Tuesday, May 11 2004, 0:55

I do, I do, I do, I do, I do...

When I first got back, life seemed to crawl along at a pace that was so slow that I had too much time to mope. These days, I'm rushed off my feet! Long days at work and my determination to keep on at the gym mean that I don't get home until pretty late most days, with just enough time to eat and dash off a few emails before bed. I've always said that life's too short to waste it on household chores, so when Pete and I get our new place later this month, a cleaning person will be high on our shopping list!

So the other morning, Paul, Pete, and I zipped over to Heathrow bright and early in the morning to welcome Matt back to London; I think that maybe I'll start to associate Heathrow with smiles as much as I associate Sydney Kingsford-Smith with feeling glum, because it's great to be the first friendly face someone sees once they've made their way through the purgatory that is customs and immigration; even better - I have quite a few people to pick up from the airport this year!

It was strangely wrong and strangely right seeing Matt (and Paul) on the Tube, and even more so out dancing in Popstarz. Manuel and Craig were here last week too - they're Sydney friends who are actually Australian! And soon there'll be Warren and Tash, then Bryan, Cory, Jon, Wayne, Wally, James... It's a good thing Pete and I like guests ;)

This weekend was pretty special. Not because I had another late night at Popstarz (although I did find £20 on my way home!), but because my brother, Clive, got married on Saturday. I was feeling a bit worse for wear when I arrived in Hereford, but a quick freshen up in the toilets, and no-one was any the wiser surely... So now I have a new big sis, Tracey :) Weddings always make me a bit weepy, and Saturday was no exception. They're such odd events - how many other times do you invite people to witness you expressing your most heartfelt feelings? It's a rare glimpse of our private selves, and I always feel quite privileged to be part of that. Anyway, I could bang on about weddings for ages... suffice to say, it was great to be there, and I would have missed it if I'd been in Australia still.

Sorry about the gratuitous Abba lyric in the title...

Wednesday, May 12 2004, 16:10

Travelling cattle class

On my way to work today, I happened across another person occupying some prime personality space in my head. Not a particularly amiable person either; it's ok though, because my alter ego only takes over between home and work: that's right - I've rediscovered my Tube persona, dormant these many months.

Every morning, it seems there's someone who waits until they get to the ticket gate before digging into pocket, purse, or wallet to produce their ticket (I'm thinking of writing to London Underground to suggest the installation of electric shock barriers that zap you if you take too long to go through). On the way down to the platforms, my fellow travellers spread out across the corridors, walking at different speeds, and I inevitably get hemmed in by dawdlers - I'm surprised they can't feel my eyes boring holes into the backs of their heads or hear my inner monologue screaming, "Get out of my f**king way!" And that's not the kind of language my mum brought me up to use...

My Tube persona gets a good laugh every day on the platform. The train pulls up, a few people step out, and a great mass of people attempt to fill the vacancies. And just when most people have given up trying to wedge themselves in like cattle, some lunatic jumps in at the last minute to the shock of the people already in danger of being bruised by the closing doors. The rest of us on the platform wait with smirks on faces to see how many times the doors will try to slam shut on these exposed fools.

The Tube journey itself is pretty uneventful. My Tube persona and I always enjoy the deathly silence on the train - a quiet moment to relax and daydream before having to fight through the commuters again at our destination. When the doors finally open there, I hope someone tries to get on before I've got off, because then I can mutter loudly, righteously push them back onto the platform and shove them out of my way, to the approving murmurs of the people behind me. Hardly ever happens...

You'd think escalators would be easy. Naturally, there are the people who don't stand to the right to allow people in a hurry (like myself) to pass them on the left, but the real killer is the person who gets to the top of the escalator, steps off, and stands stock still. My first impulse is to plant both hands in the middle of their back and give a good, hard push, accompanied by, "MOVE, you f**king idiot!", but even my Tube persona is too Britishly polite, and settles for some noisy throat clearing and a gentle shove at most.

