday night out? Clearly not 6, but we did anyway. I went home considering, again, how much I cherish my friends and how each one of them brings something so unique into my life.
You’ve got no choice but to love life when your friends are a bunch of nutters.

letter to sweety pie darling

In response to my post on 'becoming domestic' I receive this horrified response from my mother - bless her...

Well done, Sweetie Pie Darling!! (big exclamation!!!) You baked some banana-muffiny-thingie-wingies!! It's great and wonderful and all that but don't advertise it or people will conjure up this image of you barefoot, pregnant wearing a scary, brightly coloured floral apron (Oh! the saints preserve us!!) in the kitchen with hordes of sniffley-nosed-pooey-poo-poo-nappy children around you (Oh! horrors of horrors!!). What is to follow on from this... planting vegetables (pronounced Vegeetaabbllees!) in the back garden and getting (filthy, dirty, phoofey distgusting) earth under your beautiful manicured nails....eeeekkk? This must stop immediately, Sweetie Pie Darling. You have obviously become influenced by some evil, anti-feminist cult!!! Don't worry Sweetie Pie Darling....love you angel child.....Mummsy will organise the best therapist money can buy who will exorcize the "domestic demon" that has infiltrated your normal shop-at-M & S-for-cakes, pudding brain and you shall return to your normal, shop-shop-and-more-shop brain very soon. Throw the apron and the oven gloves away immediately! Mummsy is now most perturbed about the state of Sweetie Pie Darling' s mental health!!!
PS. Could you send Mummsy one of those banana-muffiny-thingy-wingies? It's been so long since I've got my teeth into any home baked goodies!
xxxx

Sorry Mom, they were so delicious they were eaten up in a couple of days. But if you will allow me to retrieve my apron, I will happily bake another batch. I know it's hard to chew but someone had to be the domestic pioneer. Love you, Mummsy. x

enough already

It’s raining and I’m not bothered because my hair is curly today anyway. The strawberries I just bought are a little over-ripe, but it only makes them sweeter. A colleague greeted me in his usual, too-happy-for-so-early, ‘good morning’ and just as I was about to let it irritate me I reminded myself that the world needs more happy people. There are many things that I hope for; many that I often get impatient about and question why I can’t just make it happen. But lately I’ve been prompted to just learn to be content with where I’m at. I read somewhere that “true contentment is wanting what you already have”. You see, when you spend so much of your time striving, you soon discover that you are never getting anywhere because you are never satisfied with your progress, no matter how big or small.
The search for perfection is never-ending because we live in such an imperfect world. I was shocked and utterly disappointed with humanity this week when I heard that countries are burning food due to universal laws stipulated by supply and demand (old news, I know). Someone dies of starvation every 2.43 seconds, 85% of which are children. That’s 30,273 children starving to death every day and countries are destroying food to ‘keep trade fair’. You tell me how we justify that to ourselves? We don’t. You see, we sit in our nice homes, go to our comfortable jobs, eat our tasty food and complain when our vegetables are cold and we don’t have to justify anything because we simply ignore it. And we continue to search for more and the very sad reality is that we are never going to find it. I’ll be the first to put up my hand and say that I don’t like to think about children dying in Africa because it breaks my heart and urges me to try and do something. And this is where discontentment comes in because I will never fix the problem. But, if I could just accept that my small contribution is adequate, then maybe I will find myself being equipped to do more. If I can’t be happy with where I’m at now, I never will be. Harsh, but true.
This isn’t a post about saving the world from poverty - that was merely a digression. It’s about learning to be enough.

look out betty crocker

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not particularly domestic. It’s a generational thing; my grandmother has a couple of ‘specialty’ dishes that she simply rotates and my mother jokes regularly about her aversion to being the mom-in-an-apron type. The other half are a family of caterers, so I’d like to think that I have the capability inside of me somewhere…now just to find it…
Despite my lack of home economic instinct, I have found myself being a little more adventurous in the kitchen lately thanks to more time at home and a well-equipped kitchen. Oh, and a hungry boyfriend willing to sample my, sometimes disastrous, efforts.
Last night’s attempt was banana muffins. I spent most of the evening defending myself against Ian's tormenting chirps from his bar-stool, positioned mid-kitchen, while I continued to make one novice mistake after another. In an attempt to quiet him, I got him mashing bananas but, alas, it would have taken far more than that to distract him.
In all fairness, it would have been hard for anyone to sit quietly as they watched me

• meticulously measure out 500g of flour rather than 500ml and then wonder why it was so heavy
  'That is A LOT of flour, Rox...'
• sift the wholemeal flour only to discover that I had sieved out all the wholemeal bits and then throw them back at the end declaring that I knew exactly what I was doing
  'Should you be doing that? Why didn't you just buy white flour then?'
• mess half a pot of cinnamon just to get a 5ml spoonful
  *resigned look*
• question the 50ml of baking powder called for in the recipe and thus doubt its accuracy and authenticity
  'Rox, perhaps you should just stick to the recipe…'
• proclaim how perfect my muffins were while prying them from the oven, poke one to check they were cooked and hurriedly shove them back into the oven in a state of alarm as I watched it sink back into itself
  'Like I said, maybe they need another 5 minutes.'

After all the fuss they turned out quite well, if I do say so myself, and we sat drinking tea and eating fresh banana muffins in my living room at the end of another long, London day. Maybe someday I'll be a true domestic goddess, conjuring up culinary pleasures to the delight of friends and family, but for now the entertainment involved in the experience is all the fun I (and perhaps Ian too) need.