passport to Pimlico!
I am enjoying a relaxing few days having returned safely from That London on Thursday evening, and considering that virtually every moment of my time in the charming village of SW1 was spoken for before I even got on the first train, I have enjoyed the ministrations of such delightful, interesting, and decidedly talented gentlemen for virtually the entire duration I have returned with something of a glow which feels nostalgically reminiscent of an old Ready Brek commercial, albeit one with very untidy hair, a few missing buttons and embarrassingly stiff legs. Huge apologies to the gentlemen who left calling until the last minute and were unavoidably disappointed, but I’ll be back next month (and in birthday mood, but more of that later!)
My charming apartment has been rebooked for my return next month, and a list of telephone demands has been made; as some of you will know, spacious, spotless and desirably located as my new favourite London pad was, the horror of discovering that the essential-for-the-short-of-time toaster was absent, as were proper mugs (resulting in my having to make, drink and wash up two cups of tea at a time) not to mention the degree-standard IT skills required to connect to the in-house WiFi was rather more than I am prepared to bear again, and whilst the lack of a suitable warm, starchy and comforting base on which to eat Marmite is hardly a life-altering catastrophe, all points have been noted and I have been assured that next time, the requisite inventory will be provided. Thank God (and for the idly curious, no, toast does not work in the microwave and yes, I did try making it over one of my scented candles, only to be thwarted by the corners).
Next week is filling up availablility-wise; please do book early! Cancellations are always possible if plans change, but as stated last time, same days bookings will not be taken for the remainder of the month, as spelled out to the gentleman who rang yesterday expecting to see me in an hours’ time and bafflingly, at my specially discounted rate for members of the armed forces, despite not belonging to any of them himself (strange indeed how that was the only part of my painstakingly-written website he was able to read, apparently having no idea of my actual fees, services or increasingly limited capacity to tolerate conversing with callers who display all the tact, courtesy and intelligence of a halfbrick). At least 24 hours warning please, and to anyone who for whatever reason thinks it is acceptable to haggle, the best way to save yourself some money in this instance is by not bothering to pick the phone up in the first place.
The apartment is looking ever more festive since the arrival of my lovely Christmas tree, which is subtly and simultaneously scenting the air and adding fresh texture to the carpet, giving every barefoot journey an exciting Indiana Jones-style frisson of adventure. Longer standing visitors will be relieved to hear that this acquisition is of a rather more manageable size than the towering and resplendent nine footer which adorned the (far emptier) living room last time round, prompting more than one comment about Trafalgar Square looking a touch on the empty side (and you didn’t have to cut it up with a junior hacksaw afterwards!) Candles are lit, the fridge is reassuringly well stocked and all preparations are well up to speed; since my return I have also eaten 6 mince pies, one mini Christmas pudding (both with cream) and an entire 1lb 6oz box of assorted Thorntons toffee kindly presented to me on Saturday so any energetic suggestions very welcome!
Brief posting this week – as some of you will know, I have been having a little technical trouble and am now typing from my new and super-compact Sony Vaio; sleekly desirable and beguiling object though it undoubtedly is, the keyboard is going to take a little more practice before everything I type stops coming out in Tuareg (needless to say, the accompanying words coming out of my mouth originate from a far baser dialect, although for the record, I do not believe that this form of temporary, tech-driven Tourettes is contagious). Will be back on next week with Christmas wishes!
on the road again…
Well, not entirely unexpectedly, I have had a much quieter week then has been the norm – the run-up to Christmas has been clearly beginning to show itself (although I ought to apologise profusely to the gentlemen whose appointment requests I turned down only to be cancelled at short notice not once, not twice, but three times last week. Can’t be helped, but irritating nonetheless).
This week, however, has been busy once again and with my impending London trip almost entirely booked from start to finish I have taken the occasional lulls as an opportunity to relax a bit, and indulge in the gentle art of pottering about the house doing very little, although as I mentioned last time, I have in fact been cracking on with some nice new pictures and even experimenting with lighting with the aid of a builder’s lamp, cardboard and a large roll of turkey foil left over from last Christmas; the aim being to have a new Gallery-ful by the end of the year (I have a feeling I’m going to be reminded I said that).
Those fascinated, and I no longer count myself amongst their number, being as I am heartily sick of having dust, unidentifiable screws and bits of plastic pipe all over the house in the ongoing upstairs-bathroom saga will be happy to know that an end would appear to be in sight, although a ‘finished’ situation before Christmas (as hoped) is looking less and less likely to materialise, and I have resigned myself to the fact that my original intent to have the whole thing done by the end of this year was laughably optimistic, especially given that my day-to-day activities do not allow for me to entertain in a building site (and we are inexorably moving towards the moment when the need for tiling and grouting will (once again, for those who remember the kitchen machinations) present itself, much to my chagrin and the delight of the lady who does my nails.
