Huge apologies once again to those who have missed out, particularly the gentleman whose appointment today I had been looking forward to – rescheduling will be eminently possible by this time next week, and I will be tentatively taking short incalls from Monday assuming things calm down and the painkillers work – no guarantees. Until then I will be remaining safely on the couch, with possibly a gentle detour to the swimming pool, since the left side of my head already resembles a flotation device. By way of passing the time (since I have been home alone now since last week, and am running out of reading, viewing and knitting material) I have pondered on a question I am commonly asked which arose yet again whilst in London: ‘What’s A Nice Girl Like You Doing In A Job Like This?’

Firstly, I am well aware that my chosen vocation is not the only one which inextricably generates the most gratuitous stereotyping – we have all heard that accountants are boring (mine isn’t), builders are cowboys, and that lawyers and estate agents couldn’t lie straight in bed (no comment) and so on. Shelf stackers are the new thick (when I was at school it was emptying the bins, a singularly desirable and well respected occupation nowadays) and everybody knows that bankers are the new scum. But my job would appear to be the only one where even our customers, those who – lets not forget – are paying us significantly large sums of money, seem to be genuinely surprised when prostitutes turn out to be nice?

The word ‘nice’ can encompass a lot of things, and to clarify a little, on the occasions I am asked it is usually after I have opened the door and welcomed my guest not dressed like an extra from a Max Hardcore film, demonstrated my ability to not only string a sentence together but actually hold a conversation, spent at least ten minutes in a room with Mr Punter without scowling, moaning or texting anybody and probably even smiled a bit, as is my general demeanour when presented with folk who have picked me out, come along to make mischief and have a jolly time. None of this presents a particular stretch to me, and what I have always wondered is that if my gentleman visitors were not expecting me to be chatty, friendly, obliging and generally a good egg, yet were STILL prepared to turn up and hand over a couple of hundred quid – what exactly were they expecting?

Now, I can only speak for myself, but it is worth pointing out a couple of things – I, whilst generally fairly placid and amenable, am most certainly not Nice all the time as anybody who has got on the wrong side of me will testify. I am not educated (doing well at school being another trad Nice Girl trait which is why I mention it, since it seems to be a misapprehension laboured under by a significant proportion of those who meet me) and whilst I have over the years encountered ladies who would give a privet hedge a run for it’s money in terms of cognitive ability, this has made no difference at all to their personal qualities or their ability to do their job. Virtually every successful prostitute I have ever met has been nice, far nicer than most civvy people, and bar a couple of jaw-droppingly greedy, bitter and mercenary examples putting in an occasional appearance on some of the industry message boards (and sometimes under the guise of the most sickening butter-wouldn’t-melt posting personae) this has held true, and the latter tend not to stick around for long. Thus it could almost be said, albeit from my limited experience, that our being Nice was virtually a given? Particularly since other desirable qualities in an intimate partner – however temporary – would surely be sensitivity, tolerance, compassion and humanity, amongst others?

This is not a snob subject either – OK, I don’t offer short or ‘on-demand’ appointments, I do screen clients mainly by the way they approach and communicate with me (and yes, the text speak aficionados do go in the bin) and naturally I am at my best when in the company of people who behave kindly and respectfully; I don’t think this is a result of Niceness, just self-preservation, but I suspect that it alters the way prospective punters view me, and more tellingly themselves – I only see Nice prostitutes (or God preserve us, ‘escorts’), therefore I must be Nice too. More importantly, of the ladies who do encounter the punters I do not, their many positive reports would seem to suggest that they are the nicest of all – I believe (without checking) the current statistics on Punternet show that over 90% of FRs are positive, and whilst obviously many punters have never heard of reports and this is only one site (plus naturally not all of these positives will be attributed to Niceness per se) it doesn’t exactly suggest an industry packed full of cold, uncommunicative robot-women either. I should also state that I am talking about the people who do their jobs properly, and we all know there are plenty who do not; to say that prostitutes are all miserable, deceitful witches because of this is like saying that all window cleaners are useless because they leave streaks on the windows – they don’t, just the bad ones.

