I get asked about ‘touring’ (my inverted commas, because I still think it’s an odd use of a word more suited to stand-up comedians) a lot – in person, on my Formspring page, on SAAFE. Punters visiting me at home after a quick look on Google can’t understand how it works (How do people know you’re going to be there? Isn’t there enough work in Scarborough? How do you know where to go?) other ladies can think it’s a path paved with gold and a solution to all their financial woes (it can be lucrative, but it’s not a fix-all) and civvy folk are either envious at the idea of getting to circumnavigate the globe (or at least the country), stay in fancy hotels and eat takeaways every day (bwahahahaha) whilst being paid for it, or horrified at the admittedly sordid-sounding idea of a holing up in a hotel room servicing an endless queue of punters morning, noon and night. The buffet breakfast if it’s included (and the hotel is large and busy enough to feel comfortable partaking – not often) can be a bit of a high point, too.

The long and short of it is, working away in ordinary short stay accommodation is the easiest way I know to safely fit as much work in as I know how and more than I would ever dare try at home, whilst seeing a bit of the land (and even other lands) and stopping myself getting bored – meeting people who are different to me and most people I know is fun, and usually they are keen to meet me too! The possibilities are practically limitless, and whilst done properly it’s extremely hard work (in common with anything else with large potential returns), the return is pretty instant and a trip can form part of a mini break somewhere else, as well as a real head-down-and-graft cash boost for anybody who needs one. I can go wherever I like, work as much or as little as I wish and it means that the pressure at home is off, meaning that the fortunate folk who catch me when I am back in Scarborough find me far more relaxed as (and don’t take this the wrong way!) I don’t really need to see them – I can see the gentlemen I want to and turn the rest away.

As far as glamour goes (and I can obviously only speak for myself), the bulk of my days tour-wise are spent dashing in and out of the shower whilst praying that the towels I’ve stashed will last the course (and also that the CCTV didn’t spot me filching them from the trolley) whilst trying to catch up on messages and missed calls from during the last booking and getting ready for the next, and hoping that I’ll get something to eat other than biscuits within the next couple of hours. Everything has to be planned to the minutest detail, from deciding on the Landmark (a point within view where arriving punters are to be directed) and when I’m going to duck out for an hour so housekeeping can do the room (so at least in theory the uncomfortably conspicuous Do Not Disturb sign doesn’t have to be on all day) to where the nearest bank/food shop/emergency branch of Superdrug is and even then there are always the wild cards, such as those rooms which are the very model of contemporary comfort and prossie-friendliness in every way until you discover all too late that the air conditioning doesn’t work, the shower requires a City and Guilds to operate or the mobile signal is slightly worse than one would expect to receive in an underground car park in Krasnovodsk.

Travelling is boring and expensive to many but if you are somebody who doesn’t get enough peace and quiet, a three hour train (or even better, coach) journey to sit and peacefully read with headphones on is bliss, especially if there’s anything along the way to make it worth looking out of the window. Flights are horrible generally, and Manchester Airport in particular is one of the most appalling places on earth. Staying in nice hotels is lovely, although the idea that there is no housework is a bit optimistic when you’re flipping quilts and sheets, swapping pillowcases for clean (more filching) and washing out knickers and stockings for the nth time that day. Not to mention trying to sort out the bathroom disasters that some exuberant visitors create – on one occasion this involved my spending over an hour cleaning up Johnson’s Baby Powder after it was flung over every surface, following a lengthy shower which must have been angled somehow straight at the sink and mirror in order to catch and soak all the dry towels and toilet rolls on the ricochet. Thank God it was the end of an otherwise fairly pedestrian day (and I know I could have left it for the housekeeper, but would you?) but if it had been for the 5th, 6th, or even 10th time…

With regard to repetition, see again the point about showers – why there are people who fuss about having the ‘first appointment’ of the morning (when I can categorically state that by around 3pm I will have probably had five or six showers and be pretty much as clean and muck-free as it is physically possible for a human being to be outside an oxygen tent in an intensive care unit) is destined to remain a complete mystery as long as I live, especially bearing in mind that the first booking of the day is the one where I’m at my most grumbly, disorganised and generally rubbish, like most people when they have just got up and arrived at work. Bizarre indeed. Then again, early appointments (far earlier than I would attempt at home, when even having one eye open at nine am would be unlikely unless the place was on fire) are a lot of fun, and sending John Q Punter off to work with a spring in his step prior to smugly ringing housekeeping and requesting they get cracking with the room (while you wander along in your finest slobgear to Costa for tea and muffins and get all your banking done on the way) is a very fine way to start the day indeed.