The appalling weather has also led me to extend the ‘free’ period I have between appointments here; twice this last week gentlemen have arrived 30 minutes late or more, and whilst this is not generally a pressing problem for me, I do enjoy a decent break to properly refresh myself, make Horlicks and cheese on toast and catch up on iplayer – therefore, for anyone with a visit arranged, please allow yourself plenty of time to get here! Things are unlikely to improve for a while yet, although today has brought both milder temperatures and a brighter, sunnier aspect which I have particularly enjoyed from the Tesco car park where I languished for twenty minutes this morning waiting for a taxi and as ever, berating myself for not ordering everything online (in the manner of the smugly and earnestly ecofriendly, whose views I am partial to whenever it involves not having to leave the warmth of the house).
Once back from London I will be having something of a break to prepare for Christmas, and whilst advance bookings are still welcome (after all someone has to keep me out of mischief, and also distract me from eating my body weight in Roses, pork pie, satsumas and proper nuts daily), these will be limited and no same day appointments will be taken for the remainder of this month. Potential visitors will be pleased to know that I will be available throughout the festive period (subject to plenty of warning that I may rouse myself from the inevitable stupor accompanying the season and actually bother to get showered, combed and dressed) and I will look forward to enthusiastically greeting anyone needing a bolthole for an hour or two – no pun intended.
As some will have noticed, restlessness is setting in again and I have spent time planning my next few visits – next confirmed dates being Birmingham (a place which I have never actually seen beyond New Street Station and the airport). Plans are also in the offing for visits to Bristol and the South West as well as Oxford, which has been suggested to me more times than would be possible for it to be a coincidence (answers on a postcard!) Wonder if there’s such as thing as whore-miles?
i’m Spartacus!
Firstly this week, I would like to offer heartfelt and sincere congratulations, my sympathies and a little apology to our newest outed lady member, the delightful Dr Brooke Magnanti aka ‘Belle de Jour’ diarist and therefore by proxy, much-discussed sensationalist television staple.
Dr Magnanti (who is fortunate indeed to be blessed with a given name which already sounds wonderfully like one of a decidedly upscale working lady) has, not entirely of her own volition, revealed her identity and told all to the good people of the assembled press, apparently a bare five minutes before either the Daily Mail (whose reporter was recently escorted from Bristol University’s site) or a less than discreet and seemingly shirty ex-boyfriend did it for her.
I would like to enthusiastically congratulate Brooke on her fabulous achievements as a scientist and researcher, and her career as a respected specialist in developmental neurotoxicology and cancer epidemiology in a hospital research group in Bristol …and yes, I (being a respected specialist in nothing) did have to cut and paste that. The almost universal amazement by the usual media stalwarts at the revelation that some working prostitutes are educated, trained and qualified to do things other than drop their knickers (and therefore must be doing so because they have chosen to) is entirely predictable, but it never hurts to keep reinforcing it.
However, it has to be said that many of us are equally content just to be comfortably financially independent and supporting ourselves and our families, and to say that it is ‘better’ or more valid to spend one’s earnings on tuition than on clothes, food or anything else, necessary or not, is in my view just as dubious. We all earn our money as we see fit, and to tell someone what they ’should’ then be spending it on is ridiculous, no matter what one’s occupation. Encouragingly, anyone who listened to the Jeremy Vine phone-in on Radio Two yesterday lunchtime will have heard many supportive comments from listeners; ordinary people who were not only clearly able to understand the situation but also to differentiate between those who are exploited by others and need help and those who are very much in control of their working lives, and do not.
I also congratulate Brooke on her success as a writer, although this is where the apology comes in – I have only rarely read her blog, but like many other ladies always doubted it’s validity simply because there were a good few things which didn’t quite ring true. It would seem that the reason for this is simply that Brooke/Belle worked part time and not for very long, in other words, she didn’t do the job long enough to pick up some of the knowledge of the business and the norms which the more raddled old tarts amongst us accept as the ‘done thing’. Hardly the crime of the century, and my bad – quite understandably, Dr Magnanti has had other things to concentrate on, such as the possibility of curing child cancer. I do hope Ms Harman (whose silence throughout has been deafening) and the esteemed Dr John Sentamu (whom I once used to like and respect before the abolitionist claptrap; this from a man who believes not only that the earth was created from scratch in a week by a supreme being, but that a virgin gave birth and a man rose from the dead) are reading too.
