So, I haven't posted on here for a while. Had a few things going on... At the end of it all though, (not that it's the end yet, in fact, it's far from it, but at least I have some clear brain-space now) I've been doing my usual over-analysis of everything. Not sure whether this over-analysis thing is a trait of my Virgoan nature, if I was predisposed to believe in that stuff, or whether it's just cos I'm a girl :oP. Maybe it's just 'because'.

Anyway, I'm not going to go into details because this isn't about this specific situation, so much as 'doing the Right Thing' generally, but my dilemma has been thus:

"How do I know that I am doing the Right Thing?"

Most of the time it's pretty easy to do the Right Thing. We make those decisions every day without even really thinking about it. Being aware of other people's needs, being friendly, caring and helpful, whether you know someone or not, is generally hard-wired into most decent people. Even if we do the Wrong Thing, which we sometimes all do, often through no fault of our own, or a lack of foresight or thought, in the long run it usually doesn't matter. People get over things. We all have to experience some sad or hurtful times, and we get let down by people. That's life, as the song goes.

But for more serious or less run-of-the-mill matters I guess it depends on whose perspective you're looking at it from. Is it the Right Thing for me? Or the Right Thing for the other someone? Hmmmm. And what if one impacts on the other? And what if people's lives could be affected by the outcome of doing the supposed Right Thing?

First of all the immediate impact had to be dealt with. Yes, this was the Right Thing for everyone. Tick.

Then the short-medium term impact....here it gets more woolly. Someone is Very Not Happy. It would be easy to change the situation, but sooner or later, the liklihood is that we would all be back in the same boat. Recommendations have been made and many long phone conversations have been had. People are still sure that we're doing the Right Thing. Someone is trying to convince us otherwise. It's hard to know who to listen to. On balance, it's probable that we are still doing the Right Thing, despite it being pretty upsetting and sometimes hard to deal with. But it's getting easier.

The worst thing is the helplessness, not knowing how long this is going to go on for, and the fact that for someone like me, who likes to be able to solve problems and get on with stuff, I am fresh out of ideas. For now anyway.

As far as the long-term outlook goes, that's still a mystery right now, and though I'm sure there
will be other stumbling blocks on the way, but we're all very hopeful for the future.

Gosh I'm philosophical today. Sorry this has been a bit maudlin!

By the way, I also think that there is too much caffeine in my new coconut tea. Pants.

I read in the Metro newspaper the other day (so it must be true) two stories that just do not give me much hope for the state of the US or the UK, quite frankly.

The first story was around two boys of two and three years old, who drove their toy car down six, count 'em, SIX blocks in a town in America, watched by their neighbours. The boys apparently got stopped by the police when they manged to get onto, and start driving down the highway. Makes me question greatly WHY ON EARTH didn't the neighbours stop these kids as they were driving down the road in their mini car thing? As some would say "Only in America!".
Or is it.

Because just a couple of stories down the page was a classic about the leaking House of Commons roof. It's apparently going to cost £250 million to repair, and all the MPs have to decide is whether they move out of the House of Commons whilst it's being fixed. They would move to the Queen Elizabeth Conference Centre, which is just down the road. To help them towards their decision, someone has come up with the following figures; if they move out, the roof will be fixed in two to three years, if they decide to stay, it will take 25 years to fix, since it can only be done during the summer recess. And guess what? The MPs are going to debate it for three years before they decide. FFS! If they moved out tomorrow, it would be done and dusted in the same time it would have taken them to 'debate' it. Maybe I should just go and tell them to move out.

Makes me so mad!

"A WOULD-BE shoplifter squirted her breast milk at a store detective when he tried to stop her pinching goods. The woman exposed her breasts, and fired away after being confronted at a Co-op store. The attack in Leicester is thought to be the latest in a trend in which theives try to get their DNA on security officers so they can accuse them of sexual attacks if caught. Graham Collins, of security company Citywatch, said "It started off with people picking their noses until they bled and then accusing staff of assault." Metro newspaper 26th September 2007

What IS the world coming to? It's madness I tells ya.

