Dating Tips Revisited

Ok people. If you have a squeamish cringe-worthy stomach, turn away now. The following is an account of a date that has provided me with SO MUCH material, I don't know where to start. And B**, if you're reading, I don't mean you, am looking forward to seeing you again!

Hoke (ok pronounced with a Sth American accent)...

I meet up with this guy at a salsa club. We are chatting for an hour....everything seems above board.....then it took a turn for the worse.

Point of realisation when I thought 'uh-oh....I've got a live one here', was when he announced he doesn't wear underwear BUT.....he keeps himself clean!!!!!

At this stage, Preston is thinking, '......hoke...a slight blip on my shit radar...but I allow for 1 to 2 errors so will give him the benefit that it was a wayward comment, that will never be matched again.

Point of first snog contact? Immediately after I reported that I love baby octopus, char-grilled with chili and lime?????? He literally launched at me! I was wrong-footed totally! In his defense, he was a great kisser, which I encouraged for the rest of the evening, safely knowing that I may never see this guy again. Hey, a girls got needs.

Also, I realised that I have a natural ability to salsa. Phew!! Was worried about that as I recall being on a dreaded salsa date a couple of years back. A date where I can only describe my dance style as 'ironing-board like'.

But, I digress, back to the date! Hoke....... So, we are dancing for hours, up close, having fun, when he whispers in my ear....'let me love you tonight'......

Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh......come on!! That's soooooo cheesy!

Gotta say though. Salsa clubs are complete 'meat markets'. Every time I went to the ladies I was grabbed, propositioned, pelvic-thrusted etc, etc, etc. To be serious, I found the experience quite eye-opening, and a little scary at times. The sheer 'liberties' some men will take in those situations are endless.

Again, I digress.Getting back to my cheesy Argentinian date. I think there is a complete culture difference between us. Maybe the 'let me love you tonight' comment would go down well with a feisty Latin-American woman. With me, it had me inwardly making like Munch's 'The Scream'.

And at 38yrs old, when someone says to me '...come back to my place, nothing has to happen....', well...... hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

Can we make it very clear at this point, I went home alone and sober.....(sober from lack of alcohol consumption....not from the the very sobering comments from my 'wanna-be' Latin lover).


Oh....and one last things guys. If you're gonna lie, at least do it well.

Don't......
1. Lie about your height on the website......women notice if you're wearing pumps. I have had the experience, in the past, of meeting up with the shortest 5'11 guy ever!

2. If you message a girl, and your profile says your 36, then....say a day before you meet up with that girl, change your profile age to 33....then, when you meet up, announce your 37........when you actually look like you're in your 40's.........well, need I say more? Really????

Completely Unmotivated and Mooching Around House

Cant be bothered writing today. Am tired, hung over, tired. Just cant be arsed! So instead of firing up any synapses, I will simply direct all my adoring fans to some silly, crazy and downright rude sites. Enjoy.

Dick Cheney a Killer?



Arse or Elbow?


Are You a Real Man?


When Will You Die?



Have fun guys!

One small step for White society....One large foot on the head of a drowning ethnic minority.


I find it a supreme irony that Sir Ian Blair is pointing the finger at the British media and screaming Institutional Racism, given the appalling history of the Metropolitan Police.

Black people are SIX TIMES more likely to be stopped and searched. Why? Is the ratio of black to white crime so disproportionate that this tactic is necessary? That would be impossible, as according to the National statistics website,(as of 20th Feb. 06), 92.1% of the population are white!

Ok.....he has a point. I just love it when the media reports 'black on black' crime as if to say....look now....... they're doing it to each other!

Why is it that crimes where ethnic minorities are the victim, receive less coverage then white victim crime? Has anyone ever read a reference to white on white crime?

In 1999, commissioner Condon acknowledged that there was indeed institutional racism in the force. Unfortunately, he also tried to create a diversion away from this ingrained prejudice by suggesting that there is much in-fighting between minority groups. God.......how to sidestep, back-peddle and incite racial hatred in one ignorant instance!

The following is an action plan adopted by the Met in 1999.

How to create an anti-racist police force(in 5 easy steps)
By Paul Condon (Met police chief), David Wilmot (Manchester police) and John Newing (Derbyshire police)


1.'I have sinned'
Organise a press conference and confess your sins. Admit that 'like society, Greater Manchester Police has institutionalised racism'. Admit that your police stop and search a disproportionate number of black people. Refuse to comment on any specific cases of police racism. Say you're doing your best to end police racism.