It is heartening also that her employers have emphatically supported her; according to Personnel Today: ‘Bosses at the Bristol Initiative for Research of Child Health said: “This aspect of her past bears no relevance to her current role at the university”. A month ago she revealed her secret to her colleagues at the Bristol Initiative for Research of Child Health, who were “amazingly kind and supportive“.’ Unlike the asinine journos who couldn’t let the opportunity slip by to compare, yet again, the ‘tiny minority’ of fortunate women (who have decided of their own free will to work relatively few hours for very good money in order to be able to concentrate on other areas of their lives) with the street scene, which is familiar to few if any of us and a completely separate issue which needs dealing with sensitively and appropriately by specialist support workers and sensible, decent Government policy, not by lumping everyone in the industry in together and slapping a label on us. Comparing like with like would be a start, but admittedly wouldn’t sell many papers.
Anyway, and back at the ranch, Christmas would appear to have come early this week, and I am feeling very spoilt indeed having been the lucky recipient of gifts galore! From champagne, wine and (fancier than I deserve) chocolates to a ‘wish bottle’ brought by a kind visitor last weekend and which I am still deciding about in terms of where to start. The charming gentlemen who have been arriving bearing these gifts have been a real breath of fresh air, and whilst I am planning a quieter and more relaxing week to follow, such pleasant company has put a real spring in my step, as did my brief London trip where a fine time was had by all , and it was proved to me once again that there is no substitute for sharing experiences with those in the same boat as you. I have also been busy starting a new run of pictures (sneak preview above), and am hoping to have a gleaming new set on site soon!
Talk of Christmas brings me to availability – book early! I am planning a quiet one as ever, but will be about if anyone is feeling magnanimous enough to share some cheer, and may even stretch to some mince pies. I am planning more visits to brighten up the New Year – already on the cards are Edinburgh, Bristol and possibly a sojourn to Wales; as ever, watch this space!
the times they are a changin’…
Well, the pleasantly mild and balmy autumn days of the last couple of weeks have today given way to rain the like of which I have not seen since my last holiday in the tropics, although any similarity between the Maldivian paradise I enjoyed slightly over a year ago and the north Yorkshire coast not unsurprisingly ends there, as despite an all-day torrential downpour last Sunday in particular and the gale blowing outside as I type this, there is not a palm tree, hammock or suspicious-looking insect in sight.
The home improvements continue apace, with the lousy weather resulting in my throwing myself into all things domestic with particular zeal and returning visitors will notice a few differences! And as some have already noticed, the differences are not confined to my increasingly gracious surroundings – to those who have not visited recently, I have carefully considered all the relevant information, taken advice from my local healthcare providers and made important amendments to my Services advertising – in a nutshell, I will no longer be offering oral without protection.
The industry in which I am proud to work and the job I love are changing like all others; this is unavoidable and in a lot of ways welcome. The internet has revolutionised both our ways of running, marketing and protecting our businesses and made the easy accessing of information (and best of all, pictures!) a Godsend to our clients. Ladies and gents can find each other in all corners of the country, even the world, and through chat rooms, forums and message boards both parties in the punting experience can swap information, stories, tips and link up with others to help assure our safety (and occasionally, our sanity).
Advertising has never been so cheap and simple to arrange; literally anyone can, even without a website, stick a free profile up on a site like Adultwork and give it a go, often with little or no idea of what the work involves beyond opening one’s legs, mouth or both. Scant regard is paid to safety and security as increasingly desperate, completely naive, and occasionally just plain greedy and stupid would-be prossies pop up, it seems, in every corner – this coupled with recent information from the lovely ladies at the local GUM regarding the truly jaw-dropping rates at which STDs are spreading, both locally and across the country, has led me to this decision which I have struggled with for weeks, if not months. I have no wish to bang on about it further here, but suffice to say, if this means that some of us will not be meeting again then so be it, and conversely, to those who may have been slightly put off before at the thought of a snog before – welcome!
Comments and questions are welcome. I am not silly enough to think that if I continue as was, I am suddenly to be afflicted with every revolting pharyngeal complaint known to man, and I am certainly not going to get sanctimonious (in the manner of ex-smokers, for example) about the choices made by others – as far as I am concerned, if a lady decides to offer unprotected intercourse in every possible orifice to all comers for free, that is nobody’s business but her own; she is breaking no laws and her customers are equally free to avail themselves of her service. There are plenty of people out there who consider all of us to be dirty, stupid, irresponsible and generally unpleasant purely by virtue of what we do for a living and I have no intention of joining their ranks.