So I'm safely ensconced in my new flat. I don't have any carpets, or a fridge-freezer, or a washing machine, or a cooker. But I'm here, I've got a bed and an internet connection and it's all good!

Or is it.

I'd only been in the flat for a couple of nights. I'd hired a van to move my stuff from storage and roped a couple of lovely friends in to help me. Saturday's move all went well, we were tired but got pretty much everything moved in. Just a few bits left in storage and I had to go to my mum's to pick up a table and chairs. I got up the next day, only to find that some b*stard had thrown a breezeblock through the window of the hired van, and also smashed the windscreen. Glass everywhere.

Not pleased.

I went back upstairs and moped around for a bit. Of course I was annoyed, but also a bit worried. I was hoping that it wasn't a personal attack, but there were four other cars in the car park, including mine, and none of them were touched.

A couple of hours later I caught the dog weeing in the flat. At that point everything was still new to her and she hadn't worked out where she was allowed to go. Needless to say, I picked her up and chucked her out of the front door. Which shut firmly behind me. I'm sure you get the picture, the dog and me one side of the door and my keys the other side of the door. (This is obviously no-ones fault but my own, although I did try and blame it on the dog.) Despite being a skinny so-and-so, even my stick-like hand couldn't reach far enough through the letter box to be able to unlock the door from the inside so I was obliged to call out a locksmith. He promptly got a bit of plastic from his bag of tricks, slid it down the doorframe and popped the lock open. £140 please. Kerching. I expect any one of my neighbours could have done the same thing (not that I'm casting aspersions about the area in which I live of course).

By this point I've well and truly had enough of the day. I took the dog for a walk, hoping that would calm me down a bit. She ran in a big circle round me, the lead tightened around my bare legs, and now I have about seven inches of rope burn on my calves. Good job it's not hot enough to want to wear a skirt this year.

Anyway, I'm hoping that that was my three bits of bad luck that day (or, even better, for the whole year!)

Insurance to pay for smashed windows of van = £260
Cost to pay a guy to break and enter into my flat = £140
Cost of hurt pride and angry feelings = priceless

For those of you still reading, it doesn't get much better....

Before I left my previous flat, I asked BT to reconnect at my new place. At least I'd have dial-up... But when I moved in, no dial-tone. Eventually I discovered that not only did the previous owners disconnect from BT, they also removed all the BT wiring! I was informed by a nice lady at BT that they could reconnect it all free of charge, since it wasn't me who removed it. I just had to perform one test to make sure the line was definitely dead, which it was. I called back in the afternoon to ask them to come in to reconnect and was told that it would be £116 call-out fee plus an hourly rate for the work. I pretty much cancelled my account with BT straight away, but not before having a heated discussion with one of their staff in the 'Customer Services' department, who 'didn't want to enter into a debate about this' because there definitely WAS a call-out fee and not only that but it wasn't £116 it was £128 (yup you're really selling it to me, love). Right-hand doesn't know what left-hand is doing, anyone??? I was told to expect a final bill, which I could dispute once I got it. I said I would be doing so.

The bill arrived today. £79.36. Laugh? I nearly died. £70 for stoppage of services before the minimum term has expired. 1) I wasn't ever informed there was a minimum term 2) I wasn't ever informed that there would be a £70 cancellation fee (and for a service that wasn't even usable in the first place it's laughable quite frankly).

I called BT and told them I wasn't paying the bill. A nice lady said 'I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time', and let me off paying it. Dunno what she means by 'this time', it's not like I'll be going back to BT anytime soon so there is unlikly to be a 'next time'...

Ahhh, I feel better now. If you've read this far, congratulations, you're a good person.

Whoever would have thought that writing a blog would be so cathartic, and that moving house would be such a hassle.