After that, it's just plain sailing through zap barriers, and then out into the daylight, where the uncharacteristic anger, aggression, and rage evaporate as Tube persona retires to a corner of my head.

Until 6.30pm...

Thursday, May 13 2004, 14:06

Vanity of the fittest

On that same journey into work, when I'm not mentally butchering the people around me, I'm watching them.

My route takes me through the City of London, and consequently, I am caught up in a whirling mass of fancy threads courtesy of Armani, Boss, Chanel, Givenchy, Gaultier, darling, names, names, names! Among the sloane rangers, yuppies, and shiny suit brigade, I stick out a little, but there are a bunch of us (trendy?) new media types working for companies that aren't dot.gone. Nevertheless, as a crowd we're united by our early adoption of expensive gadgets and inflated notions of self worth.

But even in this elite pack, there's another clique...

"Fitter, happier, more productive, comfortable, not drinking too much
Regular exercise at the gym, 3 days a week"

That's right... The gym-goers. When you join Fitness First, you get access to their well-equipped gyms all over the world, a free branded bag, branded towel, branded water bottle, and branded cap. And more importantly, you get the right to smugly lord it over the less toned specimens of humanity you walk past every day, as you tote your cute rucksack with its shiny white embroidered "Fitness First" logo, because they know and you know that you go to The Gym. You don't even have to go to The Gym, just by carrying this bag you can bludgeon the people around you with your superior athleticism.

I see a fair few of these people around London Bridge and Angel every day, wearing their branded bags like badges that read, "I'm a Better Person than you", walking with an air of self-assurance and hauteur. God, I hate them.

And once I get something to replace my own FF bag, I'll find something else to be neurotic about ;)

Thursday, May 27 2004, 0:25

Crock of sh*t

That's right, I've just been to see Van Helsing at the cinema!

Pretty damn awful. Bad acting, bad accents, bad effects, but quite enjoyable nonetheless - and with as much popcorn, tortillas, coke, and Quality Street as I could shove down my throat. Marvellous :)

But that really is the least of my news. At risk of jinxing it, I'll go ahead and tell you that I've found somewhere to live. Pete and I looked around the Docklands two weekends in a row, and finally found somewhere worth living in last Saturday. I won't bash on about it too much in case it all falls through and I have egg on my face, but if it all works out, I may even put up some pics. In the meantime you have this one, which is the famous London landmark I'll be able to see from our lounge, should it all turn out well. I'll keep an eye out for James Bond, in case he comes back...

We're just waiting on getting references checked out, and hopefully moving in on June 5th. I won't tell you what my landlord reference from Sydney said (thanks Brian!), and I certainly won't be passing on that web of lies and exaggerations (however funny) to the reference agency...

Friday, June 4 2004, 10:22

Thighmasters

Stepping back a moment or two earlier, I had a fantastic bank holiday weekend. Sam and Cameron, two friends from Sydney, were here for the weekend for Sam to play in the Bingham Cup, which is basically the gay rugby world cup. Teams from all over came to compete at Esher rugby ground over the weekend - a veritable parade of butch boys in tiny shorts! As events turned out though, I missed every one of Sam's matches, and I'm heartily ashamed. The Sydney Convicts (yes, I designed their website) smashed their way through the Kings Cross Stealers and other rival teams to be defeated in the semis in a close match with the San Francisco Fog, who went on to win the tournament.

The majority of the players during the games were big, burly chaps, with thighs like tree trunks, and it certainly made enjoyable viewing - especially Sydney's very own cheeky streaker...

But the reason I missed the boys was because I was doing vital casework for future Sydney visitors by visiting two different clubs over the long weekend. I had a fab time at Action on Saturday, and I was pleased to catch up with Sam & Cam after DTPM on Monday morning - hanging out at Tony's place and loitering around a pub in Canary Wharf. What better way to while the weekend away?