This is of course assuming you’re busy. The not-busy work trip is no different to any other depressing, frustrating and expensive business endeavour, and surely every lady who has ever given it a go will have at least one woeful tale to tell! Mine have ranged from arriving at my ‘four star’ accommodation to find an oversized shed on an industrial estate with no digital TV or proper furniture, but enough dust to bring on an asthma attack (Coventry), the aforementioned Nice But No Mobile Signal (Liverpool) and the slightly-less-than-a-morning I lasted in Glasgow before switching my phone off and going out for the day instead. But these are stories for another day.

As some will remember, my birthday is fast approaching! Sunday will (as per) be off limits but all being well (and we are staying lucky with the weather, aren’t we?) it will be business as usual until the end of the month when I will be packing for my next Big Trip, starting with the first London visit of 2012 and ending with a long overdue return to Guernsey, by way of Jersey and another new venue! I do hope everything works.

Thankfully, the most onerous necessities have been gently dealt with; laundry is laundered, packing is unpacked and I have even thrown caution to the wind and ordered an online Tesco delivery for the morning, the main reason being that up until an hour or so ago even the thought of showering and dressing myself seemed a task so insurmountable as to be beyond consideration – frankly the thought of tackling a weekend supermarket shop was enough to make me weep.

I have enjoyed my week away a great deal and met new gentlemen aplenty, although Cambridge-wise (as with Oxford) I had little or no free time to explore further than the local Wagamama and an extremely grandiose branch of LloydsTSB. Both the Botanical Gardens and the Fitzwilliam Museum will have to wait until next time, although I suspect neither are going anywhere just yet and given the number of appointments I had to turn down as well as the very pleasant ones marked as Mission Accomplished (albeit in a hotel room which one could theoretically have used to force rhubarb – we really haven’t got the hang of air conditioning yet) it is likely to be sooner rather than later. And on the Wednesday, the opportunity to get up at eight thirty, have a bath and head off for a brief train ride to London was possibly the most beguiling part of the plan – those who are used to my itineraries will know I normally get up around half past five and leave the house an hour or so later to arrive at Waterloo for elevenish, and even people who are fond of me can’t have failed to notice that by six-seven pm I’m beginning to flag a bit.  An hour on the train and a twenty minute cab ride instead – bliss!

My first day was completed with a couple of joyously lively callers, both of whom appreciated the view (after yet another minor reservation mix up, I decided to put my foot down in the politest way possible after the nerve-shredding and farcical carryings-on some may recall last October) from the mini-suite and will hopefully call again – the heat outdoors was such that my brief ice-cream foray onto the grass at Jubilee Gardens was extremely short-lived, and barely fifteen minutes later I was forced to beat a retreat and continue enjoying the sunshine strictly as an observer. Luckily, one thing my favourite London pad has never let me down on is serious onboard temperature control, and I whiled away a pleasant couple of hours shivering appreciatively whilst pink, sweating and over-excited tourists jostled over on the bridge to take more pictures of the London Eye every time it moved six inches.

London, naturally, took it’s revenge later that evening when my outing to see Chicago necessitated not only a trip to Covent Garden tube station in thirty degree heat, but a walk up all one hundred and ninety-three of the spiralling stairs when it became clear from the seething mass of pastel-coloured jersey around the lift that a few minutes’ uphill struggle would be far more prudent than waiting to see if the apparatus was even working (and I don’t think it was). The show (and the Cambridge Theatre itself, not to mention the post-production KFC) was fabulous, well worth the journey’s trials and tribulations and I may even go again. But I’ll walk – Christ, it must be all of twenty minutes away, and had I not been so desirably full of Fruitellas (and thank you to the gentleman who remembered my favourites!) Diet Coke and the Colonel’s secret eleven herbs and spices I would almost certainly have walked back; the most underrated pastime in the capital by far has got to be walking from one bit of it to another, and it never fails to amaze me how many people don’t do it. No wonder they get lost.