Due to the wet weather and 'warm' temperatures, apparently slugs have reached record numbers this year. One poor sod found 1000 slugs in 1 square metre. Last year the average was 35 slugs per square and this year it's 61. What's more, they are about to BREED! A nightmare for farmers, and for people like me who hate stepping on the slimey molluscs...

Read the full article here, from The Times newspaper:

At least the slugs are enjoying the weather
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/weather/uk_and_roi/article2303151.ece

Ok I finally got around to finsihing off this post - looong overdue!

Well I spent most of my first week back after I returned from Morocco not knowing what day it was, so when I discovered quite by accident that it was already Thursday my glee at only being one day away from the weekend already was tinged with a smidgin of worry that I may not have got enough work done this week. How can I have been back for FOUR whole days already?

Everyone keeps asking me what the highlights of Morocco were. I'll give you a brief taster and some statistics for your digestion. Enjoy!

Highlights:

1. Watching the day-time activities in Djemaa el Fna transfer to the night-time madness, and eating BBQ at the meat stalls at night
   
2. The first taste of the madness that characterises the Souks in Fes: think medieval film set, or something from the Life of Brian, complete with full sights, sounds and smell sensory overload
3. The dark and winding alleyways of the cities that seem so foreboding when you first arrive somewhere yet rapidly become 'home'
4. The immense warmth of the vast majority of the Moroccan people that we met
5. The "dancing grandad" Berber - one of the two people I wish I had taken a photo of
6. Mohammed the one-legged taxi driver - the other person I wish I'd taken a photo of
7. The chilled-out Cascades D'Ouzoude
   

Number of hours spent in the air: 7
Number of hours spent on a nice air-conditioned train: 8
Number of hours spent in a hot, cramped bus: 24 (2 with a woman being sick beside me and her child on my lap)

Items lost:

• Shoes (last seen at Cascades D'Ouzoude)
• Passport (last seen at in Fes)
• Scarf (last seen wrapped around my legs in the back of Mohammed's taxi)

Items found:

• Passport (sent from the lovely Mr Chadhli, manager of a museum in Fes to the Honourary British Consulate in Marrakech)
• Chilled out waterfalls in Cascades D'Ouzoude
• One very cool wooden doorstop in Essaouira, bank wouldn't give me any cash though, so I need to make a return trip to buy it!
  

Crikey, where to start?

I caught the train back from Fes to Marrakech, seven hours in a semi air-conditioned compartment. It was pretty luxurious compared to the bus on the way there and MUCH better than South-West trains!

Marrakech seems about ten degrees hotter than when I left it, but compared to the madness that is Fes, it is like a haven of tranquility, in fact I feel like I'm coming home! There was no room at the Essaouira Hotel so I slept out on the terrace again, which was pretty cool, once the Moroccan rap festival nearby had finished.

The next day we visited a few of the other sights of Marrakech, although I feel like I've seen pretty much everything there is to see now. What I wasn't quite prepared for though, was the heart-rending yet incredibly humourous sight of two beggers, obviously both a little bit 'gone', begging from each other! One on the floor, the other leaning over him, with a stick for support. The first man silently asked the second for money, who knocked his hand away before asking the first one for money, before the whole thing began again...

We were planning on getting a bus to the Ourika Valley today but the guide books seem to have got that wrong - no buses go up there so we hired a taxi in the end, after a bit of a row with a surly taxi driver who tried to convince us it would cost 450dh. We negotiated him down to 300dh in the end, but not before a hasty and worried discussion on the relative merits of hiring a one-legged taxi driver for the day. Yes - you heard me right... Anyway, Mohammed the one-legged taxi driver proved to be excellent company and pointed out with very good humour, all the sights we could see on the way up the valley. A good and chilled out day was spent in and around the river and waterfalls of Setti Fatma and we spun it out as long as possible before having to head off back to Marrakech. Mohammed didn't mind either - he was playing cards and smoking with his mates. It turned out he lost his leg 14 years ago - a car ran into him when he was on his way to school and he had to have it amputated.