It could be argued that since I do not fill my advertising, blog or correspondence with tawdry, contrived rubbish about how I spend all my free time playing with my tits and can’t wait until I next get my hands on a massive cock because I am so horny (and when was good old British ‘randy’ relegated in favour of this abomination anyway?) all the time that I may come across as Nice in the ‘prim and proper’ sense (which is probably fair) but if I did I would still be the same prossie only with a bit of unimaginative desperation thrown in, plus there are undoubtedly people who both want and actively seek that kind of thing. My advertising would in my view be very boring, although it’s worth pointing out that this is practically de rigueur on Adultwork, and a blog with no cheerful tragi-touting would be an odd one indeed. Most crucially, none of this makes said bloggers, touts and anybody else who has ever made up a load of simplistic soft-porn cobblers hoping it will win a few more over any less NICE. As the song says, it ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it…

Anyway, I have rambled enough for now and my trifle-with-a-cheeky-side-of-Metronidazole awaits. If the gentlemen who have asked over the years are reading, I am aware that this doesn’t answer your question but it has given me something to do (until I next get my hands on you-guessed-it, haha) and for that alone I am eternally grateful. Time for rest, bringing-of-the-quilt-to-the-settee, and a quiet evening. More soon.

My current Best Time for the 5k is just over 37 minutes with a few walk breaks – this is on the treadmill in the gym which conveniently absorbs a great deal of impact, and even more conveniently tells you how far you have gone and how long it took; my first foray into the world of road running earlier in the week was less successful and since I made it maybe 500 yards before having to stop, in retrospect I probably should have thought about picking an area of Scarborough which is well, flatter. As it is, and since my poor jarred hips are still aching a bit, I have made the executive decision to continue the training on the treadmill for now although as I have yet more tearing about to do over the coming fortnight it will be very much as and when I get the chance, particularly as my usual on-the-road footwear in the form of nude patent MaryJanes with 4″ heels is entirely unsuitable for sporting purposes and my lovely Brooks running shoes don’t fit in my handbag (and even if they did, my built-to-withstand-nuclear-attack sports bra would still require it’s own carrying apparatus).

The rest of the week-wise, I have been especially delighted to meet several new callers who between them shared a startling amount of common ground with yours truly including fishkeeping, a mild Tripadvisor addiction and Pimlico; I was even fortunate enough to encounter one charming new visitor not once but twice (subtitle: When An Hour Is Not Enough). I have arranged exciting escapades to far flung corners of the land and eaten far more sausage sandwiches than is good for anybody after getting overexcited at the butchers, and the remainder of the Easter weekend will be seeing me travelling in the opposite direction from the rest of the population of Yorkshire and heading out of Scarborough until Sunday evening; anyone wishing to book for Monday, please do try and get in touch promptly as I will be away from the computer for a day or so! Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday next week are spoken for already – apologies to those not fast enough…

So only a brief Good Friday update after the madness of last week’s entry, but a very Happy Easter to all, and more will follow soon – promise! And thank you kindly to all the keen folk who responded with their own Crap Towns (and even crapper hotels); I’m seriously thinking of taking up where the original left off and compiling a list. Luton, anyone?

I admit I should have had an inkling when exiting my taxi (the interior of which was spotless, and would have been a far more agreeable place to stay) and having to fight my way through a throng of bored looking, sportswear-clad guests putting out their Lambert and Butlers in the window boxes outside, but I soldiered on to reception where I managed to check in and find my way to the lifts, the sourfaced receptionist offering neither helpful directions or clues of any kind. I was curtly told that the ‘dinner free on first night’ included as part of my two night offer was not in fact free, but rather a voucher worth £18 towards dinner, which bearing in mind that the restaurant’s main courses started at £12 with most hovering around the £15-17 mark, was hardly going to make much of a dent in the appetite of a hungry food fan who has been running on lattes, wasabi peanuts, a biscuit Boost and two mini pork pies since breakfast time; obviously I was not expecting to be given the run of the menu (God forbid) but two or three courses and a drink would have been, well, civilised. I should point out that the food was very good, especially for a free dinner (which cost me £14.15).