2.'Listen to the people'
Organise meetings around the country to listen to the views of the people. Make sure that the meetings are stage-managed so that they are dominated by local authority groups and the police themselves rather than providing a forum for local people to relate their experiences.


3.'Turn the tables'
Whenever possible turn the tables on the critics. Instead of responding to accusations of racism, present evidence of conflict between different ethnic groups, eg Muslims and Sikhs in west London. Use this to reject critics of the police as having a 'narrow and simplistic' view of racial conflict.


4.'Bring in management consultants'
Bring in a private management consultant firm to provide specialist police 'race relations training'. Get '6 million over three years from the Home Office to 'integrate community and race relations awareness' throughout the national police training curriculum. Meanwhile continue to make cutbacks to community-based racism monitoring groups.

5.'Organise a conference'
Then organise a conference called 'Working Together Towards An Anti-Racist Police Service'. Invite VIP guests from outside the police to discuss how the police can be made into an anti-racist force. Invite delegates to take part in 'facilitated group discussions' on such subjects as 'anti-racist stop and search operations'. Pretend that the conference will make a difference.

So, what we have is two major parties in bed with each other, flagrantly flipping the bird to ethnic minorities whilst pointing the finger at each other in a 'It wasn't me' gesture!

Breaking up and Breaking Out!!!!!!!


Speaking with my close friend A, this morning, I discovered that he is going through a break-up. Sorry A. What a dreadful time that can be. A time where it is rare that both parties are going through the same emotions. The 'breakee' is usually looking for answers whereas the 'breaker', (although possibly battling with their decision), is still likely to be getting a decent night's sleep.

Of course I have been in both situations.

It's so hard to get it right isn't it? To find someone who not only makes you weak at the knees, yet understands you, knows what 'makes you tick' and is your closest friend and confidant. So many ingredients. So few good cooks.

But, enough with the melancholy....... that's just for wimps!!!!



Breaking up is hard to do...especially when you share the same major!
written by ADAM LASNIK

PSYCHOLOGY: Girl accuses guy of just using her as a substitute for his
Mother.
SOCIOLOGY: Each claims to have been oppressed in the relationship.
RELIGION: Each prays for reconcilliation and/or curses God
ARCHAEOLOGY: One tries to bury the past, and accuses the other of trying
to dig it up.
THEATRE: "OH MY GOD! Life is... ENDED... as we KNOW it!"
BIOLOGY: "You just wanted to get in my genes!"
PHYSICS: Both resign themselves to the fact that what goes up must
come down.
JOURNALISM: "Today was the end of an era. Jack, 19, and Jill, 18, called
an end to their relationship of 2 weeks..."
WOMEN'S STUDIES: "HE did it!"
BUSINESS: Both decide that they're spending way too much money
together, and that it's simply cheaper to be single.
ITALIAN: "Mama Mia!"
HISTORY: Each party argues the breakup was caused by something the
other party did in the past.
GEOGRAPHY: Both people decide to simply move far away to avoid each
other.
ANATOMY: "I never liked your body anyway."
ECONOMICS: One party demands more than the other can supply.
ENGLISH: Each writes the other a perfect breakup letter, complete with
introduction, thesis, body, and conclusion, that doesn't
really say anything substantively intelligible.
EDUCATION: Both concede that the relationship was a learning experience.
COMPUTING: "Man, this bytes -- we just couldn't interface" and/or
"His hard drive was more like a floppy."
E. ENGINEER.: "It's just so shocking... I'm sure there are positives and
negatives, but..." [okay, yes, I know you're groaning ;-)]
ARCHITECTURE: "There just wasn't much to build on anyway..."
JEWISH STUDIES: "OY! You should feel so guilty!"
PHILOSOPHY: If 2 people break up in a dorm and there's no one to witness
the breakup, are they really single?
ZOOLOGY: They were able to mate like banshees, but lacked
sophisticated communication skills.
PHYS. ED.: They punch each other out in frustration.
CHEMISTRY: They turn to hard drugs to relieve the pain.
COUNSELING: Each urges the other to "get help!"
MUSIC: Each utilizes an operatic lament (or, in Tennessee, a country
song) to express his or her sorrow.
LAW: They sue each other for breach of a pre-dating agreement.

Enough said! Cheer up A....and when I'm out there again (hopefully not too far away), we will have a beer and 'dis' him till our hearts content!!!!