We piled back into Mohammeds taxi just as the rain started to fall in the valley. I never thought I'd be happy to feel rain, and it made it more poignant knowing that back in the UK the constant rain is becoming a major problem. The day got more and more surreal as it became clear that the cigarette Mohammed was smoking was of the more 'herbal' variety, and that he was slightly stoned! Not only that but he decided that we needed some English tunes on the way home so he put on his 'mix tape' that a friend made him, which turned out to be some kind of happy hardcore dance. We pulled into the centre of Marrakech with Mohammed really getting into 'Zombie' by the Cranberries. The fact that he was joyfully singing the chorus with his eyes shut, whilst he was driving was a slight worry, but we just chalked it down to the incredibly random day but immensely enjoyable day we just had!

What else can I tell you? Hmmmm, well some of you won't be surprised to hear that I finally succumbed to the lure of the pizza last night, and it was GREAT! Others won't be surprised to hear that I have mislaid a couple of items; 1) a pair of brown shoes, last seen four days ago at Cascades D'Ouzoude and rather more vitally 2) my passport. However, no need to worry, it turned up in a museum that I visted. In Fes.... Anyway it's all under control, luckily the musuem curator found it and it's being sent to the consulate in Marrakech. I had to get an 'official' stamp (on a scrap piece of paper) to say that I had entered the country legally despite not having a passport. Needless to say, it took five hours, four taxi journeys and three police stations before I finally got what I needed.... Isn't bureaucracy great?

...will travel...

I'd hoped to write again a little sooner than this but apparently they don't have internet connection in tiny villages next to amazing waterfalls...

So I spent Thursday sweating in Marrakech. Got lost in the souks, visted the Palace Bahia and the Museum of Marrakech, both of which were amazing architecturally as well as the decoration, slightly lacking in the artefact department though, but such is life. Also visited the Medersa, which is the old student accommodation for the Koranic school and watched the sun set over Djemaa El Fna, with it's snake charmers, drummers and the tiny Berber stalls which only come out after dusks sets in. They arrange their wares, which look mostly like strange herbs and medicines on a tarpaulin and sell by the light of a small kerosene lamp.

Friday morning saw a 5 hour trip to the Cascades D'Ouzoude, by bus and shared taxi. Met three really nice English girls and a totally insane Morrocan guy called Sham. Each night at his family's restaurant him and his mates play the drums and Sham is like a cross between Keith Moon and Animal from the Muppet Show. The village was really chilled out, like some kind of hippy cummune, and the perfect antidote to busy Marrakech!

On Saturday we went for a eight hour hike downriver to see some grottes (caves). They were no Cheddar Gorge, but the refreshing dip at the end was worth the walk! For those of you who are wondering, yes I did do the whole thing in my flip flops (Primark - 2 paaaaahnds) and there was no blue nylon rope involved.

Since travelling so far has been pretty much a doddle and I'm not feeling too pushed for time, I decided to spend a couple of days in Fes so today was spent mostly on a bus. The latter half of the journey I spent holding the very cute baby daughter of a Moroccan woman who was badly travel sick, and throwing up violently in a carrier bag next to me. I won't even mention the sheep in the baggage compartment. Today was so hot that I'm sure it came out slow roasted. Throw a few potatoes and tomatoes in there and you'd have a ready made tagine on arrival!

So far Fes is confusing, exciting, a bit scary and the alleyways are very dark and foreboding! I had started to feel really at home in Marrakech (yes, after only two days) so I'm feeling a bit out of my comfort zone here! I'm sure it isn't so scary in the day time but so far there has been a lot of hassle from street vendors. I'm putting my thick skin on! Anyway I'm being very well looked after by the hotel staff, which is great.

Oh yes I have also caught a cold, believe it or not!

Anyway, until next time!

