Ahem

Ahem
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

You little bloody beauty!

Another moment of glory.

Everyone wants their 1.7 seconds of fame.

Mine kicks in here at around 1 minute 16.



Go Ruddy!

I cast my vote yesterday, with a horrific sniffly cold and in about 5 degrees. Gotta love London.

Poles and Cobblestones

I have to say, with some arrogance, that my new job is pretty sweet.

I just spent the weekend in Sofia, Bulgaria -eating, drinking and being merry with colleagues from the old Soviet bloc. Oh yeah. And I was working.

This was basically the deepest I have been into 'new' europe, and lordy lord, I had a good time.

I was helping to coordinate a training weekend of 50 lawyers from across our 7 CEE offices, and lucky for me, inherently bound up in that task was a significant amount of socialising including, unexpectedly, some of the best clubbing I have done in quite sometime!

I have resolved, also unexpectedly, that at the first opportunity I find, I think I am going to try and marry a Pole. I briefly thought that this might be a bad idea as I would end up with some unpronounceable combination of z's y's k's and o's as my surname, but, once I remembered that I don't intend to change my surname I realised that it was a surmountable problem.

By way of explanation, Polish men seem to be a lovely combination of chivalrous, well-groomed , attractive and nicely perfumed. I have always tried never to allow this blog to become a Carrie Bradshaw-esque column (though if I did, I would probably be richer) but given my recent perplexing experiences as a single woman on both sides of the globe, there is something very appealing about Polish sensibility. (As an aside lads, the girls are invariably gorgeous. Something to keep in mind....)

Whilst away, I made several observations that I planned to share on here, not the least of which is that 'boxing boot as fashion statement' is well and truly alive in Bulgaria, however as I have idiotically managed to break the space bar on my computer, typing this is causing fatigue of my usually indefatigable right thumb.

I have posted a couple of pics on the photostream, none of them too remarkable, but they do show the first big snow of the season, which conveniently ruined our group excursion to a world heritage listed monastery, and gave me my first true lip-numbing taste of the central european winter.

And I shall leave you with a final thought - cobblestones + ice + stiletto boots + Adelle = thank god there was a lovely chivalrous Polish man to save her. Hahahahahahaha. Goodnight & goodlucksky.

Elekshuneering

Inevitability

Winter is coming.

I swear that in the 2 weeks that my mother was here, and while my feet were barely touching the ground, the season changed.

As soon as I had time to take a deep breath and open my eyes again, all of a sudden it was darker, cooler, and the psyche of this town shifted, just a little.

Everywhere I walk now, the shadows of fallen oak leaves (probably swept up at 4 am by the street cleaner) stain the roads and the pavements like ghosts. They are quite beautiful, and I must admit, when I first noticed them everywhere as I walked to work, I was delighted. Silly things like this I guess, are what we don’t really have in Australia.

Just like London breathes in, breathes out and relaxes when the sun comes out, the trees seem to wait until the first day of autumn to breathe in and let their leaves fall to the ground with a sigh.

Other signs of the looming winter abound.

I arrived home to my flat a few weeks ago and literally had to de-robe as soon as I walked in the door. The heating for the whole of the block where I live had been switched on and as the boiler is located right underneath the floor of my flat, the pipes were (ironically) piping hot for a solid week, while the managers of the building tried to get the temperature right. The happy bonus of this is that, in winter, the flat will always be warm and this will, apparently, save us quite a bit of coin.

Where previously I could leave work at 6pm and trot along Aldersgate street with the sun sitting high in the sky, I now exit the revolving doors to a rapidly darkening sky. When I go to the gym, I emerge at 7 and it is totally dark. When I first arrived the sun didn’t set until well after 9. This, I find, is a little depressing.

I have noticed certain gastronomical changes in myself of late. Defaulting in my choice of beverage to a cup of tea is one of them. When I get to work, when I get home and when I am going to bed, I lose control of my will as my body, without prompt, goes through the motions of getting out my mug, boiling the kettle and preparing the brew. I only regain control when I am sat holding, two-handed, a steaming mug of English tea. It’s all a bit strange really.

The preference for stodge is also developing. I noticed this initially the other night when I went to a great little pub around the corner called the Bird in Hand, and on a lovely menu of all sorts of tasty treats, I chose sausage and mash. And my word, that cheesy mash and those yummy yummy Baron’s Court Butcher’s bangers, tasted lovely as they descended down through my oesophagus, on the way to their ultimate destination which I imagine (although this is obviously speculation) is either that nice soft bit of my tummy about an inch below my belly button, or (and this is more likely), to my thighs.