Regarding my room, and as my charming visitor that very afternoon discovered when arriving to my partly successful (but mostly just panic-stricken and weird) ‘brave face’ attempt, I opened the door to be greeted by the sort of timewarp decor I haven’t seen anywhere in years – not a disaster in itself but not exactly conducive either.  However, whilst naff carpets, analogue-only television, no fridge and no bathrobes I can live with (plus minimal tea and coffee and a horizontal pole on the wall with those hangers which don’t come off masquerading as a wardrobe), poor housekeeping I cannot and noticing a fine powdery swirl suddenly appear when trying to switch on the bedside lights was the final straw. Now, even I realise that should I have unwittingly become the target of anthrax-wielding nutters (and stranger things have happened) it is customary for the substance to be contained in some sort of receptacle, envelopes being traditional, rather than lightly distributed over each and every one of the accommodation’s surfaces but me being me, it was with not-particularly-reduced horror I realised that this was DUST.

The last time I was presented with a dusty hotel room was in South Kensington in June 2008, and as expected I immediately requested to be (and was) moved. However upon telephoning reception, it was explained (and the scene which had greeted me in the lobby gave me no reason to doubt this) that save for the suites, the place was packed to the rafters and no alternative was available (and as the suites were more than likely just larger versions of the same thing and therefore with even more dust, there seemed little point in putting my foot down) and I would pretty much have to lump it. The thought of ringing housekeeping to request a duster and some Pledge crossed my mind, but as the in-room phone displayed no contact details for anything (not even reception and even stranger, the moneyspinners like the spa and room service) I was unable to do so – obviously the phone was the only object in the room which had been thoroughly cleaned, at least of every possible useful number.

As those with whom I have spent any time may well be aware, I am Not Very Good with dust, crumbs, fluff and things not being at neat right angles to other things and, well, you get the picture and since by this time I was hungry, tired out and thoroughly despondent I decided to leave immediately. The only thing convincing me otherwise was a stern talking to from a gallant friend who ignored my pitiful pleas for rescue and pointed out that not only I had paid for three separate lots of food, things might look better in the morning and besides, I am never more than six feet from a box of Clarityn from the moment the clocks go forward. He was wrong. Having availed myself of two of the lots of food (both excellent with the onion rings warranting an honourable mention although the breakfast experience resembled something out of a sitcom – I have never before been brought a full coffeepot and ten minutes later had to ask someone for a cup), critical mass was reached and I left at half past nine. Slightly over nineteen hours in Coventry, one taxi, three trains and a brisk walk in the fresh air from Scarborough railway station (which I have not been that glad to see in a very long time) later here I am!

So now the difficult bit – HUGE apologies to those who have been unavoidably cancelled, but trust me when I say you had a lucky escape, and any ladies contemplating a visit to Cov please do get in touch for hotel details. And the good news is that I will be available here in Scarborough again from Sunday – yay! Fairly predictably Monday is already fully booked, as is the following Saturday with an exciting trip to Newcastle (for fun and catching-up over Easter eggs with a longstanding favourite gentleman) but as for the rest well, you know what to do!

For now I’m off to bed early to watch a DVD, sleep off my spaghetti and categorically not think about what hotel-room dust is made of…

A brief missive this time, since having been back now for almost two weeks, I have (after the undignified but energetic rush of the first few days) had a pleasant and peaceful spell pottering about the apartment, catching up with housework and admin stuff and maintaining calorie intake – particularly important since, to my excitement (and not without trepidation), I have just registered to do the 5k Race for Life! As I have never in my life run any further than the oven door this is to be a real challenge, but for a very good cause and a separate page for anybody who would like to know more will be appearing here soon – needless to say all sponsorship offers are very welcome – and unlike some, it is officially the only time you will ever hear me ask for ‘Donations’…

One thing I will be needing is some proper running shoes, since my tired and elderly gym-trainers will definitely not cut the mustard on the road and obtaining these is another job on my list for my London trip in a couple of weeks. I am also planning a trip to my perennial favourite, the Natural History Museum, a look round Borough Market (time allowing) and lunch with the fabulous Kinky La Rue, triumphant survivor of Glasgow’s recent mini freeze and finally a proud Kindle owner (and even more covetably, the Apple Green case instead of my couldn’t-decide-so-sod-it black one).