Well I've arrived safely in Morocco! And after a short period of intense bargaining with the airport taxi guys, I managed to get them to halve the fare to take me into the Medina area where I'm staying. Unfortunately for me, the driver decided not to take me to the most sensible (and closest) dropping-off point for my hotel, so I then spent about half an hour walking around trying to find the blessed place. The streets are mostly not signposted, and have many twists and turns...in fact I'd go so far as to say that it's not really even a street, more like a dusty alleyway... Ah well, I found it eventually and settled into my very small, but very clean room.

The hotel itself is lovely. The rooms are all set around a sheltered courtyard with brightly coloured tiles on the walls. There are loads of backpackers here, mostly French and Spanish it seems, though I caught the distinct twang of an Aussie accent when I was buying an orange juice in the Djemaa el Fna.

Lunch was an enormous bowl of cous cous with chicken, carrots and something which seemed to be a cross between a gherkin and a courgette. A lone picture of the Spice Girls hung on the wall, their faces looking cheerfully down at me. I ate as much as I could but had to admit defeat in the end. Not bad for £2.

I've just been for a stroll around the Djemaa el Fna, which is like the marketplace, where it all happens. The smell of incense and freshly squeezed oranges combine with taxi fumes and dust, the calls of old women trying to persuade me to get a henna tattoo "Just a small one - for good luck!!!" and a man asking me to kiss his cobra!! "Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow" is my constant reply (except to the man with the cobra, who got a flat-out "no thanks"!)

I decided to be sort of sensible on my first day and get out of the midday sun and let you all know I'm here and alive and well, in an air-conditioned internet cafe. Yes, for all you Brits - its boiling hot here, not a cloud in the sky! Hurrah! And so begins my eleven day summer - it had better not be sunny in the UK or I'll be really upset...

Just to let you know, typing this has been an absolute nightmare. Not only are the letters mostly worn off the keys, but they are also in Arabic AND western script and the letters aren't in the same order as on a QWERTY keyboard. The things I do for you all eh? (Moan moan moan)

OK, rather than spodding away in an internet cafe. I'm off to rock the kasbah.

So I've booked a ticket to Morocco. I'm leaving next Wednesday. I'm going out there on my own, and people who know me well, know that I'm not that great with just myself for company. So that should be interesting. I'm excited, and more than a bit scared I have to say.

I'm not too sure whether I'm most apprehensive about spending those days on my own, because I'm worried I'm going to be lonely, or because I'm not going to have the safety of a group to fall back on. But I'm pretty sensible, I've been to Egypt and Tunisia so I've got an idea of how things work there and hopefully that will stand me in good stead.

My plans are to land in Marrakech then travel directly to the Cascades d'Ouzoude and spend a day and a couple of nights there. Then back to Marrakech and onto Essaouira for some relaxing at the beach (yeay!). After a couple of days there it's back to Marrakech (again!) to sample the delights of the city.

Cue sleeping on rooftops, snake charmers, haggling, dusty streets, cold showers and taking about one million photos. Yes. It's you guy that will have to be subkected to them when I get home. Book out a good two hours of your evening folks!

Wish me luck!

Pic1: Cascades D'Ouzoude - www.travelwithattitude.com
Pic2: Essaouira Beach - www.travelblog.org
Pic3: Mosque of Koutoubia - www.exploitz.com

So, I'm walking back to my house, and in my usual daze of doing a bit too much thinking and not quite enough looking where I'm going, I walk into a rose bush. Yes, you may well laugh, but I wasn't, as I was pulling the thorns out of my face... And then, to add insult to injury, I started feeling something warm running down my face. I put my hand up to wipe it away and my hand comes down covered in blood! I carried on walking back to my house. I could still feel the blood on my face, but by this point it's actually dripping off my nose! I'm starting to wonder what people will think if I passed them in the street, but 'fortunately' I needn't have worried. Oh no! A guy drove past in a car, shot me a sympathetic look and just carried on driving! Not even a "You alright, Love?" Flippin' good job I was alright I suppose, since you're not going to give me any help you old git!