But I digress.

One of the definite upside’s of this whole getting colder business, is the clear days. Last weekend I had the fortune of attending a christening in Holmefirth, inYorkshire, and I don’t think we could have had more perfect weather. Although, naturally, 16 degrees is a little cold for my tastes, a clear sky with the odd fluffy cloud, no wind, and the rolling hills of West Yorkshire were, to my mind, absolutely exquisite.

A fellow christening-goer asked me whether we had views like that in Australia, and while I think we certainly do, I answered him by pointing out the things we wouldn’t have – stone walls that look like they were built 400 years ago (although it was probably 500 years ago) and little country cottages with triangular roofs, also made of stone. In Australia we have other things, but there are few I think, who can dispute the beauty of the northern countryside.

Anyway, life is going well here. I start my new job this week, and am very much looking forward to my first work trip the following week, to Bulgaria. I now have a blackberry for work which means you can email me on my work address at any hour of the day or night and I will get it. I can’t quite decide whether that is cool or depressing.

Right, well I have wasted nearly my entire Saturday on the phone and typing this for later upload to the blog (no internet at home right now…. grrrr!) so I am going to stop and get out of the house for a bit. So until next time, ciao.

(Oh yeah, I hear there is an election on. For a laugh go to this page.)

W14

There comes a time in every girl's life where she has to confess that she has been extremely slack, and in turn, apologise profusely...

This is my time.

I haven't blogged very much lately.

But in my own defence, may I just say, that is has been a rather busy period.

To being with, I moved into my new flat on Tuesday. Many of you would have received the email updating my contact details, and the London savvy amongst you will recognise that the title of this post is a reference to my postcode. Ahem.

Anyway, I am sharing with a German girl who is a product designer (this is her website) and a Greek boy who is in finance. Thus far it has been cool. My room is pretty comfortable and I am personalising it bit by bit. It's in West Kensington which sounds a bit posher than it is, but it's great for transport etc etc, and I think I have stumbled on a pretty good deal.

So what are my other excuses?

Well, Mum was here for a fortnight, which consumed my time a fair bit. We had a great time, traipsing up and down the country and across to Belgium for a weekend too. Even though it hadn't been too long since I last saw my folks, having them around certainly reminds you of such things as; how restrained your personality generally is when you aren't with family and close friends and, how nice it is to be able to turn to your mum and say in a whingy, juvenile voice - mu-um i can't iron shirts as well as you can, puh-leeaase will you iron this one for me (complete with ear to ear slightly pleading grin...... and yes, i realise how extraordinarily stupid i have just made myself sound).

Anyway, it was fab having mum around (did I just say fab?!) and I will miss her loads. And all I can say is, thank goodness Dad was in Brussels to condone my beer-drinking despite the protestations of my mother.

Brussels, as an aside, is a very cool city. I can't imagine that you would be able to have an action-packed week there, but for a weekend of Moulles, fine Belgian beer in copious quantities, and restraint-impairing chocolates I can hardly think of anywhere better. I also dined on the best and poshest chip and sausage sandwhich over which I have ever cast my eyes, in a place called Fritte Paradise, or something similar. Fritte as in Pomme Fritte, meaning chip (in french, I think).

Fans of dance music might also be surprised to hear that I heard remarkably cool sounding electro pumping out about the place, everywhere that I seemed to trot. There also appeared to be a number of impromptu outdoor dance events happening on the Saturday night - somewhat random, but tres cool. Mmmmhmm.

What else, what else? Oh yes, Labour conference!

Well what an experience that was. It made me realise how comparatively clueless I am about British politics as compared to the Oz situ. But it is also quite interesting to be told after the fact that you just brushed shoulders with a cabinet minister without realising it.

I scored possibly the best deal possible in terms of a conference - as an international guest (and hilariously, sole rep of the ALP!) I had invites to all the wicked international events as a 'sister-party' member, and rubbed shoulders with the PM on a couple of occasions (well as much as you can when you have his security entourage between you and he) and was also lumped in with all the random foreign dignatories who were invited - i.e. Ambassador's and High Commissioners from here there and everywhere. My Belgian counterparts and I had a good laugh on several occasions as we couldn't believe our luck!