Oh........ The Embarrassment!

Thinking back to my illustrious history of embarrassing moments, I can recall several stand out moments. One time, whilst on the tube during peak hour, I felt the eyes of many on me. Thinking myself paranoid, I shrugged it off. But......there was something wrong and I felt it. Getting off that packed tube, I bent down to pick up my bag, only to notice not one, but two strategically placed buttons open on my blouse. Oh the shame! All those lascivious 'suits' staring at my very exposed cleavage! Not even a 'sister' lent over and suggested that I was exhibiting flesh. Thank Christ I had a really nice bra on.

A friend of mine realised, after having walked the distance from Town Hall to Wynyard, (along one of Sydney's busiest streets), that she had done so with her mid-thigh skirt tucked securely into her black pantyhose, exposing her pantyhose-clad arse. A distance of about 1.5km! Bastards! Not one slight tap on her shoulder accompanied by an 'ahem, you might want to re-address your post-toilet skirt tuck there'.

Yet neither of these 'Kodak moments' compare to the embarrassment that happened yesterday at the Winter Olympics.

Lindsey Jacobellis. Tut...tut...tut...tut.

Guaranteed Gold medal. On her second last jump in the snowboardcross, decides to do, (what I have on good authority is called), a 'backside method grab'. Loses it, coming down on her 'showy-offy ass', giving the lead away and going from gold to silver in one fabulously flawed swoop.

How can she ever show her face again! That's the equivalent of the 'pantyhose saga' being done at the Oscars.

All I can say is better her than me.

Australian Princess

I'm sitting here watching yet another reality tv show called Australian Princess. God knows what they win, who cares really? Somehow a reality show without an elimination element, personal challenges, tears and bitchslap-worthy judges, just isn't a reality show. Of course, they're clinging to the bootstraps of the real life story......

Australia's claim to royalty fame? A fairytale meeting in a trendy Sydney bar, leads to a romance between a Danish prince and a girl-next-door Sydney chick, eventually leading to marriage and world fame.

Ahem. Translated.

Danish prince, on the pull, meets horny Sydney chick at....wait for it....the 'Slip Inn'. They end up married, giving the entire of Australia a delusion of royal grandeur. One can only imagine (and shudder), about how many times the Australian press have referred to her as Cinderella.

Australia has a habit of doing this. Adopting people. Sports men and women, celebrities or indeed any person who can raise the profile of my dear country.
Lleyton Hewitt’s ex-girlfriend Kim Cluisters is Australia’s adopted daughter, after having dated Hewitt for a couple of years. Screw the adoption….give the girl a medal for putting up with that ignorant tennis brat.

Russell Crowe Australian? Think again. He’s a Kiwi. His passport is Kiwi. But aaaaah he lives in Australia now and, well, he sounds Aussie…….so we’ll have him thanks. Yet as soon as he...... say…….throws a telephone at a hotel concierge…….well, he is referred to as the ‘fiery New Zealander’.

I do love that about us Aussie’s. The ‘maybe they wont notice’ approach to things. The ‘if we say it with confidence they will believe it’ approach. I use it all the time with great results.

Getting back to the original argument, I find Australia’s infatuation with royalty saddening. We are still a constitutional monarchy, after (in 1999), 55% of the population voted to retain the monarchy over the creation of a Republic. Of course, Prime minister Howard voted to retain the monarchy, therefore practically sealing the fate of the referendum before a vote was cast. I guess I will always be a labour party supporter. I will always believe that the strength of a country lies in its people and its culture.


"It is needless to spend much time in exposing the folly of hereditary right. If there are any so weak as to believe in it, let them promiscuously worship the ass and lion, and welcome. I shall neither copy their humility, nor disturb their devotion." Thomas Paine. Common Sense. Published 1776

Tighty tight tight Lycra

Yet again the time has come to sink into the sofa with a cup of strong coffee and marvel at how grown people can pull off the tight fluro-coloured lycra look without being boo-hooed off the world stage.

It's Winter Olympics time again!

Where fashion leaves nothing to the imagination, showing every muscle(yes....every one!), every ripple, every curve. A weight watching nightmare to boot! It's just one long anatomy lesson in technicolour.

Which brings me to a couple of events which defy sanity. Firstly, the ski jump. A 100 meter ramp, which skiers launch themselves off in a 'human cannonball' style, landing around 100 meters down the slope.

