fortune cookie mood monitor

At Jo’s birthday dinner at Dusit Thai, last night, I received a fortune cookie that said “You will be in a good mood tomorrow”. Would you believe that it actually came true? I’m in a super mood today.
However, I do feel a bit bad because Nicci called from work this morning to ask if I would grab her memory stick on the way out in order to email a file that she needed quite desperately for work today. When I got to work I tried to retrieve the files on my PC, unsuccessfully. Eventually, I went off to IT to request their help and one of the assistants did all that he could. After about 10 minutes he pulled the memory stick out of his PC, examined it and looked at me as if I was nuts. “Roxanne, this isn’t a memory stick – it’s a wireless LAN adaptor”. *blush* It seems I took the wrong ‘stick’ in my hurry to get out of the flat. There we were, me and the IT guy, both trying to get files out of the internet adaptor. Sorry Nix, I tried!
My manager just reprimanded me for eating chocolate so soon after lunch. I simply smiled and said it was an ‘after dinner mint’…only because I’m in such a good mood. Any other time, don’t come between me and my chocolate.
I just got a Facebook ‘friend request’ from Noddy McNoderson. This comes at a time suspiciously close to Bron, Liz and I using his name for practically every answer in our pub quiz. Perhaps he heard of our antics and wants to reprimand me for using his name in vain. Should I be worried that he’ll set Big Ears on me?
I intend to continue this good mood well into the evening as I tuck into a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and watch the Devil Wears Prada for the second time. Thanks goes out to Lovefilm for completely screwing up my priority list and sending me DVD’s at all the wrong times. You guys are great. And yes, I’m only saying that because I’m in such a good mood.

growing up...ugh

Thanks to the internet crack down at work I seem to be doing most of my writing late at night. Unfortunately for you, the bloggee, this time of day is not conducive to my most inspired writing and I’m struggling to produce entries that are of much interest. However, I figure, if you’re loyal you’ll read them anyway.
As promised, the report back on my visit to the dentist is as follows: you should eat as many sweets as you like.
That’s right, it seems my love of all things sugary and delectable has not been to my disadvantage as the dentist gave me a clear bill of dental-health this morning and sent me on my way sans new fillings and with a glowing smile. Plus, a big thank you goes out to the NHS for subsidising my dental hygiene and leaving me with enough spare change to spend on that pair of hot grey denims that I’ve been eyeing for the last couple of weeks at River Island. Okay, I haven’t actually bought the jeans and I’m feeling a little too guilty to buy them because I know I should really be saving that extra cash. Darn my weighty conscience! What happened to the girl who used to ‘shop now and think later’? From where does this irrational sense of responsibility stem? Could it be that she is just growing up? On that note it’s almost 10pm and I have a relatively busy day at work tomorrow so I should get a good nights rest.
*sigh* Yes, definitely growing up.

sweet tooth blues

I have a 9:15am dental appointment tomorrow and I have to admit that I'm marginally worried. It turns out that my flatmate's friend used to work there and the lady dentist is great but the guy...not so good. I mean, the thought of a 'bad dentist' with access to the numerous tools that they have at their disposal is somewhat unpleasant. Even less amusing is the fact that I have to walk into work with half my face numb and the likehood of having drool down my chin is not unrealistic.
I have holes. I know because I eat A LOT of sweets and I can feel them with my tongue. When it reaches that stage there is no alternative - I will not escape filling free.
In fact, as you read this I'm probably lying back in the dentist's chair staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of my own teeth being drilled away. On that note, enjoy your cup of tea, but are the long-term side effects of that sweet biscuit really worth it? I'll let you know.