The PM's speech was a highlight, obviously. I didn't think it a flawless performance, but it certainly did many things on many levels, and was an impressive feat of speech writing. The Q & A session for international guests with 4 cabinet ministers present was another highlight. We had the Foreign Secretary, Development Secretary, Home Secretary and the Defence Secretary all together answering whatever was thrown at them. Intriguing and impressive.

People who call the Cabinet here a brat-pack are seriously underestimating the intelligence of these people. I wish the ALP had comparable talent to play with.

I also attended several very interesting fringe events, which are basically seminars put on by NGO's and think tanks debating every topic you could possibly imagine. I am such a nerd, and I have given up denying it, but I particularly enjoyed a debate on whether 'individual aspiration kills communities'. I could write another entire post on that session, but basically, I was interested to see entirely different conclusions drawn to what I was expecting.

But after the speeches were finished and the fringes over each day, the real fun began. Free receptions with plenty of wine on hand, and plateful's of fried finger food to soak it up. Hobnobbing, chinwagging and stumbling ensued each evening, with the inevitable plod home through the rolling curves of the Bournemouth coast to my hotel.

Anyway, conference was a great experience, and I hope to wangle my way in somehow next year. I shall spend some hours sitting at the desk in my new room, tapping my fingers together in a Mr Burns-esque way, plotting my return.

And it is going to take hours of plotting, because I have a new job. Same firm, but a step out of immigration and into a role that is going to entail a fair amount of travel to Eastern Europe, a bit of hobnobbing and chinwagging (hopefully sans cheap wine) and obviously, some legal work too. Very exciting, and starting in 3 weeks.

Finally, and least importantly, as many of you are obviously aware - it was my birthday a while back. I have reached the inglorious milestone of a quarterofacentury. Bleurgh.

So, though this has been a slightly lengthy apology for my lack of output, I hope that it has been worth the wait. Sadly, probably not.

Don't forget the photostream for associated pictures!

Unabashed Gloating

I was on the Eurostar to Brussels when I found out that the Power had lost the GF by an unprecedented margin. And I have to say, it was with outright glee that I read the SMS from Aunty Mel telling me so.

Sucked in Power.

Anyway, I have been pretty slack on here lately, and I apologise to my loyal readers (mainly my grandparents I think).

I am leaving Brussels tonight, bidding my Dad adieu for now, and then Mum is helping me move into my new place tomorrow. She leaves the following day, and so ends a whirlwind trip!

I have lots to write about Labour conference which I went to last week - was wicked. But I cant do it now so until later.

Bye bye!

Beady Eyed Early Morning Hard Core People

Beady Eyed Early Morning Hard Core People
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

Well, up there with the weirdest things I have done in London thus far, this morning I woke up at 4.30 am after two hours sleep, and headed down to notorious antipodean bar the Slug at Fulham to watch the Crows.

So random. Pity about the result. It's very irritating being in close quarters with the supporters of the victor right after you lose, that's for sure!

But even more random was the fact that a) there were about 100 people thereat 5am in a pub NOT serving alcohol to watch the match and b) I bumped into two people I knew! One was a guy I worked at Woolies with back in the day, and the other was my old upstairs neigbour in Norwood. So strange!

I now feel sorta sick as my body is a bit confused about whether it is day or night - I have slept most of the day y'see!

From L-R - Leigh, Me, Neegs, Geoff.

Just saw the Chaser's prank on CNN.

Hahahahahahahahahahaahahahah.

Have been off work sick today, am feeling a little hyperactive. Have spent the entire day internet shopping!

Yawn.

Hellenic Holiday

Somewhat depressing is the fact that I am writing this post, 6 days after getting back to London, but that it feels like I have been back in this tube-strike-ridden city a lot longer. (Yes there is a tube strike - it took me 3 hours to get to work this morning - and yes, I did want to cry when I finally arrived). The fetta has finally left my system. Just.

No matter. Greece, in case you haven't worked it out, was awesome. It is one of those destinations that I had been imagining going to for so long, that when it actually happened, I had to pinch myself to confirm that yes, I was actually there, and yes, it was actually as beautiful as I had imagined, if not more so.

I flew overnight, on a bizarre short-hop which I coped unexpectedly well with, especially given that the crazy Greek air hostesses insisted on gallivanting up and down the fully lit cabin the whole time.