As far as London goes, for a change at this late-ish stage there is still some availability, so anybody keen do get in touch! Appointments are reassuringly and steadily dwindling away, but the Thursday is still mostly free as are Saturday afternoon and Wednesday evening – as you may have noticed, I took an Executive Decision to put up my proper ads a couple of weeks late rather than spend my valuable time in Manhattan answering preliminary enquiries instead of sightseeing, shopping and ordering cheeseburgers of such commanding and improbable stature that the only way to eat them without cutting them into pieces maiden aunt-style would have been to disarticulate my lower jaw like an anaconda. Thus, anyone who thinks they may have left it too late and missed out – maybe not!

This week I am looking forward to continuing the leisurely pace; having enjoyed the company of some truly delightful gentlemen both familiar and first-time this last week (and been spoilt rotten in the process) I am hoping the trend continues and whilst I have most of the week already arranged including training runs, working on some new pictures (yay!) and some more much-missed home cooking (and not cooking; fans of my favourite chocolate-peanut-crunchie-bar-thing as detailed here should get typing) there are still opportunities for incall, and the (currently popular) outcall appointments before I set off on my travels again. As I ran/walked/ran my first 5.5k yesterday and am – incredibly – still capable of unimpaired and (almost) painless movement today, I am hoping the new regime will not prove to be a hindrance, but only time will tell…

Appointments, as ever, will be available on an advance only basis, and I will be busy over next weekend making ready for London but as ever I remain a pushover for some well-constructed syntax and emailers who can spell words longer than (shudder) ‘hun’  are welcome to get in touch. In the meantime, lets hope the sunny weather holds – I may even venture outside without a coat before the clocks go forward!

I will be in London from Wednesday to Sunday and following a seven week stint at home, am becoming absurdly excited already – not only at the prospect of spending time at my lovely hotel with my gentleman callers without having to do any laundry or housework as a result, but also having made some exciting plans for my (admittedly limited) free time; not least the Gabriel Orozco exhibition at the Tate Modern down t’road, and the Romantics at Tate Britain (up t’river), which I have been meaning to visit since August and have still not yet seen. If time allows, I am also planning my much-missed trip to the cinema postponed from last time – a move that has proved to be very worthwhile since the run up to the Oscars at this point in the year ensures plenty of choice film-wise (unlike the pre-Christmas selection, which was lacking variety to say the least, and would tempt no-one not harbouring an inexplicable and uncommonly keen interest in Harry Potter).

It would also be something of an understatement to say that I was pleasantly surprised upon discovering that Chinese New Year falls this week, and I am intending if at all possible to head for Leicester Square on Sunday for the Year of the Rabbit celebrations including the lion dance, firecrackers and as much highly-seasoned fried food as I can sensibly eat before heading for home. This is of course working on the assumption that I am not metaphorically if not literally (enjoyable though that would undoubtedly be) buried beneath a heap of fervent admirers – those attempting to book last time at short notice may remember that disappointment was almost universal, and I do fear this visit is to be likewise. Wednesday and Sunday are now fully booked, Thursday and Saturday have a single afternoon appointment left each, and on Friday just a scant breakfast hour; how long any of these will last is anybody’s guess, but I suspect not long after tomorrow.

As for the last few days, my unexpected and debilitating illness eventually took it’s leave by the end of Tuesday leaving me faintly weakened and frustratingly hungry as well as horribly bored (a friend texted me on Wednesday having found an article stating that Amazon had sold 115 Kindle books for every hundred paperbacks; I already knew this because I bought them) and recovery couldn’t come fast enough. After the appalling cold which prevented my Glasgow trip last August, I am earnestly hoping that my illness quota for the next few years has been filled, and my usual sturdy nature and predilection to glowing health will prevail!