epi-c torture

What I'm about to reveal is to be passed down the generations. I just got off a call with my mother in which I inquired as to why I was uninformed when she had so many years to warn me. Let no woman remain naive.
On Friday I bought an epilady. Completely overwhelmed by the thought of saving hundreds of hours of shaving and waxing and plucking over the course of my lifetime, I snapped up the last 'Philips Ice-cooler epilator' at 30% off from Boots and hurried home to try out my new purchase.
The horror of what ensued will remain with me always.
Imagine with me, if you will, a million little pins piercing your skin, in succession, for the time that it takes to rid that particular area of every, last follicle. Then a resultant rash so severe that any item of clothing making contact feels like sandpaper. And that was just my legs.
Today, after the shock had dimmed slightly, I decided that I would give it another go. This time I would conquer my under-arms. Unfortunately, the epi-torture-lator conquered me and I was left screaming, sweating from the pain, with blood flowing from my barren pores.
My conclusion: there is no quick and easy solution to hair removal. It is another one of those cruel injustices that the female race must endure, along with childbirth, emotional roller-coasters and 'monthlies'. I'm typing this with my elbows up in the air hoping that the pain will eventually subside. I'm told it will get easier after each use. But how will I possibly pluck up enough courage to pick that contraption up again? I'm thinking an entire bottle of wine and a couple of pain-killers. No sweat.

just avoiding sleep

As suspected, I was wide awake by 6:30am this morning. My body had decided that it was time to 'rise and shine' so I didn't even bother fighting it. I lay on the couch for a couple of hours and finished my book and then pottered about the flat. I always feel a little lost at the conclusion of a good book - I become so familiar with the characters and then it's just over, so abruptly.
It wasn't as sunny as they had forecast (BBC - do they ever get it right?) so Jo and I took advantage by shutting the blinds, cosying up under duvets and watching Memoirs of a Geisha. If any movie has succeeded to capture the very essence of femininity and true beauty, it is this one. *sigh*
At some stage during the evening we managed to whip up a cheese cake (it's still in the oven - report back to follow). It's so great to be in the company of friends that allow you to just 'be'. After a wonderful evening with Bron and V last night and tonight with Jo, I'm just cherishing the wonderful girlfriends I have in my life.
Fox is back tomorrow. Yay! My London simply isn't the same without him.
I guess I should get some sleep. I'm making a Mother's Day lunch for Mom and Aaron tomorrow (hence the cheese cake) and it requires a very focussed morning or who knows what poor Mom will be forced to ingest. Regardless, I know she'll eat it anyway and tell me it was delicious. That's just what Mom's do, isn't it?

chilled out

Another gorgeous day here today. Hard to believe that they’ve forecast snow for Tuesday but then I remember I’m in London and then nothing surprises me. I sat having a ‘deep and meaningful’ with a couple of colleagues, in the park at lunch time (no reading for me today). Surprisingly, no squirrels. We reiterated how relieved each of us was that it was the end of the week and I wondered if either of them could possibly be as relieved as I am. I have my doubts.
After last night’s catch-up with Jo, over some appetizing stir-fry and a dessert of cheese and crackers, I’m looking forward to another night in with Bron and V, enjoying (what I hope will be) tasty spag-bol and a Friday night DVD. I’m going to wake up very late tomorrow morning (always the plan – never do) and enjoy a day of lazing about in the park, enjoying the sunshine (16°C tomorrow, people!). It’s actually so nice (and only a little disconcerting) not to have any plans. The day is full of possibilities. Who knows, maybe it’ll even snow.

scary face causes squirrel to scurry

I ate my lunch in the park today. I couldn’t resist the lure of sunshine so I ordered my sandwich from Iris (our dinner lady) and parked myself on a bench overlooking the beautiful, blossoming flower-beds. As I admired the array of colours so typical of this time of year and ploughed into my ham/cheese/tomato (on whole-wheat) I considered all the potential this summer holds. My daydream abruptly gave way to reality as I looked down to find that, meanwhile, half my sandwich had fallen onto my lap and I spent the next few minutes picking pieces of grated cheese off my lovely jersey dress. Darn it all!
I sat reading my book and pretending to ignore the construction workers, sitting opposite me, eating their lunch and calling out various remarks to try and obtain my attention. I remained steely and they eventually gave up and continued to ‘humfph’ and ‘grumfph’ amongst themselves. I was distracted, only, by a scuffle in the bush behind me which I assumed to be a squirrel and turned to give it an indignant glance. It must have taken the hint because the noise stopped immediately and I continued where I had left off. Poor squirrel, there are probably little squirrel droppings left behind in terror as it fled for its life, away from my ‘scary face’. “That’s right buddy! And you can tell your friends not to disturb my reading time either!”
Now back at my desk, I feel I’ve acquired enough Vitamin-D to carry me to 5pm when I will head home to enjoy Stir-fry-a-la-Jo and an evening of chit-chat. And maybe I’ll be nicer to the squirrel tomorrow.