I ferried out to Ios to meet my friend, and found the ferry ride excruciating, as I had barely slept and couldn't get to sleep in the smoke-filled cabin (aaaah Europe - liberation for hamstrung British smokers). But I wasn't disappointed when I arrived. The view from the hostel was divine and in London would be well out of my price range, but not in Ios, ohhhh no.

After a dip in the sparkling jewel-like Mediterranean (beware - it is so salty it makes bleach blonde hair like a haystack) I essentially headed straight for the pool, where I commenced tan-o-rama, drank some beer, fell asleep in the sun. By coincidence Kevin Yost was playing a set there that evening (some of you may know him??) and so as day turned to night, fabulously attractive Europeans of all stripes danced in their bikinis, boardshorts, and if they were Spaniards of the male variety, their alarmingly brief speedo-style jock bathers.

Dinner was a late one, cut prematurely short by my rapid-onset comatoseness, brought on my 2 hours of sleep the previous evening, sun, and beer.

The next day the routine was repeated, without the alcohol as we had to ferry over to Santorini in the afternoon.

A note on Greek ferries - they are often cancelled, and as we discovered, you don't tend to find that out until the last second. Handy. Nonetheless, we got there in the end, only a couple of house later than planned.

The hostel in Santorini was awesome - tucked away right near the main strip - close enough to revel, far enough to be able to sleep afterwards. Santorini is in one word, breathtaking. It is beautiful in that 'yep (long exhale) I'm in the Greek islands' kind of way. Whoever decided to build towns into the side of cliffs before scaffolding was invented was a total madman, but equally, a visionary. The sunset from those cliffs, as those of you have viewed my pics will know, is heart-meltingly beautiful. Pity you can't get a decent glass of wine to drink as the sun goes down.

A note on Greek wine - don't drink it! ;-)

Pottering through the streets of Fira and Oia was a total treat. I tried to get some pics to capture the spirit of the thing, but I failed really. Must be experienced to be understood.

So, I took a few miscellaneous notes (thankfully as I would have forgotten these things).

Caffe Freddo - delicious split-level espresso coffee concoction - drunk cold & sweet. Heaven.

Body consciousness - if only all women had the confidence of European women. Watching them swan about in all their imperfect glory - not only makes you think that they ARE perfect but rubs off on others less confident. Four days surrounded by that even made me forget about my little pot-belly, wobbly upper arms and a bit-too-solid thighs. I've obviously remembered them again now that I am home. But as I am a proud new member of the gym opposite work, wobble no longer shall I.

Angry Greek Men - my tried and tested travel technique is to , when i am unsure or lost, smile sweetly, speak in a slightly higher voice than normal and look as innocent as possible. It doesn't work on Greeks.

A note on Greek male restaurant owners- don't make jokes with them as you sit down to one of their tables. I was forced to gulp down a plateful of marinated calamari feeling like a naughty schoolgirl for trying to apply the above technique, and, god-forbid, attempting a lame joke.

So there you are. You can blame brevity on tube-strike-induced fatigue. Happy to put travel-agents hat on for those of you who want to ask questions, and are contemplating a potential visit.

Mum gets here soon.

I am house-hunting.

Work is weird.

Greece was tops.

Back from Greece

Kevin 07
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

I ran up the hill to the Acropolis today in the little time I had in Athens (which fortunately unlike the rest of mainland Greece is NOT burning) to do my bit for democracy in the birthplace of democracy.

Will try to do a Greek Islands post before long.

Click on this pic to see more newies!

Pigeons

Pigeons
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

From my lunchtime vantage point.

Steps on the Path to Becoming A Farmyard Animal or, London! Just Add Sun!

Something cool happens in London on sunny days.

It is as though people conspiratorially throw a glance of each shoulder, tilt their chin to the sky and with their eyes dazzled by the sunshine, shrug their shoulders in unison and agree to be far less uptight than usual.

Consecutive weekends have brought clear days with temperatures in the mid to high 20's, and like a sheep trotting along behind the herd I have lapped it up, even sinking to depths which I would never have admitted to a few short weeks ago; that is, in a mini-skirt and singlet last Sunday I settled in on a park bench in the gardens up the road and read Harry Potter until my skin changed colour.

Today has been another one of those days- temperature wise I mean. And with Frilly away for the weekend and friends busy doing other things, I decided to have a slightly self-indulgent, almost touristy day out.