I have never belonged to that section of the community which constantly seems to be coming down with something or recovering from something else and having spent many years in part-time shop, cleaning and bar work politely nodding through colleagues’ entire conversations revolving around what people they knew were having taken out, when and by whom, I know how much talk of such things bores anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot into a catatonic stupor within minutes. Therefore, no more shall be said about it here, and fingers crossed that should be the end of the story. The only thing I must do is thank everybody who sent well wishes, recommendations for dry toast and green tea and generally cheered me up – it’s really very much appreciated.

So the rest of the week – I have one available appointment on Tuesday lunchtime before I leave, and my next Scarborough availability will then be Tuesday 8th February. To those waiting patiently in and around SE1 – I’ll see you very soon…

Following my rare evening out, I can highly recommend the latest George Clooney release ‘The American’ (fans of trad US action-rubbish need not apply; you’ll be asleep before the second page of dialogue), fabulous northern Chinese food (see above for clay pot soup with mutton meatballs and crispy noodles on) grabbed in a bit of a rush at Red Chilli, and the star of the show upon alighting in the first place, the hot chocolate on Platform 3. Most excitingly of all, and also to be seen above, the festive spirit has even spread to the train ticket checks where the current clippy-things are a Christmas tree shape, which delighted me so much I am ashamed to admit it and nearly made up for my having to dash from the restaurant to catch the last train home without having time to order ‘Donkey Rolled in Mud’, from the dessert section.

Speaking of Christmas trees, this years proudly plump and bristly acquisition arrived promptly (considering the weather) yesterday afternoon, although by the time it was unpacked from the plastic shrinkwrap and tree-netting, carefully carried into the living room and set firmly into it’s cast iron stand it was all I could do to vacuum up the loose bits and have a nice cup of tea, and it was not until nearly bedtime that the rest of the decorating was completed (much to the amazement of the nearby fishes, whom I suspect haven’t quite figured out the twinkling lights yet). It is maybe a little early, but I left the delivery until around the 15th last year and was very upset as a result when January 6th rolled round and Tree was not looking even the slightest bit sorry for itself, despite it being time to go to the shredder. This year I and my visitors will be able to enjoy it for a whole month, and a little extra time with the VAX is not a tremendous hardship in exchange.

It would seem to be necessary to return to the current popular subject – the weather is still extremely cold and my eagerly awaited (and ever-punctual, including today) visitor this lunchtime assures me that his car-thermometer had read -11°C when he left work; in the event that those who have or are intending to book later in the week are reading, please do bear the conditions in mind when travelling! The forecast is apparently to improve from Thursday, and since I am back in London (assuming it hasn’t given up altogether and closed) from Sunday on, I am expecting to be busy. And to those who are still ringing expecting me to somehow sprout wings and materialise in York in an hour’s time – if you can’t easily get to me, HOW exactly do you think I am going to get to you?

London availability is filling up fast, although the typical last-minute cancellations and alterations are starting up – I still have availability on Tuesday 14th and a bit on Monday 13th, so do get in touch! Or don’t, because then I’ll have an excuse to hole up in the Wolseley all morning with a huge brunch order, reading the papers and scowling at tourists. I definitely intend to have my Aquarium visit this time and what with the annual trip to see the Christmas shop windows, I will almost certainly be planning any spare time I have by the end of the day before, so please do bear this in mind if you want to avoid disappointment! Any necessary changes to travel plans will be updated (as ever) here and on the front page of the site, but so far everything is on track and I am looking forward to my final visit of the year.

Back to the present-wrapping and card-writing; some of you may have noticed the unusually frenzied activity on my Formspring since the weekend so do feel free to join in too – everybody else is, it seems! And it beats listening to the weather forecast.