Sheer madness! What brings these people to the point where they think...'yeah...that's a good idea..'Are they driven by some wild deathwish? My theory is, any sport which requires a full helmet, yet doesn't require a vehicle, is insane.

The Luge? Reaching speeds of 130 km/hr on a sled. Hurtling down an oversized drainpipe(once again in lycra), with the only thing separating them from death being a full face helmet and what looks to me like sheer luck. The closest I've got to this would be my athletic water slide days. I didn't need a helmet though.

Maybe countries which impose capital punishment could make a sport out of it. Instead of the modes being lethal injection, electric chair, or firing squad, we could see Luge, ski jump, and Super G. Candlelight vigils outside prisons would be a thing of the past,replaced by people holding scorecards trackside.

Just a thought.

Woman Seeks gay Man

I was sitting around last night, scoffing down some dinner and knocking back a glass of very lovely Chilean Shiraz, talking to my flatmate 'Thomas',(an American chick who has moved from the states to London to marry my other flatmate 'Young').....and we got to talking.

She, like me, has a bevy of gay male friends back in her country of origin, and we were laughing at some comments they had posted on her blog. I started telling her a story about when I went to a Drag Ball, (another story to tell you all), with a couple of my close mates.

We both agreed that indeed we are a couple of 'Fag Hags'. Suddenly, the penny dropped and I blurted out....."Oh my god.......we are Fagless Fag Hags...." All our gay mates are back in our respective birth countries, but we are yet to make any gay friends here! God, I knew something was missing in my life, but who knew?

And now we are both faced with the predicament.....we have to find gay boyfriends. Thomas suggested we put out an ad in the personals. I suggested we 'trawl' a couple of the bars on Old Compton Street.

If I had a gay boyfriend here, my life would definitely have taken a different turn. Firstly, they would have NEVER let me leave the house in several of the outfits I have worn in the past. It would have been ".....nah-hah girlfriend....not with those shoes and jacket...."

I would of had a party to celebrate watching the Eurovision Song Contest and people would have actually come to it! I would have had a guy to cry my 'men woes' to, who would have empathisized - 'sweetie....they're ALL BASTARDS!' I would get free haircuts.... I would have a guy to go out dancing with who can actually dance (as opposed to the embarrassing shuffle I have witnessed from my hetero-male friends).And the list goes on.

If there are any gay men out there, for gods sake, put the gay word out. Thomas and I are desperate!

Make Mine a Super Delux


Chatting online to a girlfriend this morning got me to thinking about men (yet again I hear you say).

She was describing a guy she had started seeing. After meeting online, knowing each other for several months, and having met up a few times, he is now moving from Brisbane to Sydney to 'set up shop' with her.

The conversation went something like this (please excuse unsavoury subject matter):

Preston: well...before too long, you will be picking his skidmark undies outta the laundry bin on washing day.
Girlfriend: Actually, he is a neat freak so he will probably be picking up my skiddies.
Preston: Great!...you got the latest model, with inbuilt cleaner......I want one of those
Girlfriend: It's a selling point....believe me!

This got me to thinking. How great would it be if men came in models. I mean, you could just set out your market criteria, and search for the make and model that best suits your needs. Ebay would never be the same!

The following is a breakdown of models as I see them.....

B401 Upright man....1200W motor, microfresh filtering system, does dishes, puts out garbage, can do up own shoelaces.

ARG101-2 Upright, 1200W motor, in built deodoriser, cooks simple meals, hangs towel up after using, remembers your birthday..

T5200E 1600W motor,fully automative, including cooking, cleaning and garbage disposal modes. Offers massages, is sexually unselfish, laughs at my jokes, romantic, thoughful, marches alongside me against the social injustices in the world, and makes a killer cheesecake and carrot cake....

Ok....I admit, I'm coming across as something of a misandrist, but I have had my fair share of duds!

Fortunately boys, I do love men. It's one of those things. Us women complain about you, but in the end, if you didn't annoy us from time to time, there would be no-one to ridicule when on girls nights out!

Disclaimer All model numbers coincide with vacuum cleaner makes. Any similarity is purely coincidental.

Folks.........We have a rival!!


I just love a good film. I also equally love a bad one. But not just bad. Unbelievably bad. The kind of bad, that after watching it, you have a satisfied feeling in your stomach, knowing that you have just experienced something truly horrific. Something that you can host parties around, set competitions to and award prizes for. Prizes like...most fluffed line, most cringeworthy moment, most overacted facial expression and last but not least most tragic scriptwriting.