And so it was that after a nice sleepy lie-in, I got up and did some washing, swallowed some cheese & vegemite on toast, walked to Earl's Court tube and headed over to the biggest book shop in Europe - Waterstone's at Piccadilly. It is one of those big old book stores where you can sit in a big comfy chair and read for as long as you bloody-well like. And nearly two hours later, I walked out of there, arms-full, purse lighter, with three books and a gift.

A pal had tipped me off that just next door was a place called the Japan Centre which is, I think, a rather unimaginative name for what is in essence, a one-stop purveyor of everything Japanese right in the West End! They have handicrafts, books and all that kind of thing, as well as a ground level restaraunt dishing up what looked like delicious, reasonably-priced Japanese nosh (the place was packed!) and a lower-ground with a fresh sushi stand, as well as such treats as "Pocky". I grabbed a few bits and pieces and a tray of delicious fresh sushi (for a startlingly cheap 3 pounds or so) and plodded down Regent Street, Haymarket and (I think) Pall Mall and ended up in a packed Trafalgar Square to eat my lunch!

I was on a patch of grass out the front of the British Museum, which was a perfect vantage point for the fountain and monument, as well as to watch tour groups of various ethnicities undergo the indignity of having bird seed sprinkled in their hair, having photo's taken in awkward looking poses and with uncertain smiles allowing pigeons to perch all over them.

Hehehehe. Funny. See my photo's on the photostream.

After finishing my lunch, and being unable to find a bloody bin (damned hard to find at the best of times in this city due to I suppose, security-related reasons) I dropped my rubbish in the trolley of one of the maintenance-y looking blokes who hover around the Square, and then walked up St Martin's Lane to Covent Garden for a spot of, ahem, shopping.

My regular readers know doubt saw my sarky little post of a few days ago about my imminent trip to the Cyclades Islands in Greece to meet a friend. And I have to say, all the things that I always thought seemed a little foreign about British holiday culture, that I had picked up here and there from various magazines and television shows, are starting to become crystal clear.

The imperative to purchase new items of clothing, for example, has had my heart pumping as I scour the sale racks for 'that' perfect summer dress that shall see my (I hope) sunned self, tracing a path through the streets of Santorini.

I think this is quite an ingrained English thing, such that, editorial in fashion magazines contains lines like 'this crisp linen mini-dress will take you straight from day to night on your Mediteranean summer holiday'. An astute antipodean reads between such lines and sees the truth: 'Let's face it, British weather is so unpredictable and frequently dismal that you are NEVER going to be able to wear a crisp linen mini-dress anywhere here, except perhaps on one of those three warm days that we are expecting this summer. Conclusion- buy it for your holidays.'

Again, this bleating sheep, this oh-so conformist follower of herds, bought not one but TWO mini-dresses today for her mediterranean holiday, albeit that neither of them are crisp white linen.

But I digress. The difference between previous "garment for holidays' purchasing I have done and this new variation on the theme, is that I am highly unlikely to ever wear either dress in London, and certainly nowhere north of here! My holiday clothes shall sit waiting for holidays!

Aaah such extravagance.

I have realised, in other news, that in an administrative oversight I have forgotten to tell you about the theatre that I have seen here thus far.

My first excursion was to The Old Vic to see a great production of Gaslight a play that I vividly recalled my father in, when I was a lot younger. Tracey and I saw it in the middle of the "great deluge" (also known as the period of summer which included the video that I made of the hail for a previous post) and were upgraded to better seats, far away from the leaky drip-drip of the rain weedling in through the gaps.

Second excursion was organised by Frilly, and was to see a brilliant contemporary ballet production of The Car Man, which was (I am told) loosely based on Bizet's Carman, of which I knew nothing. I was in awe at the ability of the dancers to tell in detail a sordid tale, without ever uttering a word.

With Kim coming to visit me in a couple of weeks, I am planning the next theatre trip and I am currently tossing up between Avenue Q and In Celebration which is a play that Orlando Bloom is currently in..... Anyway, it is almost redundant to point out the abundant choice in entertainment here - musicals, plays, ballets every night of the week. Sigh. Sometimes I think that I could easily become a lady of pure, unadulterated leisure. ;-)

Ok, well that is enough for now. I am having a Saturday night in and am rather excited about it. A book, some stir fry and possibly a Monk (the drink) or two. Until next time, adios.