]]> http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/12/07/well-the-weather-outside-is-still-frightful/feed/ 0 http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/12/03/fifteen-feet-of-pure-white-snow/ http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/12/03/fifteen-feet-of-pure-white-snow/#comments Fri, 03 Dec 2010 13:12:51 +0000 amy http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/?p=4239 As some readers will have noticed, the great outdoors has once again caught everybody on the hop by – gasp – SNOWING IN WINTER and I have this week been enjoying the spectacle from the cosy warmth of my apartment, give or take brief sojourns to the gym (and especially, the sauna, where I have happily absorbed enough heat each evening after swimming to carry me through both the mercifully brief walk home and the post-arrival-coat-still-on fridge raid).

Havoc has predictably reigned appointment-wise, as I write (Friday lunchtime) the current record for lateness being one and a half hours and the average being around half an hour; to anyone who is planning a visit and (like most) travelling by road, please set off in good time while the snow lasts! I will be the first to admit that I would much rather a visitor was half an hour late than ten minutes early and since I do not work in the conveyor belt stylee, worry not about running into Eager Punter #7 on the doorstep, but please keep me informed as to your progress and I will be waiting with the kettle (and the heating) resolutely ON.

I will also point out that emailing me asking if I am ‘available for an outcall today?’ is utterly futile unless you tell me where (Scarborough, probably OK; Solihull, Bolton, Llanelli, no), at what time and how long for – I have now had three incidences of whatever we’re calling the ‘text tennis’ email equivalent in the last twenty four hours, and whilst at least it doesn’t use up all my mobile credit, it is tiresome in the extreme and I cannot be expected to agree or refuse an appointment on the basis of the aforementioned request (particularly when it arrives in the form of an impersonal forwarded message which does not address me by name – this one was actually the easiest, since it could be immediately be moved into the bin without fuss). Manners cost nothing, although it has to be conceded that not employing them will save you money in the immediate future, if you see what I mean.

Thanks to a couple of unfortunate but unavoidable cancellations I have had a gentle and more peaceful week after the chaos of the earlier part of last month, and have finally managed to get some new pictures organised! See Gallery for the first few; the rest will be uploaded as I get through the zillions I have to take to get anything like a usable image (one with me actually in the frame, for starters) but shouldn’t be too long. Thanks also to a charming and helpful gentleman who braved the climate to visit earlier today, I have been able to get all of the Christmas things out of the loft and will be spending tomorrow getting seriously festive prior to the main and most anticipated event that is Official Tree Arriving Day on Monday. Even more pleasingly, I can smugly state that I have managed to nail down my first choice Tesco Online Christmas delivery slot for the first time in a couple of years (and will not therefore be wandering the aisles at 3am on Christmas Eve. Again).

So first to the weekend; I am not available tomorrow, but may be able to fit in a couple of limited appointments on Sunday; there is some sporadic availability during next week prior to my London trip but I am already mostly spoken for, not in any small part due to reschedulings from the last few days. London is, well, busy, although there are still appointments dotted about and anyone who hasn’t already got in touch would be well advised to give it a go! I am heading out into the beautiful wintry sunshine now on a Christmas shopping expedition (having fortified myself physically with tomato soup and sausage sandwiches, and mentally with a listen to Phat Planet by Leftfield). Any upcoming changes of plan and I promise you will all be the first to know…

]]> http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/12/03/fifteen-feet-of-pure-white-snow/feed/ 0 http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/08/05/normal-service-has-been-resumed-2/ http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/08/05/normal-service-has-been-resumed-2/#comments Thu, 05 Aug 2010 20:27:00 +0000 amy http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/?p=3045 Well, pretty much – bit croaky. As the couple of intrepid gents who visited yesterday will know, I am still a little on the wonky side and with an occasional cough like an elderly workhorse but on the plus side, half a stone lighter; the gym + plague combination has obviously been something of a winner, although not one that I suspect would sell many of the colourful softback books that comprise the cynical and overstuffed Diet and Fitness section of Waterstones (and I speak as someone who once solemnly purchased a guide to the GI Diet – in other words, I handed over £12.99 to be patiently told that in order to lose weight sensibly, it is probably best to do some exercise, switch to low fat foods and not to eat sausages, pizzas and lard). The new pictures are now on the site proper after a brief trial on AW where I care little what folk think, and have (fortunately) been very well received (see right for preview and marvel at what can be achieved with little more than a truckload of makeup and industrial level backcombing);  I cannot say with any honesty that I have the energy left to take more quite yet, and these will do nicely by way of an update for now.