Fast forward through the rest of the week – puntertaining (including some very damp visitors who bravely battled the torrential rain on Thursday), shower, bank, nick/stash more towels, eat M&S iced bun and cup-a-soup, repeat. After the aforementioned lunch I managed to drag my Whole Week Away (ie. approximately the size and weight of a Citroën Xsara) suitcase back onto the train home and the plan for this week is categorically nothing-too-strenuous, at least for the next few days. The observant will have already noted that I am away for my nearly-regular Champneys recharge (where the bar will be raised to previously unimaginable heights of non-strenuousness) next week until Thursday and then it’s one more week at home before I’m heading west for the Isle of Man and Cardiff – more new territory! Yay!

London, I’ll be back before you know it. Proper update when I’ve come round a bit…

I have in fact had an embarrassingly enjoyable and lazy (almost) week off; following an ill-advised appointment on Monday afternoon I decided to return to the far safer and more realistic leisure route, and have over the last few days caught up with two long overdue box-sets and staged my own impromptu mini-horror film festival (invitees: me), spoilt myself rotten with comfort food aplenty (and to those who thought I would never eat anything as déclassé as a Bird’s trifle, please see above) and made a fair old dent in my Kindle, or its contents, at least. Admittedly the gym-going has suffered (there is nothing quite like excruciating dental pain to put you off intensive cardio on a warm June day) but after a gentle-ish Pilates class to test the water, I am now officially back on duty from tomorrow and Sunday is actually almost fully booked already. Yay!

I have a good few plans over the next few weeks when in Scarborough, so whilst incall availability will not be reduced as such, the days and times I can entertain will be rather more rigidly limited and as soon as I muster up the will, I will be adding some sort of availability indicator either here or on the main site, which will also be tweaked a little so patience please if it disappears on and off for a bit; it is to do with Hosting and Servers and other exciting things that I do not claim to understand the first thing about. Fortunately I am not in charge of this, so the whole process is likely to pass smoothly and unnoticed by all.

More travel news; I have been getting properly organised for the coming summertime excursions, starting with next week’s visit to my home city (of my early years at least) Newcastle! I am visiting the Toon for extra-curricular reasons which I will not bore readers with now, but I do have ample free time on the Thursday next week as well as a bit on Wednesday afternoon/evening; I am well aware that this is not a town where booking in advance is enthusiastically embraced, but since I’ll be there anyway the potential for some awayday fun will be very welcome after the recent tooth-enforced drought (and also allows me to bung the hotel and travel costs through my expenses). I am also pleased to announce my first visit to the Isle of Man at the end of August; the basics are sorted, and all I have to decide now is how much I want to work while there, given that it is summer, there will be motorcycles, my lovely hotel is close to the beach and my usual keenness to explore continues unabated…

For now, it’s back to the salt-water mouthwash and Nurofen and patiently awaiting the moment when I can once again eat crisps without wincing. And sunshine!

The minor downsides were more than made up for by an exceptionally plush room upgrade following a particularly trying reservation cockup which was almost, but not quite enough to put me off my stride, bearing in mind that I was left with precisely half an hour afterwards to calm down, unpack and ready myself for my first visitor (a charming gentleman not without problems of his own that day; after agreeing we should both probably have stayed in bed we decided to test the theory, which turned out rather well), an excellent moules/steak béarnaise & frites/banoffee pie dinner later that evening and an exciting assortment of callers old and new to keep me occupied over the following days – to those who missed out, I will be back in December and am making arrangements already.