That said, I do not expect my decision to be questioned – I will be honouring existing bookings out of fairness, but that is all. Fortunately, the gentlemen I meet (by and large) are respectful, intelligent adults who wish me to be comfortable with the activities we are sharing, but if oral without is a dealbreaker – please go elsewhere. It benefits neither of us for you to book my time, arrive and pay, spend fifteen minutes trying to talk me into making exceptions and another two minutes being asked to leave. Alternatively, I’m bloody good at massage, handjobs and have a cracking pair of boobs; use your imagination! Or ask me to – I have enough for both of us…
I will be in That London briefly at the start of next week for a ladies’ meeting, possibly my ride on the London Eye (my London visit in December is filling up so quickly that I am unlikely to have time) and a much-anticipated trip to see the Anish Kapoor exhibition at the Royal Academy; in other words, a wholly self indulgent and relaxing Sunday/Monday when my phone is unlikely to be answered, if even switched on. Please do email with enquiries – for all it’s outwardly unfashionable and cumbersome appearance, my PDA will be looked at far more often.
Will report back soon! Incidentally, apologies for repeating the photo above, but it is six months now since I bought my lovely camera (the day before that particular one was taken), and by way of celebration I am planning some more over the next couple of weeks. Suggestions welcome and watch this space!
everything in moderation…
After the very enjoyable righteous indignation of last time, this week has found me far calmer and once again, extremely busy; our unwary new promotions recruit Ms Harman’s well-meaning diatribes are owed a great debt of thanks both by myself and the several gentlemen who recently discovered my website purely as a result of a nose through (the previously unknown-to-them) Punternet.
A fine time has been had by all and our heartfelt thanks go out to Harriet and her many lackeys who no doubt spend a fair proportion of their days Googling for press and thus may happen upon our collective gratitude, not to mention the truly staggering difference in website traffic helped in no small part by an (eloquent and more than slightly risqué) new review from a very determined caller who journeyed all the way from Birmingham and back to visit last week. Surely a contender for the new round-trip record, although a much adored gentleman’s impulse-drive from Blackpool to Dartford – via Sunday lunch chez moi – the summer before last will likely remain the trophy holder for a while yet, at least whilst fuel prices remain at their current level.
All in all, I am getting very used to being ensconced back at home for the next few weeks, and as both the leaves and the temperatures outside are rapidly turning, the mind turns to the types of pleasures we here are blessed with purely by virtue of living in a land with proper weather. The unpacking of knitwear and warm duvet, strolling along the Esplanade on the coldest and sunniest days, and hours spent nesting on the settee fantasising about crumble all beckon and the onset of winter cannot come fast enough for me – many of you know that this is far and away my favourite season, and I am happiest of all remaining here in Scarborough to enjoy it!
That said, I am already well underway in organising my next London visit; the location will be the delightful village of Pimlico (if for no reason other than to provide a handy blog title for when I return). Bookings are coming in even faster than usual, and I am looking forward to seeing some familiar faces – I also plan to take a trip on the London Eye now that the (oft-recommended) darkness is falling early in the day, as well as hopefully catch up with a few lovely ladies of my acquaintance. In related news, this last week I was absurdly flattered, and very proud to be asked to take up the post of Global Moderator on the SAAFE forum; Support and Advice for Escorts. The site has been running 5 years now and is a valuable resource for both new and experienced ladies, in addition to providing much-needed online space for us to moan, occasionally bicker and pass on vital tips regarding periods, bulk purchasing of condoms/hosiery and the very best ways to manage one’s advertising, persistent timewasters and unwanted body hair.
SAAFE also provides us with a platform to warn other ladies of less-than desirable visitors who are, whilst very much in the minority, part and parcel of our business – this has been brought sharply home to many of us recently with news of the murder last week of Andrea Waddell, a sex worker in Brighton. I do not wish to dwell on such dreadful events, suffice to say that a suspect has been apprehended and charged, but any opportunity we have to join forces and swap information is of paramount importance in this unfairly stigmatised and marginalised occupation, and for that reason alone it needs to exist and flourish so that it may be available to as many of us as possible. For ladies who may be reading this, there is a link over to the right – come and have a look!
As far as availability goes over the next couple of weeks; as some have seen for themselves, the new bathroom is coming along nicely, and whilst weekends are still likely to be out of bounds, the weekdays are settling back to normal albeit with slightly more dust than before. However, the usual contacting-rules still apply – I am having something of a resurgence in gentlemen ringing with no knowledge of my fees or services and expecting me to be available virtually there and then (not in any small part thanks to my mobile number featuring unbeknownst to me in some utterly revolting ’swinging’ magazine, which is frankly about as relevant to my business as asphalt spreading, and considerably less appealing as a way of passing the time). I do know that the people who do this are also the people who are least likely to be reading these lines, but just in case, PLEASE read the website before calling. I really don’t mean to offend, but…
to whom it may concern…
Far be it from me to normally allow tedious political machinations to dominate my ever gentle and moderately-tempered writing space, but this last week, as many of you will have seen, the fragrant Ms Harriet Harman has been on the vote-grabbing warpath once again with regard to Punternet, which (for those who do not know) is a responsible, well thought of and popular advertising and review site (of ten years standing) for punters and prostitutes – as any of you who have seen my site will know, I have not a few Field Reports on there myself.