Sojourn

In three weeks I am going here and here.

Are you jealous, are you? Huh, HUH??!

The Tuesday Funk

Not funk as in funky. Funk as in rut.

This is now the third Tuesday night where I have felt a little bit miserable. The previous two were possibly hangover related from the weekend, but this week my main reason is that I caught up with a friend of my brother's from Adelaide who has been stuggling for 18 months to get back into Australia to see his daughter. And essentially for him, it has been a little bit like pushing the proverbial up a hill.

I am now going to help him get his application sorted and submitted, and fortuitously, having now entered my third week working in the immigration team of a certain law firm, I kinda know a bit about what is wrong with his application as it stands.

Nonetheless, feeling a little (a lot of) empathy for his situ, I was ready to ball my eyes out after seeing him tonight, and I am not even the one who hasn't seen my daughter for 18 whole months.

The Tuesday funk generally ends on a Tuesday, luckily, so tomorrow I will re-read this post and think I sound like a whining loser. But right now, as I enjoy balcony-time and red wine, I thought I would give you a glimpse of my decidedly grey mood. I am sure it makes for thoroughly joyous reading.

Some goodish news brewing, is that after being fairly well mucked around by a particular recruitment agency who dazzled me with the lights of a cool job in Canary Wharf (as previously mentioned in an earlier post), I have tickled and talked my way into an impending short term contract with the afore alluded-to firm which will see me propl'y qualified as a proper solicitor. Lalala. But having yet to see or get a whiff of the contract, I have learned a little lesson about counting chickens etc etc etc.

For those of you who like my soap-box philosopher rants, I have one brewing about my observations of class divisions and money in this lil ol town, but I am musing over it, because my opinions are currently a little ill-formed. I think.

Am reading quite ardently, two books at once. A serious brain-food book on the tube, and Harry Potter at night. It is rather delightful to spend around 90 minutes a day reading. As such, I am becoming quite fond of my daily commute. Althought, I confess, my new habit of reading a book, no matter how packed the tube, has reduced my capacity for observing those around me.

I can however smell them from time to time. Particularly on warm days. Like today. ;-)

BTW - there aren't very many bugs in London. Just something I have noticed.

Cheese

More Cheese
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

I am just posting this picture to make the blog look a little more interesting. (This was at the Borough Market on Saturday).

The post below is what you should be reading.

Solubility

Every day when I walk down the street, catch the tube, watch TV, go to the supermarket, i see loads of things that I would love to write on here - little gems of mini-humour that amuse me no-end. Sadly for all of you, I can never remember them, no matter how much I try and deliberately commit them to memory!

People who have lived in London bear with me, the little insights that I do manage to recall and that I present as my own probably have no whiff of originality for you, and I recognise that they are a bit over-exuberant and self indulgent. But while it's all new I am unapologetic, because my eyes have already started adjusting to the lights of this old town.

I haven't written nearly enough about the tube, and every day I have to stifle laughter for one reason or another when I catch it. The moment I stop being amused by tube body language and my own crazy tube thoughts, I will know that my sense of humour has dissolved and/or I have become the most cynical type of London public transport patron.

It struck me today as I eeked out my path along the District and Circle lines to Barbican station, that every tube ride sees me having numerous conversations in my head. I also tend to imagine what other people are thinking about those around them.

Last Friday night as I caught one of the last tubes back to Earl's Court from Putney, I was alone, observant and a little inebriated having spent the afternoon at the Coat & Badge with some newly arrived pals. There was a bloke of about 26 with a carton of beer in one arm, and a big packet of hot chips under another. He was handing out the beers to whoever would take them, mainly young attractive girls who looked about 17. The dialogue going on in my head at that point was something along the lines of "oh god, please don't roll one of those things at me" given that I was by myself, and probably not particularly able to string a good deflection sentence together.

Ok, so that wasn't one of the most amusing or witty conversations that I have had with myself, but I was tired, full of beer, Pimms (heaven in a jug with cucumber for good measure) tarragon chicken burger, and confused about certain happenings on a certain Putney Bridge.