did the sun forget my smile?

It has been a truly beautiful week here in London Town. The sun has been shining as if it were the middle of summer and despite my incapacity to feeling appreciative about anything this week, I’ve been able to put my own miseries aside long enough to marvel at the blessings. From a pay rise to tummy laughter at writing ‘Noddy’ for every answer that Liz, Bron and I couldn’t fathom in Tuesday’s pub quiz, to my wonderfully caring friends and lots of sleep….oh and good books!
I don’t have too much to report, except that all the rest seems to have left me even more tired than I usually am. My body isn’t happy that I’ve messed with its ‘night-owl’ patterns and as a result it has been waking me up at about 2am every morning as if to say, “Mess with me? Ha, take that!” So I lie there, wishing I could stop thinking for long enough to fall back into slumber and fighting it only draws the whole ordeal out further. Unsurprisingly, I’ve thought my life inside-out and back-to-front this week…it’s never good. Just leave things be. They’re great as they are. Now, if I could just tell my face…

the torture of tedium

ANYTHING would be better than sitting here right now! Yes, that’s right, I said anything. People always say, “Really? Anything? What about this?! Or what about that?!” Believe me - ANYTHING! So vast is the extremity of my loathing for this place right now that I am being tormented by the mere expectation that I am to sit here for a further 1hr and 40 minutes and endure the afflictions of tedium. I am going mental - minute by minute, a litter further into a pit of madness until, by 5pm, I will be transformed into a lunatic born of dullness and sameness and monotony and BOREDOM! Earlier I had to ignore a call from a supplier at the risk of losing a well established relationship due to my intolerance. I mean come on, 6 calls about the same blinking issue. “Nothing has changed since the last time you called! Just give me what I asked for…the FIRST time!”
Oh, angels of creativity and excitement, come and rescue me from these chains which hold me to my desk for 7 excruciating hours each day (lunch is a Godsend). Perhaps I’ll drown my sorrows in 100L of water. I mean, it’s free in the canteen and it would mean I’d have to get up from my desk at least 200 times just to fill my water bottle.
See, totally losing it.
I just want to read my book. I want to escape this place, run home as fast as I can, cry until the horrors of such a day have been washed away and then enjoy my book, under my duvet and just disappear from the world for a few hours.
Ha, post-rant I only have 1hr and 30 minutes left to go. So time IS actually moving. Fancy that.

okay to change?

Summer is running head-first towards London. I can feel it in the air. I wake up in the mornings (with greater ease) and catch the sun trying to sneak through the small openings in my dark curtains. I’ve had to start carrying my sunglasses in my bag or I end up squinting all the way to work and I’m at the age where I really have to be mindful of premature frown lines.
Sitting at my desk is slightly more bearable thanks to the sunbeams caressing the Thames and even if I don’t have work to do, at least I have a pleasant view.
And as is typical of me at this time of the year, I’m feeling very restless. This change in the seasons always stirs the need for change within me. I spent a lot of time thinking about my “plans” this weekend. What do I want to do with the next couple of years of my life? Where do I want to live? When will I be able to pack it all in and start to see the world? Is that what I really want? It’s just that life can feel so limiting sometimes. I blame my inability to make decisions based purely on what I want and the need to consider every other person involved before I will let myself admit what I actually want. At times, this has caused undue stress and slowly a nasty little thing called bitterness begins to creep in, where it then grows like a weed before I’ve even noticed that it’s taken up residence in my spirit. This is simply unhealthy.
I know I do need to change something. Even if it’s only my hair. I promise to change my profile pic if I decide to go fiery-red or snotty-green (or something equally as drastic). But don’t hold your breathe. I’m likely to first consider how everyone else would feel about it.