I do not intend to rake again over old coals; there is plenty of straight-from-the-horses-mouth reaction to HH’s preposterous assertions here on the PN message board, but I would implore all readers to consider that this blinkered, patronising rubbish is part of a far larger and more sinister agenda – to paint us all to the wider community as feeble, downtrodden, drug-addled victims, enslaved and controlled by the evil pimps and exploited, nay, raped daily by the selfish, uncaring lowlife who visit us to fuel their sick and disgusting perversions (conveniently ignoring the far less interesting revelation that we are simply independent adults engaging in perfectly LEGAL and consensual paid sexual activity).
Now I, of course, am only speaking against this because I am a: deluding myself to escape the numbing, soul destroying and terrible daily reality of my work and accompanying lifestyle, (and to reassure the unsuspecting punters whose business I am constantly and desperately touting for) or b: I am actually an intelligent and well-balanced individual who has made an informed choice about how I earn my living, and actively enjoys the freedom, interesting challenges and limitless opportunities to meet new people, travel to new places and learn new things on almost a daily basis. Needless to say, the second option, whilst true, is irrelevant, because (you see), I am not representative of the industry and therefore my views (and presumably those of the thousands of other ladies who have arrived at exactly the same conclusion) do not matter, despite the fact that our hard earned taxes pay the wages of these arrogant, ignorant hypocrites.
I am a whore, and a prostitute. I am also successfully self employed, healthy and happy; my work results in the comfort, relief and pleasure of others and brings me a great deal of joy – not to mention a healthy income which affords me complete financial independence and results in a far from insignificant contribution to the public purse. It is also the most honest and worthwhile work I have ever done; speaking as someone who has, amongst other things, spent time in sales positions urging people to spend money they could not afford on shite they did not need, just to bump up my commission to a living wage – this in addition to so many of the usual menial jobs taken up by unqualified, untrained women (some of whom, I suspect, may be understandably hacked off at the largely misplaced sympathetic outpourings afforded to those among us earning £100+ per hour) that over the last 20 or so years I have completely lost count. Most importantly, I can and will hold my head high – I have NOTHING to be ashamed of, and whilst I accept that I am more fortunate than some, I can at least speak from my personal first-hand observations and experiences and those of the ladies I know, unlike Ms. Harman and her barmy accolytes, who apparently have no intention of letting actual reality get in the way of a good headline.
The sex industry has a dark side – this is not news, and no-one is denying it. However, it should not come as a surprise to anybody that the manufacturing, agriculture, textile and hospitality industries (I could go on) include plenty of operations which they are not proud of, often involving appalling living and working conditions, slave wages and the widespread and ruthless exploitation of thousands of people, often but by no means always non-British workers. Unfortunately, it seems, as many are men and few, if any, take off their clothes this is unlikely to shift many copies for the scurrilous red-tops and therefore can confidently be ignored; yet these are the people who need the help, support and resources of the police and the anti-trafficking organisations – ladies like myself, and the many migrant sex workers who come here to work willingly in order to help themselves and their families towards a better life, do not. In the interests of completeness and balance, some of you may enjoy a little background on Ms Harman herself in her more, er, liberal days, courtesy of the Christian Voice:
‘Before she became an MP, Harriet Harman was the legal officer in the late 1970s for the National Council for Civil Liberties. When Miss Harman joined NCCL in 1978, PIE, the Paedophile Information Exchange, had already been affiliated for three years. Another group, Paedophile Action for Liberation, a Gay Liberation Front offshoot, had also been affiliated to NCCL until it was absorbed by PIE. PIE, which campaigned for adults to have sex legally with children, only broke off its relationship with NCCL when it went undercover in 1982, the same year that Harriet Harman left her NCCL post to become Member of Parliament for Peckham.