My best-laid plans for a visit to the Aquarium were annihilated by vast queues every time I looked, and those who visited will not be too surprised to hear that a fair bit of the little spare time I had was enjoyably spent relaxing in my extremely luxurious London digs; I did find time to have cheeseburgers and fat chips with the very lovely Lilliana (a longstanding confederate and fellow tea-drinker) along with my fellow moderator on SAAFE, the delightfully posh Emily Jones – both at the same time and for free, dagnamit! Our original plan of laying waste to Soho’s branch of the Hummingbird Bakery was somewhat scuppered by the discovery that whilst it was replete with fabulous baked goods, proper hot chocolate and currently a very fetching Halloween window display it does not fact boast a bog, and since even people who eat £5 pieces of cake need to wee occasionally (particularly after an hour and a half of window shopping, battling the tourist crowds and negotiating the elaborate maze of dig-everything-up-ask-questions-later fencing currently making its presence felt at Tottenham Court Road), we retreated to a nearby bar for gossip-and until home time.

I also managed to catch up with the ever fabulous Kinky La Rue, one of my favourite ladies who, never being one to say no to a cupcake herself fortunately helped me make up for my loss the day before and a carb-heavy, garlicky and informative lunch was had down the road beforehand, since I had already checked out and was feeling decadent (and don’t like anyone to sit near me on the train). Being in the early stages of planning an exciting new venture early next year, and her fortunately being very much in the know I was very happy to be able to pick her brains as well as moan, rant and howl with laughter about the day to day stuff that those outside the job would never believe in a month of Sundays. As for the new venture, all will be revealed, but not just yet…

As I mentioned before, the rail engineering works meant catching a replacement bus from York onwards, another minor irritation in theory, but which in practice actually turned out to be far more warm and comfortable than the usual train, and considerably more so than the platform at York station; as I have certainly mentioned before, this particular point on the map is possibly the coldest place in England irrespective of season or prevailing weather conditions, and even the taxi driver who assisted with the final leg of my journey (I know it isn’t far, but do bear in mind that I was tired, full of pizza and cake and accompanied by a suitcase the size of a Nissan Micra) agreed that it was probably haunted, since nothing else could realistically explain the constantly Arctic temperature. I finally arrived home at half past ten, to find that the keys for the four padlocks on my suitcase had gone missing and had to get the bolt cutters out. Bloody typical.

To this week, and I am already booked on Thursday, most of Wednesday and Tuesday morning – the stoic and valiant punters of Scarborough have been extremely organised! I will be around now until my Scotland trip on the 8th November; having found alternative accommodation which I am much happier with, I am looking forward to my visit far more, and will be available from around 3pm on the Monday until close of play on Tuesday – I will be arriving in Edinburgh on the Wednesday afternoon and am free until the early evening, all day Thursday 11th, and even first thing Friday morning (for the particularly intrepid).

I have even prepared myself to some extent for the fact that the local gentlemen apparently dislike planning in advance, but the usual rules will still apply. Anyone ringing and expecting to just turn up sometime in the next hour will have as much luck as they do here in Scarborough but reasonable queries for later in the day ought to be fine, provided you’re happy with the idea that if somebody else has got in first, you’ve got no-one else to blame but yourself. For now, I’m happy to return to my usual gentle routine – as ever, those who would think they would like to join me, there’s a few free seats…

This last week has been predictably busy, and the onslaught following my return from Leeds was virtually immediate – charming new callers aplenty and a welcome return to normality after the school holidays, but the resulting tiredness has left me extremely glad that my long awaited R&R is only twenty-four hours away. Some bits of me are gladder than than others, it has to be said, although the people who make Sudocrem will be happy, plus I have definitely got my share of extra exercise to make up for the coming days spent in the prone position, wallowing in a cosy dressing gown (the place does have a fabulous gym as longer-standing readers will remember from last year’s excursion, but whether I am tempted in or not will depend entirely on whether I can remain awake long enough after getting reacquainted with the comfy settees in the lounge room).

I have also been tying up various odds and ends including the ever more inventive content thieves, the most bizarre discovery being this very week and resulting, hilariously, in my being counter-accused by the protagonist of copying her, despite my site (complete with text) being archived in the Wayback Machine for over two years – when this was pointed out I was haughtily told that ‘lots’-of-sites-use-the-exact-same-text-actually. Funnily enough, Copyscape didn’t seem to be able to find them (and by all means run my Etiquette page through it, detail fans). I have good reason to suspect that the majority of the recent copycats originally discovered my site through SAAFE, and after some deliberation, I have decided to temporarily remove the link to see if it makes any difference – this does not make me happy, but neither does spending hour after hour chasing the hard-of-thinking and their hosting companies round in circles. Enough.