My most loved bad movie is of course Showgirls. I will never forget my friend Tim, prepping me for the impending theatrical disaster by daring me to pick out the defining moment which heralded to me how truly bad this movie was about to be.

I watched it with about 8 other people, all crammed into a small lounge room in the inner city suburb of Erskineville (Sydney). We often had to pause the movie for not being able to hear the dialogue over the laughing. Funny thing that, as there was not one intentional funny moment in the whole film. The whole experience, with tears streaming down our cheeks whilst awaiting the next 'clanger' of a line, was truly fulfilling.

Upon comparison, several of us had different defining moments. Mine was when Elizabeth Berkley, in complete overact mode, threw herself onto the top of a car crying, with her fries and coke flying everywhere. Terrible....just terrible. My friend Tim's defining moment was, after being hit on by a driver who had picked her up hitchhiking, she pulled a flick knife on him. That girl could not act her way out of a New Zealand soap I tell ya.

So, it is with great joy, that I announce that I think we have a rival! Oh yes, Showgirls may well have an evil twin. Now, it may be slightly premature of me to report this, but from what I've seen, it has all the markings of a true clanger.

Its name is Domino. I caught about 40minutes of it on a recent long haul flight. Apparently what I was watching was a directors cut.

The premise of the film goes along the lines of....poor affected ex-catwalk model, public schooly and rich girl becomes a blood thirsty bounty hunter. Sounding good isn't it? Get this.......Keira Knightly plays lead.

Fabulous moments
1. Keira in teenage distant deep thinker mode, sitting on the edge of the pool in their beverly Hills mansion playing with numchuckers and perfecting her ninja style knife throwing technique.

2. Keira (in a flashback) being bumped on the catwalk by a fellow model and reacting by dragging her to the ground by her hair.

3. Keira defusing a mexican stand off involving about 20 guns, by offering the head crim a lap dance


Just APPALLING!

What could really seal the fate of this flick??? You guessed it. Mickey Rourke co-stars.

Now...i must admit. I had to turn it off after 40min as I was so tired and felt that this was a flick I would have to watch with friends. But if the first 40min is anything to go by...why friends...we have a gem on our hands

Dating the Modern Way

I can recall a time when dating consisted of being introduced to someone through a friend. Not very technical, yet it seemed to work. Modes for dating also consisted of meeting people through.....joining a class, playing a sport, meeting at a party...just to name a few. Very sound ways for meeting people because, on the chance that its not love at first site, you can often get a few 'goes' at getting to know them. More often than not, one didn't realise that friends had set them up.Due to the stealth-like qualities of my friends, it was only realised way into the night when, upon perusing the crowd, I would find that yes.....indeed only two of us seem to be single. I really hate set ups....you know the ones....where at a dinner party it is painfully obvious that the guy sitting opposite you is a 'plant'.....single, willing....actually very single and too willing. And yet, this situation still enables you to be polite, excuse yourself and slip away from the situation with both participants with dignity intact.

So........I hear you say....get to the point.

Well........for the past few years, I have been 'resorting' to internet and phone dating. And folks, its a social jungle out there.

A couple of months ago, I got back on a couple of sites after some time in hibernation. I feel the need to point out some absolute no-nos done by some of the men on the sites.

Absolute No-Nos

1. Your main photo should not EVER include a prop. My definition of prop covers basically anything that isn't the guy. For example, guns, fish, dogs, cats, fishing rods, cars, children, ex-girlfriends, propellor planes and superhero capes. What earthly reason would lead a guy to post a photo of himself leaning against the bonnet of a car toting a rifle? A photo where you are holding your girlfriend, yet, have just erased her face from the shot screams....and I quote "....You took away the headstones but you left the bodies....." (Poltergeist 1982).

2. Dont ever wear plaid in the photo. Why on earth should you alert the girl to poor dress sense even before meeting them? Wait till the first date, where possibly you can win her over with witty repartee.

3. Semi naked photos are wrong....just wrong. Poor taste guys. It screams 'love myself' and 'you've got buckleys of me loving you more than I love myself'.

4. In your write up, dont just simply use 50 adjectives to describe yourself. Eg affectionate, solvent, confident, adventurous. It's just a wank. Adventurous? Adventurous in what? Do you trek mountains or just cross the road when the red light is flashing?