Jack Dromey, whom Harriet Harman married in 1982, and who is now Treasurer of the Labour Party, was also involved with the NCCL. He served on its Executive Committee from 1970 to 1979, so he was there when the decision to invite the two paedophile groups to affiliate was made. NCCL also set up a gay rights sub-committee at the same time, members of which included prominent paedophiles Peter Bremner (alias Roger Nash), Michael Burbidge, Keith Hose and Tom O’Carroll. Stephen Green, National Director of Christian Voice, commented: ‘It is timely that the ghosts of the 1970’s past should come back to haunt these three leading Labour Party politicians. Harriet Harman, Jack Dromey and Patricia Hewitt were in their mid- or late-twenties at the time, but that cannot really excuse the way NCCL came to regard paedophiles as an oppressed minority whose civil liberties needed to be fought for.‘
Hmm. And don’t get me started on her ‘cavalier’ approach to the Highway Code. Still, he who is without sin, and so on. Enough is enough – rant over. Speaking for myself, I have found my website traffic greatly increased and enquiries likewise, but the suspicious soul in me is well aware that the journalists and busybodies will be out in force, so if you do happen to be new to me and desiring an appointment, please be aware that I (in common with other ladies) am treading cautiously over the coming days, and apologies in advance if I am unavailable until we have seen if, and how this ridiculous story progresses.
Back to more usual matters and my very enjoyable trip to Edinburgh! A delightful time was had and lots of new friends were met – I have enjoyed haggis, neeps and tatties for lunch with the fabulous Dollymopp (her blog is linked over on the right, but do be sure to look at her websites too, if for no reason other than to see how it can be done) and am hoping to to meet her again for some photographs; a more talented, enthusiastic and utterly personable lady you would be hard-pushed to meet, and if you ever find yourself footloose in That London, you really ought to treat yourself.
I have drunk lovely real cider and eaten excellent blue steak in Broughton, run under the Calton Street bridge a’la Trainspotting and strolled peacefully among the beautiful buildings and very fancy shops of George Street and St Andrews Square; I should probably point out that I did meet some truly charming gentleman accomplices along the way (being as I am an unapologetic sucker for a man with an accent) and whilst the ongoing home improvements unfortunately meant my cutting my trip short, I am happy to report that I will certainly be back and sooner rather than later. If this is exploitation, degradation and oppression, I do believe I can live with it.
health and efficiency…
I post as an addendum to my previous rushed message and from my soft, fragrant and relaxing corner of the eminently comfortable Champney’s lounge in which I am temporarily and peacefully resident.
Rather less-than-usefully, said lounge emerges as the only area on the premises with WiFi (no broadband in rooms at all, not even one of the ever more antiquated-looking clunky black plug-in boxes I often find on my travels when I am too mean and grumbly to pay extra for the comparatively liberated wireless service). The scourge that is the mobile phone, crass and brazen enemy of blissful languor is, excitingly, banned completely from all public areas, although I have observed some almost comically furtive use by those for whom actually switching the object off and leaving it in another room is akin to losing a vital organ, or perhaps an offspring.
I have, in the past hour, consumed so much healthy (and thus guilt-free – it is truly amazing what your brain can convince you of when whatever your well-piled plate contains is festooned with pumpkin seeds) and nutritionally balanced lunch from the buffet (also for future reference, and for those with nothing left to fear from the complex carbohydrate, the Pasta Station, where charming and youthful chefs in gleaming whites whip up, to order, the fusilli/fettucine or farfalle of your choice although from an observer’s viewpoint, it does appear to help enormously if your choice is pesto), that any question of swimming, sauna-ing or God forbid, the gleaming state-of-the-art gym, is going to be completely out of the question for at least a couple of hours; in fact any purposeful movement other than typing is unlikely in the extreme. Gone forever are the days of cabbage soup, plain lettuce and suitcase searches by stoic, matronly types determined to confiscate anything containing the kind of fat which is desirably solid at room temperature (mistrustful and suspicious soul that I am, I was not convinced of this and arrived with 6 mini Babybels and a Snickers discreetly concealed in a gym sock), and thank God for that.
Those of you who have not met me would be forgiven for suspecting that I might be cynical about the entire ethos of these places (and those who have will be in no doubt whatsoever), but I have been relieved to find that my surroundings do exactly as it says on the tin, naturally at a price, but well worth it. Unusual though it is for me to find myself in almost exclusively female company, I have enjoyed myself a great deal and being surrounded by lovely ladies of all ages, shapes and sizes and in every possible state of undress for the majority of the week has been a real pleasure, and also a great leveller – everyone is indeed created equal when removed from their usual trappings of clothes/hair/makeup, thoroughly washed, and placed in a nice white dressing gown and slippers. For my part I have swapped girly tips and stories, got through three items from my ever-growing paperback pile, been running on a treadmill (thanks to my specially purchased sports bra, I was even able to do so without having to keep one arm braced firmly across my chest in the manner that all ladies similarly blessed are used to doing when ascending staircases and so on), and most enjoyably, used a hula-hoop for the first time in around thirty years.