Jersey is, as tentatively predicted, looking extremely busy and after many enthusiastic and delightful enquiries things are starting to seriously fill up. I have also been arranging my next London visit, and dates will be posted in a week or so after I get back – I am planning another visit before Christmas and any free time will be spent eating pastries at Maison Berthaud, pottering around the London Aquarium and looking at the Christmas shop windows. If I don’t get chance in October, that is – and anyone who would like to accompany me is very welcome to offer! And needless to say, in the meantime I will be comfortably ensconced at home in Scarborough – the evenings are slowly starting to draw in, the heating is back on (albeit low), the visitors have mostly gone and the return to calm serenity in my little corner of the South side is palpable, and very welcome indeed.

But for now, the gently scented atmosphere and three gourmet meals a day of luxury spa life are beckoning. Back next week!

Unfortunately I have also had guests of the uninvited variety – Anobium Punctatum, or the common furniture beetle; yes, a woodworm by any other name is still a woodworm. More fortunately, my aforementioned two-legged visitor happens to be (amongst other things) an expert in these matters and has reassured me that the little bastards are unlikely to eat my apartment, confined as they seem to have been to a single picture frame containing one of my favourite acquisitions. Apparently they like plywood.

Chemical warfare was sought out and purchased, newspaper laid, all doors closed – the treatment is lethal to aquarium fish and needless to say I have been fretfully worrying about the fumes all weekend, despite wearing two pairs of gloves for spraying and changing clothes (well, pyjamas) afterwards.  The beloved objects of my concern have been happily digging in the gravel, stuffing themselves with thawed out bloodworm and showing no signs of distress whatsoever, completely oblivious to the unpleasant business in the very next room and I believe I have got off fairly lightly, although I will be repeating the treatment in a few weeks just to be on the safe side. Once again, the glamour value of my daily existance is unequivocably proven …to be not much, although I did recklessly celebrate until I felt a bit sick with a very fetching array of smart Belgian chocolates presented to me by a kindly caller early in the week.

Bathroom news and the job is almost finished; among other things I have this week successfully and without incident put together a flatpack cabinet in under two hours, bought fixtures, framed prints and lovely new towels and discovered that silicone lubricant is superb for removing excess mastic from hands. Who knew? The next main-ish job will be underway shortly, but is unlikely to affect day to day operations bar a day or two where someone other than me is going to be wallpapering – needless to say I will keep things up to date here.

I know that some have already noticed the ‘QUESTIONS’ box to the upper right, and whilst I am the first in line to cynically denounce the likes of Facebook and (God forbid) Twitter, Formspring.me is proving more interesting, any and all questions are genuinely welcomed and I can say with complete confidence that they WILL be answered! The only exceptions (and I admit to deleting two so far, but it’s early days) are those which are so badly composed as to be unreadable; text speak is surely not an appropriate way to address a complete stranger and since I do not reply to booking enquiries written thus, I’m afraid I will not be spending my free time trying to decipher and respond to sentences with no vowels, structure or discernable purpose. A little effort reaps rewards. Honest.

To this week and Bristol – I will be preparing and packing tomorrow; there are pockets of availability left but not many, and I am planning visits to the Clifton Suspension Bridge and hopefully the zoo (although since discovering that there is no Left Luggage at Temple Meads, my plans for kicking up my heels and making a day of things on Friday have been curtailed somewhat). I will be back in Scarborough next weekend, and here for a week before heading off to Glasgow.

Back to the toolbox lingerie drawer for some gentle stocking-pairing (or whatever it is people think I do all day long). Until next week…

I, however, am rarely afraid to express a view although this time it was to no avail, and after a desperate plea eventually obtained a small desk fan for aiming at the bed in an attempt to take the edge off. Unfortunately, the stultifying and oppressive heat rendered the conditions similar to sleeping beneath a pile of fat, panting Labradors after a lively game of ball, and I had to settle for the odd restless hour at a time until, typically, Wednesday rolled around and my final night cooled off a touch. My return in August will now be played out at a nearby but alternative venue; rest assured that everybody’s comfort will be top priority, mine included.