a weekend read

I read half a book this weekend. The last 'half a book' I read took me a month to complete and majority of that was on a long-haul flight back from South Africa.
I woke up early (really early) yesterday morning to spend some time with Fox before he jetted off to Egypt. By 11am I was on Oxford St to meet a girlfriend (Miss Erica) for brunch at The Breakfast Club (quirky little spot in trendy Soho). On the way to the station, the lure of bright pink 3-for-2 stickers on numerous bestseller novels drew me into Borders. After much deliberation I decided that I did not, in fact, need three books but that one would suffice and walked out with a copy of Marian Keyes’ Anybody Out There. To ensure that I wasn’t left feeling hard-done-by I stopped in at the library on the way home and managed to pick up a copy of one the other books I had intended to purchase, This Book will Save Your Life by A. M. Homes (phew - I must have picked it up just in time!).
Thanks to the afternoon sun streaming through my bedroom window and a severe lack of sleep I managed approximately 3 pages before retreating into a deep 1 hr Saturday afternoon slumber. I woke up feeling unexpectedly perky and predictably desperate for chocolate (it’s this odd thing that afternoon naps do to me).
A quick hair-rescue was in order (I simply could not subject the world to the horrors of my severe bed-head) and then a bus ride down to Wandsworth where I met Jo to watch Becoming Jane. We concluded the evening, at Manor Fields (oh, that's where I live) with a civilised cup of tea, a generous serving of Ben & Jerry's (consistently delectable, boys) and a good ol' chinwag.
I woke naturally this morning but, again, way too early and decided to use the time to get stuck into my book.
A bit later in the morning I ventured further west to visit Mom’s church where they had an ex-hitman as guest speaker. His style was perhaps a little too militant for my liking but his message was powerful. However, pictures of a 3-month-old baby post-‘boiled in oil’ left me feeling quite disturbed, if not somewhat upset.
Mom and I passed the afternoon by drinking tea and chatting (sudden realisation that my tea consumption has increased significantly). I made good use of the tube journey home to delve further into my novel.
On arriving home I slapped together a couple of tuna wraps, took the Ben & Jerry’s out of the freezer and endured My Fair Lady for long enough to decide my book had far more appeal and Eliza Doolittle’s voice was best appreciated in small doses.
So here I sit, in my bed (having typed this post numerous times thanks to technical issues!!), not quite ready to flick the light-switch on my weekend. Perhaps I’ll read just a few more pages…

willing the week(to)end

It’s the end of another week. I’m feeling rather irritable, largely due to the overindulgent amounts of chocolate and caffeine I have consumed this week as a substitute for mental stimulation. I’m not sure how the two are connected but there is justification to be found in there somewhere. I’m almost sure.
Fox is off to Egypt tomorrow *sob* so I have a weekend of girlyness (don’t dispute the word – the laws of English hold no weight on a blog) planned - a lady’s brunch in the city, followed by coffee with Jo and watching Becoming Jane with “the ladies” on Saturday evening. It’s all rather civilised.
But before all of that I have a night-in with my man, enjoying a delicious Waitrose “dinner for two” (I think!), a DVD and reminiscing over pictures from our recent city break. That’s my kind of Friday night.
I was reading this “encouragement” email a bit earlier (please note that the excessive use of “inverted commas” denotes my sarcastic attitude towards the world today – it’s been a long week) and it was saying that we really need to learn to be content with the hand we’re dealt. That’s fair enough. I know I’ve harped on about this for a couple of days now, but seriously, am I to be content with sitting and doing nothing while my life passes me by?? Surely not. I would look back at previous blog posts to check if I was feeling the same way at this time last year but I can’t because my blogsite is blocked!
Anyway, I feel the need to say that I am content. I love my life and I totally appreciate all the blessings but I am so darn bored that even chocolate has lost its endorphinic (again, English, out the window) power over me. Tough times peeps, tough times.
Anyway, it’s almost weekend and I have loads to look forward to so, over the next few hours, I will attempt to lift my mood and leave here feeling unburdened and…I’m trying here okay(?!)…ha…haaa……hhaaaappp……happy. Yes, happy!