Today on the way home from work, I moved seats to try and get a bit of space ("Hmmm - a vacant double seat - I can read my copy of London Lite without having to give myself elbow cramps") and at the very next stop a bloke got on and sat right next to me, therefore defeating the point of moving in the first place ("Oh great one Del, draw unnecessary attention to yourself by moving, and then pick the seat where someone sits down straight away.") And then a brief pause..... ("What the hell is that smell? *Subtle sniff* Ok, don't vomit, it's just unwashed clothes, mixed with stale tobacco and alcho-breath. Nothing too offensive.") A casual sideways glance.... "is it a hobo? no it's a man in a suit. *internal grunt & snicker* Oh you fool, you've just inhaled air from his pongy aura".

Even slightly more amusing is the conversation my two selves enjoy when a good-looking man boards the carriage. "Go on give him a wink" says the 5% of me that would ever dream of doing such a thing. "Keep your head down and admire tactfully from afar", says the dominant, sensible, astoundingly Virgo 95%. That fraction always wins. Sigh, if only I were a Gemini.

Now the only reason I can think that I have all these strange little conversations is because of the acute silence on the bloody things. In fact, the only people who speak on the tube are those who speak a language other than English, and (unsurprisingly?) Americans, usually in family groupings. Today when I asked a slightly infirm woman if she would like my seat, she initially looked at me like I had poked her in the rear with a pin, until she realised that I was actually offering to give up my little luxury and stand the rest of the way home rocking on my uncomfortable stiletto heels, for HER BENEFIT.

Anyway, this is just one short instalment in my tube adventures. There will, I can assure you, be more.

BTW those of you who previously read my blog when I was living in Jakarta will know of my penchant for Project Runway, the fashion designer reality show, and I have one eye on it right now as I am typing this. Which is timely, as the commercials have reminded me of something else - the fact that I suppose in an effort to not be London-posh-centric, commercials in and of themselves are oh-so-politically correct in that one will come on with a Welsh voice-over or a Jordy voice over or a Cockney voice over or what I like to call "miscellaneous-northern-sounding-but-not-quite-discernible-accent". I actually don't call it that at all, but you get what I mean.

And in my phrase of the week which I don't know whether makes me laugh or cry, an Irish lady in my current workplace came over to the desk next to mine earlier today and said "This fu**ing thing is about as tidy as a tinker's trolley". I need to practice my poker face, as when she saw my reaction she looked at me and winked. Naturally I was aghast.

Anyway, I am not talking about work this week. I am doing a short stint in a painfully boring role until the other thing is sorted (Government, pah!) and it is killing me. My brain is numb.

My final little self-indulgence for this post is to say a shout-out to the exquisite Ruby-Mae, my new little cousin who could not be cuter if she tried. Don't let her grow up until I come home.

Plethora of Things I've Noticed

Well first thing's first - I am disappointed to report that the post about going to see Angus and Julia Stone was a little eager. I traipsed across town to Hoxton & Shoreditch to a little place called the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen only to be told the damn show was sold out. Fortunately Geoff came with me in the end, so I didn't have to sit there like an idiot, alone. The worst thing was that I reckon we were the only Aussies there, and the door bitches took sadistic delight in denying our entry. Cows.

Anyway I've been noticing silly little things and I want to write them on here now before I stop noticing them and they become normal.

So first thing is - apparently road helmets are not compulsory here. I am not sure why this bothers me, given that I am entirely disinterested in cycling anywhere, ever. However some seldom used neuron in my brain seems to remember a graphic advertising campaign when helmets were made compulsory in Australia. Something to do with a watermelon smashing on a road?? (Have I imagined this?) So basically when I am walking down the street seeing all these un-helmeted cyclists, they transform into a bunch of melon-heads on two-wheelers. Kind of entertaining. I just don't want to see anyone fall off.

Second thing is, unsurprisingly, the ongoing neuroticism about and obsession with, the weather. The entire first week I was here was miserable - punctuated with an absolutely divine weekend last weekend (I got sunburnt a little bit!) and even Monday was pretty good. Now, having grown up in Australia where wide open spaces are not an especial privilege (except if you live in inner-Sydney I guess) I cracked a chuckle on the street (strict no-no anywhere in the world i suppose -makes you look like a bit of a nutter) when I saw people in BIKINIS sunbaking on the Redcliffe Square Gardens just up the road. It is a common lawned area that is locked in the evenings, but when the sun was out, people were lying there catching rays. I found that absolutely bizarre. It seems unnatural (and a little brave) to me to lie scantily clad in a garden that is in full view of surrounding 4 story terrace houses.

But each to their pasty-skinned own i guess!