Minor irritants aside, I have been happy to welcome both regular visitors as well as a few new friends, and have enjoyed lots of treats including wonderful Vietnamese food, the hotel’s delightful health club (the irony of sitting in the sauna after my swim prior to spending the night in its counterpart was not lost on me) as well as trips out to the pictures (as ever, but the Curzon Mayfair – bottom right pic – was particularly fabulous), inadvertently running into a film premiere (‘The Killers’ – top left picture – no, me neither) and a visit to the Tate Modern on the special boat, an  activity that on its own had me beside myself with childish excitement having not been on any sort of boat for a considerable amount of time. The last would probably have been in the Maldives some two years ago now, although the Thames and the Indian Ocean do not share many similarities other than basic chemical composition, and even then there is probably some room for debate. I can highly and unreservedly recommend the current Exposed exhibition at the TM, which filled three hours of my afternoon pondering the topic of ‘voyeurism, surveillance and the camera’ and contains many moving, some shocking and all fascinating images, many surreptitiously taken and spanning from the earliest days of photography to the present. Some, I might add, were even a bit rude (although considerably less so than bits of the Pop Life exhibition earlier in the year which I loved, despite it leaving me with a low-grade migraine, backache and a short-lived but no less irresistable desire to shag Jeff Koons).

My usual luck on the art side was to run out on Thursday when upon arriving an hour later than intended for the Summer Exhibition Buyer’s Preview at the Royal Academy (an event some will know that I look forward to every year, and have always aimlessly wondered how many other Working Ladies get invited to given that I never fail to spot a couple), I found to my bitter disappointment that each of three pieces I was interested in buying was spoken for by the time I fought my way to the sales desk, and I left somewhat forlornly until I realised that by making no purchase I was technically over £2000 better off, and immediately made haste to the Oxford Circus Topshop. The story does not end there, on returning home I sent a hopeful and speculative email to the creator behind my favourite of the three (a textile artist and hobby entomologist; very much my kind of lady) enquiring about a possible commission, and lo and behold, another ‘Moth Balls‘ is available and will provisionally be mine once it finishes it’s stint at another exhibition running concurrently. Thank God I couldn’t find anything I wanted in Topshop.

Anyway, back to the week in hand. As some of you will know I intend watching a great deal of football in the ensuing days and as a result will not be taking any short notice appointments – the four people who have already tried today (including the gentleman who rang asking for an incall at ‘twelve or one-ish’ at er, quarter past twelve) have been courteously turned away and invited to try another time after reading the website. The Adultwork phone, predictably, is gainfully occupied with receiving abusive text messages from a particularly cowardly and ignorant individual who thought I was the bees knees until I politely requested that he follow my profile instructions for making contact and use the on-site form, whereupon dummies were spat and as ever, my superlative screening system for the site known variously as Adultwank, the Other Site, and Timewaster’s Paradise came into its own.

Availability wise; I am provisionally available on Friday, and possibly for a short while on Wednesday afternoon – that’s it. This does not include evenings, when I do not normally work but I can offer a few limited appointments over the next few weeks given that large portions of my usual entertaining-time are occupied with the World Cup. Bandwagon-jumping is not my thing, and I will not be donning a cheap, tight white T-shirt with a red cross on it and pretending to understand what’s happening on the pitch whilst talking all the way through it and blocking other people’s view in the pub – my 50″ television and well stocked fridge will be more than ample and I am looking forward to the tournament very much.

As ever, email for bookings, blah blah, no same day, blah blah, you know the rest by now. Have a great week everybody – I’m pretty sure that I will. Oh, and hope you like the new photos! More to follow soon…

My elderly and long-suffering cooker which refused to play ball for a full two weeks is now gone and my days of subsisting miserably on carrot sticks, guacamolé, malt loaf and Cup-a-Soup are a distant memory, although this dire emergency did at least give me the opportunity to rediscover (after some fairly determined hunting) the nostalgic joys of the humble Breville; granite-edged and crisply golden without, and nerve-shreddingly volcanic within – I have discovered through lengthy experimentation that tinned tomatoes present a level of hazard unacceptable even to me, and these were jettisoned in favour of my childhood favourite filling of Prince’s corned beef with brown sauce. Happy days.