5. When stating what you want in a woman, try not to make it too shallow. Quoting body measurements is just plain rude. Stating that you dont do fat,plump or slightly overweight will not only limit you to less than 50% of the women on the site, yet rule out those with slim figures on the basis that they think you're a wank,(well....it does for me anyway).

What I look for in a guy? A write up that gives me a little glimpse of them. Whether it be a hang up they have or a passion for something. I like men who are creative, intelligent, kind and gentle. Guys where it is a possibility they will cry in a movie. Its not a pre-requisite though....they only have to seem like they will.

It is not uncommon for me to find the same men on the sites that I did several years ago, still with the same photos(toting guns, fish and girlfriends). With any luck, they will read this blog and realise the error of their ways!!!

So all up, I will continue my intrepid search for a man who will both put up with me whilst truly believing I'm fabulous.

Footballers or Brats?


I love football. It's a beautiful game. Somehow, growing up in Australia, I developed a love of the game as a child. Those of you unfamiliar with the sports culture of Australia, and in particular, the culture in the 70's and 80's, should note that football at that time was not a loved sport. we were inundated with Rugby League and cricket. I tried to watch League but found it clumsy and brash. The season seemed to last forever with the only reprieve arriving in summer with a 'caseload' of cricket.

My brother and I were limited to a one hour show on a Sunday morning which gave an overview of all the weeks matches. For some reason, the FA Cup final was always televised live even though none of the years cup fixtures had been televised! I would stay up late, surrounded by newspaper paraphanalia commenting on match and player stats, and yell my heart out at the screen.

At about age 13, I began buying the english magazines Shoot and Match, reading voraciously about the players and clubs. I developed crushes on several players. This I could not talk about with my girlfriends as a) they wouldn't of had any idea who these guys were, and b) they didn't belong to the bands Duran Duran or Adam and the Ants!
My love for the game probably started as a seed planted in my head from my mothers stories of living in England and the fact that although she lived kilometres from the football field, could hear the fans singing and chanting like they were next door. I remember thinking, '....no way mum, that couldn't happen....they're only singing...'. How little I knew!

So, why have I titled this blog 'Footballers or Brats', I hear you ask. Well. I was watching the Chelsea v Liverpool match yesterday. The game was a good one with tight passing and lots of shots on goal from both sides. Yet, in the closing minutes of the match an incident occurred which disapointed me greatly. Jose Reina (Liverpool keeper), made a fair challenge on Eidur Gudjohnson (Chelsea forward) Shortly after, Chelsea winger Arjen Robben, whilst walking behind Reina, provoked him to turn around and shove him in the face. Ok, I dont condone that shove but we need to put this in perspective. It was a little shove. I would be surprised if it would even knock a 5 yr old off balance! But what happened? Arjen Robben went to ground, holding his face and making a 'meal of it'.

The guy I was with, who happens to be a Rugby Union fan, made the comment,"...that would never happen in Rugby...". And let's face it, it wouldn't. It embarrases me that grown men, with incredible skill, combine this with such amateur theatrics. Ok...its a contact sport, so people are going to be tackled. They are going to go down. But this overcompensation they seem to have adopted over the years is getting out of hand. I think they should be yellow and indeed red carded more often for this.

With the World Cup coming up, I reckon I will run a competition for the best 'dive'. I will award the player with the most elaborate and uncalled for dive, with an award(I am yet to come up with a name for it yet), and will award the country with the highest average of dives an award too.

Wow...what to write? The skies the limit. But I must ask myself.....who would possibly read this?

So, I just returned back to my (now) home, London the other day after having returned to my original home, Sydney, for a 5 week visit. Now I must ask myself, where is home, where is my heart, where is my future?
In Oz I feel so free, so alive. I feel confident that I am surrounded by people who truly love me. Yet i crave the culture and history that I am surrounded by daily in London. I often jump on my bike and travel around marvelling at the incredible old buildings, luscious parks, the interesting people..........

So i guess its a case of, watch this space!!!

Incredibly poor attempt at a pick up line inflicted on me last night......" have your eyes always been such an amazing blue....."
Ok...the guy was trying...yeah right....trying to be an ass!!! I mean really, how was he supposed to recover from my obvious reaction of horror. Now....guys out there reading this may be 'poo-pooing' me as I speak....branding me a heartless emasculating bitch, but I guess my inability to cope with the initial mating rituals that indeed, once navigated, may lead to a meaningful relationship, has rendered me the career single that I am today!!!!