Some big news here lately has been the recent smoking ban. It is now absolutely illegal in the UK to smoke anywhere that is not completely outdoors. I have seen some amusing debates on the likes of Sky and BBC where they have pulled in a 40 a day smoker, croaking her way through the irritating consequences of the ban on her life, alongside a self-righteous loner who is happy that he will now be able to enjoy is solitary pint in smoke-free solitude. Hurrah. I must confess it was a weird novelty to get home last Saturday in the early-hours and not reek of smoke.

The other weird thing about getting home at 3.30 am, was that the sun was already rising. Now THAT dear friends, is damned hard to get used to. Especially since it is not properly dark until around 10.30pm. My jet lag (which was already fairly annoying) was made even harder to bear by my body's stubborn determination to awaken at 6am regardless of the time I went to bed. The benefits of long days however, are that, given the erratic weather, the longer the day the greater the likelihood of sunshine. (See I am starting to get fixated on the weather already!)

Running around here is not as easy as I would like - although once you get down to the river, the Chelsea Embankment is not a bad run. Unfortunately, I am out of running action for perhaps one more day as I have blisters on my heels, basically because I was stupid enough to wear new shoes when I walked to the shop. They hacked up my heels so fast it was astonishing. And given that I start work soon I don't want to aggravate them further.

Oh yeah, work. So I have a job. 3 month contract through a legal recruiter. Doing some hopefully interesting work with this organisation. ;-)

I am.....

......GOING TO SEE ANGUS AND JULIA STONE TONIGHT IN LONDON (alone probably!)

Yayayayaya.

New pics on the photostream btw.

Three Virgo's Walk Into A Bar.....

.....one says "let's make a list", the second says "well I'm going to have to be the one that writes it", the third says nothing and knows that he could do it far better than the other two. The third also orders some champagne.

I had a lovely dinner Monday night with Frilly and an old colleague of hers. We ate at a little restaurant - Tom's Kitchen - which is I think like a side-project of a famous chef. I'm sorry, I've forgotten his name but I assume it is Tom something...... Anyway, as it turns out - we were all virgos and had a relatively entertaining discussion (among others) about our shared traits. I wasn't attempting a joke with that first paragraph (well I sort of was) - but virgos in my readership will be amused I'm sure.

I ate a delicious grilled tuna nicoise salad, and consumed copious amounts of champagne, and suffered the entire day yesterday because of it. I actually did very little apart from sit transfixed as it HAILED in the middle of summer (as depicted in the video below).

Sunday night I popped over to an old school and uni friend of dad's place - who is now the Minister of State for Climate Change here. I hereby publicly vouch for his cooking - absolutely delicious - Thai Pork Chops and mushrooms. Yummmmmy!

Monday I had an interview with an agency who called me three hours later to offer me work (that didn't pay enough ;-) and then I had another interview that will potentially become work in September, once I have finished the GDLP requirements. So, things are simmering away on that front, happily.

Last night I caught a train with an old family friend, up to Cheshire and am currently writing this from his cottage. I had a lengthy conversation with him on the train about how, even though leaving Australia entails saying goodbye to for example, nice weather, great lifestyle, comparatively cheap cost of living etc - living in the UK brings new treats, such as being able to visit friends in 300 year old cottages. Yes, this house is older than post-settlement Australia.

People who have found me on Facebook (new addiction) will have noticed my current status which is "Adelle is in Cheshire, and coming to terms with the fact that living in the UK means that "weekends in Europe" is actually a phrase that exists." Yes people, I anticipate a short sojourn in Europe in the next four weeks. Honestly, the tickets are so cheap, and now with all the bombing plots etc people are a bit antsy about travelling. Not me!

My final thought for this post is on the terror stuff. I can't help but be rather envious of the way in which the Prime Minister and Home Secretary have chosen their words carefully on the subject - careful not to make statements that have the effect of demonising all Muslims. John Howard is probably champing at the bit for a plot to be foiled in Australia so that he can roll out his nasty, divisive, xenophobic rhetoric and claw his way back up a few points in the polls.

Political nuts might be surprised to hear that the NT Aboriginal Stuff has also made the news here -the mates I saw on Friday night seemed to know a fair bit about it, which was surprising.
Anyhoo, am jumping out of my skin as Kim is arriving here soon, and I get to meet Tilly (her daughter). Will put photo's on ASAP.