A week later, I am now happily ensconced with my spanking new and gleaming steel stove, eventually fitted two days after it’s actual arrival by my friendly local electrician since the good people at Comet are unable to distinguish between a qualified tradesman and a well-intentioned delivery man with a screwdriver. The official Dish of Ritual Celebration was moussaka, and I am gearing up for scones, cayenne potato wedges and possibly a fish pie later in the week. Having also finally tackled the mending pile,  vacuumed the stair carpet and completed the most put off grouting job since records began, I am feeling warm and wriggly with accomplishment and whilst on something of a roll have also begun the long awaited new pictures in earnest – sneak preview on the top left. Next week brings an opportunity to amass some follow-ups to my  scenic outdoor shots from last July, but only the weather can decide this and in the event of temperatures mirroring those of today, I will have a few alternative ideas up my sleeve (and  more than likely a flask of Bovril in my bag).

Normally I would spend a quiet weekend virtuously updating accounts, preparing for my next trip and maintaining the secret and never-discussed ladies day to day upkeep (which ensures that you will thankfully never encounter me in anything even close to a natural state – possessing as I do two distinct and separate eyebrows, for example), but having spent most of the week attending to the mundane (and the less so; I still have to mend the bit of the bed broken in the course of duty on Wednesday, but that’s another story), I am spending today watching the snowfall out of the window, eating luxury hot cross buns from M&S and trying vainly to pair nylons – I am becoming so used to unpacking just to repack that my suitcase is now ever ready with the requisite ruffles, playthings and all of the usual accoutrements required for a rainy (or not so rainy) awayday. All I have to do is replenish disposables, check batteries and remember to wash my knickers.

Another week à maison awaits before my eagerly anticipated trip to Liverpool on the 1st – I have been keen to visit the city for some time and am looking forward to it very much. Please note that I will be available from Tuesday to Thursday inclusive – Monday afternoon and evening are booked up already, and whilst other appointments are dotted about more randomly I still have availability on all three remaining days – please ring or email for details! As you may have seen, my next London visit (usual venue, for those in-the-know) will be shortly after Easter (eggs optional), and as ever, availability is going FAST.

New photos coming very soon…

]]> http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/02/20/a-womans-work-is-never-done/feed/ 2 http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/02/01/all-is-safely-gathered-in/ http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/02/01/all-is-safely-gathered-in/#comments Mon, 01 Feb 2010 21:10:07 +0000 amy http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/?p=1603 Today’s message comes from the comfort and privacy of the 26th seat on the 563 National Express service from London Victoria; my newly purchased dongle (whose tiny size, plain appearance and friendly-sounding name belie its might) is providing the wherewithal for myself and Vaio to browse, answer mail, and compose this blog entry, even as we hurtle away from Milton Keynes into the heart of the M1 (with a promised ‘refreshment’ stop at Tibshelf services to look forward to in a couple of hours).

I have had a delightful few days in London, one notable exception being an apocryphal story best reserved for relating in private, if for no reason other than that I have so enjoyed the expressions of those I have told (ranging from disbelieving and incredulous to completely and totally appalled) that I reserve the right to get a little more mileage out of it yet. My visit concluded with an all-too-rare spag bol and gossip evening with a lady friend (and ex-confederate) hitherto lost to civvy street, but fortunately this has not affected her energy, charm and sense of humour as much as one might expect, and an unashamedly girly do was had, leading me to miss the last tube and necessitating a taxi ride back from Kensington High Street to Pimlico at a cost of £15, but we don’t sweat the small stuff and anyway, hailing a black cab in the street is yet another on my long list of my secret favourite things.