work simply sux

sigh… thumb-twiddle…have another cup of tea…pull hair out of head one strand at a time…
I have been so determined to have a productive week. I wrote a long list of things to do in my diary and have been crossing them off as I go. Yesterday, I ploughed through my mammoth list and had completed everything by 15:30. This morning I had completed everything by 09:30. Great!
It’s hard to be productive when you have nothing to which you can apply yourself. There are days when I feel like I am simply wasting away in front of my computer; facing my screen, watching my inbox and willing it to offer me communication from the outside world.
I received an email from a colleague who has been on a ‘sabbatical’ in Australia for the last 5 months and was due to come back next month. Today, he sent me an email saying that he has decided not to return and promptly emailed my boss with his letter of resignation. I was almost envious of his situation. For one, I probably wouldn’t have the guts just to say, “Sorry, I’ve decided to stay” if I knew how much the company had put themselves out to accommodate me. Secondly, if I don’t work, I don’t eat and I love my food.
However, sometimes I really wish that I could just throw it all in and live a life of spontaneity. I’d wake up each morning, lie in bed and rather than trying to decided what I’m going to wear (which is what I do at the moment) I’d contemplate my day’s activities. Of course, I’d have an endless supply of dosh so that wouldn’t be an issue at all. “Maybe, today, I’ll go and watch a matinee, or I’ll write another chapter of my book or I’ll hop onto a plane to Africa and spend a couple of weeks helping out at Watoto. Or maybe I’ll just lie here and read the paper (delivered to my door) and drink a cup of cha.”
The opportunities are endless and the potential of such a life is so appealing I’m considering popping out to the shop across the road to buy a lotto ticket. Can you imagine? I’d never have to look at SAP again, or argue with a supplier about overdue deliveries or see the miserable faces of colleagues who wish that they too didn’t have to be here. I guess I just have my days. I wouldn’t say I have much affection for this place but it’s tolerable. Just not today.

from buda to pest and back

At the risk of being cyber-stoned I thought it timely to update you on my weekend away in Budapest. I flew out to Hungary, on Friday, to meet my man who is currently working in the Eastern European capital. My first impressions of the castle district, where we were staying, literally took my breathe away. The grand walls stand high and proud as you enter the boom which only allows access to residents, guests and buses. As I was chaffeured up to the hotel, I was greeted by Fox and the perfected, classy lights of the Hilton.
A cheery greeting from the porter and we set off for a nice dinner and returned at a respectable hour to prepare us for the sight-seeing the following day.
I will spare you the lengthy details but, we did A LOT of walking on Saturday. We trekked both sides of the Danube, from Buda to Pest and back and as Fox and I scanned the city from the top of Castle Hill, on our return, we congratulated ourselves for conquering such vast distances with enough energy left to tell the tale. Saturday night dinner was at a novel little pub called "For Sale" and the size of the food portions will forever torment me as I recall being utterly defeated by a plate of pasta and veal. I was hurting.
Sunday, we ticked off the last of the items on our "to see" list and ended the weekend with Chinese take-out (delivered to the hotel room door) and a night-cap at a favourite local cafe, Miro.
I love discovering new cities and especially ones with such diverse history and even better to have such a wonderful, like-minded travel partner.
On my return to London, lugging my bag up Putney Hill (thanks to a broken down truck) I was stopped by a guy driving a van who asked for directions. I instructed him exactly which turn-offs to take and to follow the signs from there. Aah, what a sense of familiarity...a welcome feeling of home.