Back tomorrow, and as previously stated, evening bookings only for at least the next few days. All enquiries welcome – Edinburgh bookings are starting to gain pace and I am looking forward to my visit very much! Meanwhile, I am planning to spend a pleasant hour dozing in my corner before a facial of the more traditional kind than I have become accustomed to, not least because the monies are flowing in the opposite direction and no gentlemen are involved in any stage of the process. I am sure, however that this coming week will see a more usual range of activities for me and my newly softened, pampered and polished physique and after a week with nary a Y chromosome in sight, I cannot say I’m not looking forward to it!
the final destination (this week, at least)
Having barely had time to turn around following my later-than-planned return from London (thanks to not entirely accidentally missing the last off-peak afternoon train and thus being stranded until the recommencement at 7pm, and subsequently getting home at midnight), I am today packing and preparing for my much anticipated R & R trip to Champneys tomorrow.
The houseplants are watered, rubbish is taken out (why is such a small job always one which gets put off for days on end?) and I have spent a pleasant couple of hours creating ipod playlists (currently ‘Less Popular Beatles Songs’ and selecting DVDs for evening viewing (although as these have so far included at least one zombie-themed horror film as well as my usual old favourite TV box sets, relaxing is possibly not the strictly correct term).
As ever, a lively and fun packed trip to the capital, naturally including some delightful company both reassuringly familiar and excitingly new! And not a single badly behaved visitor amongst them, which as you may remember is an improvement on the last occasion and each encounter cheered me up no end (as did an impromptu evening out with the lovely Evie, which involved a big Greek dinner, several drinks, lots of gossip and a relaxing stroll back from Soho at 4am). For my part, I spent the following day (after checking out and jettisoning my giant suitcase at the King’s Cross Left Luggage) meeting another lady friend for coffee and cake at the Hummingbird Bakery before collecting my painting from the Royal Academy and staying to see the soon-to-end JW Waterhouse exhibition, leading to the aforementioned train-missing; I’m afraid that even at my most determined and resourceful, I cannot get from Piccadilly to King’s Cross in ten minutes.
By way of pleasant distraction I spent the intervening time before the evening trains aimlessly but enjoyably meandering around London (which I do not often have time for), had lunch, watched a puppet show in Covent Garden and redressed the cultural balance by taking myself to see The Final Destination in 3D; an exciting prospect indeed as I have never seen a 3D film before, and the slightly panicky, jumpy demeanour which inevitably accompanies any attempt to function after two hours sleep lent the film a definite extra edge. The whole experience left me thoroughly entertained, as well as compelled to maintain my long held view that any situation where power tools (particularly the endlessly fascinating and almost entirely useless nail gun), liquids (spanning flammable and corrosive, as well the seemingly-innocent water) bladed objects and live electricals are within metres of each other, is probably best avoided, although the fictional shenanigans of FD will certainly add a frisson to my next trip to B&Q.
This trip is likely to be sooner rather than later; as some of you will know, the builders will shortly be back and work begins next Saturday following my return; the result will be a nice new bathroom, but also alas, very limited incall availability for the following week and any daytime opportunities are very unlikely. I will be answering telephone enquiries as best I can, but obviously I am likely to be overheard and once again I must implore potential visitors to contact me by email – my mobile will be switched off virtually all of this week until Friday whilst I am away, so an ideal opportunity for practicing! I do intend to check messages and will certainly answer emails as promptly as is practicable during a week of warm mud covered and seaweed-wrapped languishing, but please have patience – and the results will be worth it…
I am off to finish my packing – it is unusual indeed to be filling a suitcase with soft and comfortable clothing rather than my regular apparel! As Autumn (my favourite season) is now clearly here, I am planning (amongst others) some more outdoor photos in the near future – the current alfresco set have been extremely popular and I will be certain to find another picturesque location. Wave if you see me!
now you see her…
Well, thanks in no small part to my very pleasant few days in Nottingham last week I have returned with a real spring in my step and subsequently had lots of enthusiastic fun over the Bank Holiday, although one unfortunate gentleman had his plans – and thus mine – scuppered by the gridlocked traffic to the coast yesterday, and even a carefully formulated plan to return later in the day was eventually thwarted; if he is reading this then please don’t worry, there’s always a next time!
The last Bank Holiday before Christmas is drawing to a close, the school holidays will soon be at an end and normal service can be resumed, not only for me but for anyone who requires the A64 to function as a thoroughfare rather than a parking facility. And thank God for that – on a flying visit to Leeds ten days or so ago, I had half expected that I would disembark the train to the sort of post apocalyptic big-city-as-ghost-town vision beloved of film makers wishing to portray the aftermath of, well, insert preferred catastrophic event here (I like zombies).