Today’s grand list of activities heralding my return to the land of the living have included a trip to the nail salon; they are fibreglass, believe it or not (and no-one ever does, but given the lengthy, varied and constant DIY jobs I am usually in the middle of it is the only possible way for my otherwise smooth and nicely long digits to look even remotely presentable), and a necessary visit to Rymans for printer cartridges after my generally-reliable-but-size-of-a-Volkswagen Hewlett Packard smugly turned up it’s nose at the own-brand pretenders I purchased from Tesco. False economy indeed, given that in order to save a paltry four quid I now have to traipse back and return the bloody things tomorrow, since today I couldn’t be bothered (naturally citing The Cold).

More excitingly this evening, an ambitious Power Yoga class, an hour of killer stretching, bending and posing which I am seriously hoping will not affect my ability to function tomorrow, greeting as I will be two more charming visitors who deserve better than Downward-Facing-Dog induced immobility, at least before they have even arrived. Fortunately my early T’ai Chi class ought to put paid to any creakiness, and having just prepared a two-whole-chilli, heavy on the ginger Thai seafood curry (by way of a final onslaught against lingering nasties) I fully expect to be sparklingly cold-free by the morning and hopefully, in the manner of New Year’s Eve, the school summer holidays and Big Brother, that’s it over and done with for another year (and I understand in the case of the latter, for good, although I suspect in terms of colds that may be too much to hope for). If they are reading this, I promise to leave the swimming until later in the day in order that the otherwise gentle and conducive atmosphere and mood not be overpowered by the lingering aroma of Pool.

On to the approaching weekend, and I will be floating around as usual – I do intend to be available daytimes if needed, but once again, NOTICE please. Good to be back though it is, I am not a drop in centre, my day is generally organised by 1pm at the latest, and I do not bend easily (especially after an hour of power yoga). For now, curry and TV time …

London almost fully booked….. one appointment left Thursday 19th and one on Friday 20th – that’s all folks!

In my case this was closing a seemed-like-a-sensible-idea-at-the-time spare current account (which is little if ever used, and functions only as a  background generator of waste paper and tedious cold calls) and has at the time of writing taken up over half an hour of my time  in a phone-queue, only to be told that I would have to visit the local branch as this was not possible despite a full five minutes of automated number-tapping and the type of merciless, rapid fire security-question-answering which would rival the Krypton Factor in order to prove my identity, which by the end of the call, frankly even I couldn’t claim to be 100% sure of.

Somewhat optimistically, I had been expecting a brief conversation followed by simple forms in the post to complete and return in the manner of the Tax Office, but these are not used; Barclays plc obviously preferring to keep the one and a half cashiers normally in attendance earning their living, and since the waiting time on the last occasion I utilised the branch stood at around twenty minutes it seems I will have to factor the event into my day as I might a brief appointment, only without either the fun or (most probably) the nudity.

My calculations following the much discussed budget announcement yesterday show that I am personally likely to pay the princely sum of £4.16 in extra tax (bearing in mind I do not smoke or drive, haven’t got a mortgage and rarely buy alcohol) a hike which I believe I can cope with and an example that I could only dream the people who work out utility bills, train fares and London hotel rates would ever follow. Having just paid a tax bill which could have feasibly been used to knock out a Komodo dragon, I am (perhaps fortunately) inclined to wonder what all the fuss is about; that said, sympathy must be had for those earning £150,000+ a year, purchasing houses costing in excess of a quarter of a million and keeping offshore bank accounts. Ohhhhhh-kay.