BLIMEY, what is the world coming to!?! I wonder what state I would have to be in for someone to actually help me!?

Right, I'm off to check if I need a tetanus shot...

"Police squirted with breast milk
Startled cops were sprayed with breast milk as they tried to arrest a suspected shoplifter.

Staff at Lizard, in Richmond's Hill Street, stopped the teenager as she tried to leave the clothes store on March 29.

They found a pair of shoes under her dress and some small wire cutters, which could be used to cut off security tags.

But when police tried to arrest her, she stunned them by grabbing her right breast and showering them with milk.

Incredibly, the store manager said suspected thieves often resorted to such tactics...."







I wonder if the 'lady' in question looked anything like this...

I've really got nothing more to say about this...

How true is this?


"Biting's good but it's the 'NEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW' in the dark that does it for me" (Metro newspaper)

I saw a guy asleep on the train last night, and he looked EXACTLY like Dr Jack Shepherd from Lost. AND he got off at my station. Sadly I'm no Evangeline Lilly so he didn't even notice me.

Such is life.

...yes, slugs, snails and worms all over the flippin' pavement. What's worse is that it's dark outside so that leaves me scouring the ground ahead of me to ensure I don't tread on any of the blessed things. YUCKY!!!! As a result of this, you can often see me dancing all over the pavements like a loony when I'm on my way home. I just hate hate HATE the cracking sound a snail shell makes when you stand on it. And I HATE the slight slip that happens underfoot when a slug goes to the great saltpot in the sky, via the sole of my shoe. It really makes me shudder...

Number of squashy invertebrates avoided:
- Slugs (5)
- Snails (13)
- Worms (2)

Longest worm encountered:
Approx 20cm

Number of snails on front step alone:
8

Ridiculous!!!

From the Metro newspaper 23rd April
"FIRST TIME BUYERS: Please move along - you're blocking someone's view"

So this is how it feels to be me! Along with thousands of others no doubt!

I'm still contemplating buying a place of my own but even since Christmas I've noticed the rise in prices. Now I've started thinking what with the expected increase in interest rates next month, maybe I should stick with renting for a while. After all, I've only been waiting two or three years for the housing market to crash already, I'm sure another two or three won't hurt....

The trouble with all of this is that damn Sod's Law. You know what I'm talking about, "Anything that can go wrong, will".

If I don't buy a place, prices will continue to rise, if I do buy a place, the housing market will undoubtedly crash as soon as I move in and put my feet up on my new IKEA coffee table. It's a bit like supermarket queues isn't it. You get in the shortest queue, but just before you reach the till, one of three things happens:

1. The kid on the till is about 12, and the couple on front of you are having a massive party and have bought litres of booze, for which the kid has to get permission to sell....


2. The woman in front is old and doddery and either can't count her money or (even worse) hasn't got enough to cover her shopping


3. The till roll runs out

So, don't hold your breath for my house-warming party...

Ems cartoon strip - www.thelondonpaper.com
By Em Smedstad

This cartoon strip is *so* me it's scary.....

People think I'm really lucky to be able to work at home three days a week, and I guess I am....I can work in my pyjamas, I can go for Doctors appointments that only take 45 minutes out of my day rather than having to take the whole morning off, and I can work out in the sunshine if I like....it's all good.

BUT the downsides are - missing out on invitations to go out with friends for lunch or after work cos I'm not in town, starting too early and finishing too late, and my #1 crime of all (and I've really only got myself to blame for this) getting into a bad habit of checking my work emails last thing before bed and first thing in the morning. Yes, even at 3am when I am drunk. Good job I had the foresight not to reply to any of them.

So, next time you think someone is 'really lucky' to be able to work at home, spare a thought - it's not all great!

....just going to check my emails.

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A friend of mine showed me a great little link, so here it is again!

This is how many countries I've visited....(22 - which is more than I thought, but only 9% of the total...still got some travelling to do!)



create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

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