I myself am particularly full of beans, having spent a pleasant morning in the company of a charming gentleman caller, and the afternoon being the very model of ruthless efficiency – handwashing done, preparations for London visit organised and the monthly ‘prossie shop’ completed (the inventorying and restocking of supplies, which always involves an enjoyable and satisfying trip to Wilkinsons for wet-wipes, shower gel, mouthwash, tealights and laundry wherewithals). Today, I was astounded to see Caramac bars for sale, and was thus (briefly) in possession of one for the first time in probably twenty years – who knew you could still get these? I look forward to next time, and am already fantasising about the possibilities; the return of the Rowntree’s Nutty bar, for example, would be enough to reduce me to a teary, quivering heap (and no doubt please my dentist almost as much).
Accounts next – as many of you know I am often lackadaisical about keeping these up to date, but have been trying very hard indeed; let’s face it, there is no better way to spend a Bank Holiday Monday afternoon than itemising receipts for train tickets, plastic sandwiches and the sort of takeaway coffee whose flavour and composition is more suggestive of the earth in which the beans were grown rather than any by-product resultant of their processing. Next time I have resolved to take my flask.
As this weeks’ title implies, my incall availability for the next few weeks will be patchy – I am visiting London from Sunday to Thursday next week and then my aforementioned health spa holiday (complete, apparently, with horse-riding, Bollywood dance classes and microdermabrasion) follows from Sunday 13th onwards. The following weekend finally sees the remodelling of my bathroom get underway, and whilst this will not affect evening appointments (provided callers can cope with a little more dust and mess than usual), I do not hold out much hope for daytime incalls until the following weekend at the earliest; this being the 26th-27th September, and I travel to Edinburgh on the 30th for 4 days. I do promise to calm down after that, and look forward to warm and languorous afternoons spent inhabiting this very apartment, perhaps with Horlicks and some toast and marmalade on the go.
It is hard to believe it is now over a year since I moved – how wonderful it would be to know where the time goes! (I suspect all my mini suitcase-padlock keys, old mobile chargers and assorted hairgrips are residing happily there with it). All offers of help are still being gratefully received, and anyone who can do something useful is still welcome to email me with helpful suggestions. For the time being though, it’s a catch-up week and next stop London!
don’t forget your toothbrush…
Without wishing to sound churlish, I have been relieved at last to have a much-needed quiet and peaceful week, with just a carefully timed couple of enjoyably leisurely meetings to keep the meter running!
I have been busy organising myself for my Nottingham visit as well as making arrangements for the next London dash and another brief trip to Edinburgh at the start of October (regular readers may remember my intent to return following my last brief stay in March, although this time I have been fortunate indeed to find some far more pleasant and desirable lodgings to entertain in, although I will admit that the choice is still proving to be a bit much and I have not yet decided exactly which ones yet).
The majority of yesterday was spent endlessly poring over train times and hotel details has left me with a predictably splitting headache, although I suspect the accompanying bottle of Rioja is at least partly responsible for both this and the unpleasant complication upon waking of a mouth like the inside of a Bombay minicab.
Naturally I am now fully recovered and looking forward to a busy week with the gentlemen of Nottingham – I will be home on Saturday evening and available from Sunday for a week, before hurtling back to London in order to collect this year’s acquisition from the RA Summer Exhibition (a small and unassuming painting which I was bewitched by, and have been looking forward to rehoming for seemingly months now). The itinerary upon this occasion will hopefully be including a trip on the London Eye too following a kind recommendation – any would-be consorts please do email!
The vigilant will have noticed that I am on holiday from September the 13th – 20th; I am very much looking forward to a week of unadulterated laziness, pampering and fuss at a luxury health spa not too far away! I have never before visited one of these, but suffice to say I will doubtless return buffed, massaged, polished and pummelled into a glorious and fragrant vision of tactile womanliness, and aim to extend this for as long as possible by cleaning my face properly, drinking gallons of water, always wearing my Marigolds when dishwashing and not staying up until 3am.
It should also prove to be a suitable time to add to the new pictures – as you may have seen (and including the above image, which I reproduce here without shame as it is one of my new favourites) there are a few recent additions to the site – I had promised I would be refreshing it regularly! The popularity of my outdoor pics has tempted me to arrange more, hopefully before the weather turns well, worse, and the thought of another alfresco meeting is indeed enticing – even the prospect of summer rain isn’t so appalling and I do have a pretty floral cagoule if required, although it would probably be prudent to leave it out of the photographs. I will be preparing a completely new Gallery section in time for Christmas – any suggestions please get in touch!