I have had an enjoyable week all in all, with (very unusually) two outcall appointments, reminding me that the inconvenience of having to leave the house in order to earn money can in fact be outweighed by the accompanying lack of necessity to tidy up and organise the bedchamber, do another load of laundry, clean out shower and toilet etc etc – in the spirit of this, from now on, all outcalls within Scarborough town centre (hotels up to and including the Clifton, say) will henceforth be charged at the usual incall rate, although the minimum outcall booking will remain one hour plus I may well change my mind in a few month’s time when the weather turns (and what may currently be a pleasant twenty minute walk becomes a re-enactment of  The Day After Tomorrow). Any confusion as to what constitutes the geographical boundary will be quickly and easily decided (by me) using a combination of factors including distance by road, probability of rain and proximity/quality of nearby takeaways.

Monday means Manchester, and I am looking forward to my visit; I will be available for appointments from around 2.30pm until 7pm, since a single determined and organised gentleman has already taken it upon himself to keep my evening occupied. For anyone who was wondering, my phone number will be back on Adultwork on Sunday (and is available free of charge all over the internet for anyone with a shred of nous and a basic grasp of how to work Google), as a break from the distinctive type of caller who unfortunately make up 90% of the telephone enquiries arising from the site, in contrast to the emailers of the site, when the proportion is probably only around 60/40 in favour of the ‘u do anal babe yeah?’, ‘ru free in next hour?’ (and memorably ‘kno u not do owo but wud you do cim???’. I kid you not.) I am generally a happy little soul but there is only so much one can be expected to tolerate, and it is only right and proper that genuine callers (and in all fairness there are certainly some Adultwork users scattered amongst them) are allowed an opportunity to speak to me when I have not been driven almost to razor-tongued madness by people who I will never, ever agree to be in the same room as, and for preference, not the even same postcode.

Next London trip almost full – two appointments left on Thursday 8th. Going, going…

As it turned out, no real harm appears to have been done and indeed my trip to Dublin was punctuated at reassuringly regular intervals with email and telephone enquiries (my heartfelt apologies for all the unanswered calls but I was gainfully employed for the duration of my visit; I have no objections to entertaining more than one gentleman at a time, but I do insist that both of them are physically present!) I should also say that anyone planning a visit to this wonderful and welcoming city is fortunate indeed – it is a rare event that one can feel at home so quickly in a foreign country and I left with a list of things still to see and do for next time (and if anyone can explain the pavement markings which say PIG TRAP, I’ll think of a reward!) As you might expect, the Guinness brewery is a must-see, as is Clerys, a proper department store which is open until 9pm on Thursdays (unfortunately for me and my poor, long-suffering cards) and Temple Bar is well worth a look if you have problems understanding an Irish accent, being as it is populated entirely by tourists. It also boasts some of the finest and freshest food I have ever eaten – I will certainly be needing plenty of exercise over the coming few weeks! Even with the 3 hour delay to the return flight (thank God for Club class) I thoroughly enjoyed myself and I certainly hope my companion can say the same, although as we all know, everything has to end sometime and the lengthy, tiring and complicated journey home having missed my reserved train was a nuisance to say the least! I am not ashamed to admit that I had a very long lie in today and am in fact still not dressed at nearly 3 in the afternoon, although this is not particularly unusual for me and fortunately no-one ever seems to mind.

I was planning a quiet time this week, but have been so overwhelmed with enticing offers I cannot see it lasting long; after all there are only so many hours a girl can spend sans company before getting bored and fidgety! Plus, it would be extremely churlish to turn down any prospective companion who has taken the time to read my ramblings and compose a polite, timely and informative enquiry (although I have managed to delete several gems from the other end of the food chain this week without a second thought – anyone who read last weeks post will surely know what I mean!) Anyway, the remainder of today will be spent efficiently beavering away with my expense sheets, receipts from my trip and currency converter; all the unavoidable administrative tasks which take up virtually all my ‘days off’. On reflection, all work and no play is really a far more desirable state, although I do concede that it helps when they are largely one and the same thing!