Leaving this aside, I have enjoyed not only the usual sublimely tactile and oft energetic ‘kit-off’ fun and games, but also been charmed and touched to receive many thoughtful birthday presents from my kind London gentlemen and I would like to humbly thank those concerned (and you know who you are) for making this latest visit hit some very high notes – I will soon be back, and to all I have promised, I will pass on the dates as soon as I am organised. For those who couldn’t make it, be reassured at least that both mugs and toaster were proudly in evidence, and my trepidation en route proved to be unfounded as this time around my apartment was very much fully equipped (bar an ipod dock, but there had to be something) and I am looking forward to my return. However, Birmingham beckons next week, and for a change, I am keenly anticipating meeting the Midlanders!

This week, therefore, will be set aside for warm and comfortable hibernating, quiet contemplation and domesticity as well as unpacking (and almost immediate repacking), general catchings-up and another brave stab at getting on with the decorating. I do have appointments available, but plenty of notice please – I am not a drop-in centre, and the usual half-dozen or so daily telephone calls expecting me to be available within the hour are becoming extremely tedious (to this end, I have temporarily removed my number from my Adultwork profile, just in case anyone was wondering, as this is far and away the site where the majority of users seem unable to read anything other than digits). Email, as ever, for preference, and in view of the weather (which I have yet to see, but apparently once again, Scarborough has some), please also allow adequate time for safe travel!

Am now taking bookings for Liverpool at the start of March – tips and suggestions also welcome, as the city (apart from the airport) is new to me and I am as ever, keen to explore both indoors and out. Ring or mail for details and with a bit of luck, I’ll see you there…

]]> http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/02/01/all-is-safely-gathered-in/feed/ 1 http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/01/07/baby-its-cold-outside/ http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/index.php/2010/01/07/baby-its-cold-outside/#comments Thu, 07 Jan 2010 12:00:03 +0000 amy http://www.adoreamy.co.uk/blog/?p=1452 I write today courtesy of the newly-discovered free East Coast wi-fi (which some may suggest ought to be treated with suspicion following the laptop-mangling/annihalation disaster which concluded my last London visit), on my journey home from the notably snowier than usual city of Edinburgh where I have been elegantly residing since Sunday, and feeling rather like an extra in the sort of über-budgeted family blockbuster which usually makes an appearance on general release around December 20th.

The entire city has been swathed in a crisp and sparkly white duvet since my arrival which has made the atmosphere particularly festive, even several days into the New Year and not forgetting to purposefully ignore the lethal-looking quagmire of menacing coal-black slush banked up unavoidably at the sides of the road, a fair amount of which I am bringing home by way of unavoidable souvenir being as it is soaked (in quantity) up the back of my trouserlegs (all of the trousers which fit me nicely everywhere else are far too long for my woefully tiny legs). Fortunately, the gentlemen of Edinburgh are a determinedly robust bunch and other than the almost complete (but considering the appalling weather travelling-wise, not in the least surprising) cancellations on Monday (and a particularly grating no-show on Tuesday just as I thought I had made up the lost ground) I am returning home feeling especially invigorated, in no small part down to the charming company, delightful surroundings, plenty of (very) fresh air and a celestially good scone I had about an hour and a half ago at the John Lewis rooftop restaurant.

All in all a pleasant and revitalising trip and another welcome chance to explore and add to my expanding onboard Google Map; although my slightly ambitious plan to become a walking Sat Nav one city at a time may have been a little premature and I am concentrating on learning the bits I need to know properly for now, at least. As I type, I have no idea whether the trains back to Scarborough have been affected by the weather and a planned 24 hour London dash next Monday will hopefully not be jeopardised, especially as I have been promised afternoon tea, a guitar lesson and possibly a Lebanese meze, time allowing (and bearing in mind that the gentleman making this gallant offer has not yet seen the size of me since the last set of photographs and the subsequent combined efforts of Thornton’s, Mr Kipling and last but not least, a good friend in Scotland who plied me with fragrant Balinese roast duck, leek and potato curry with coconut and coriander, chocolate banana mousse and not forgetting a couple of bucketloads of champagne and a watch of Strictly Ballroom. I have, thriftily as ever, appropriated tickets for the National Express but only time and the Met Office will tell as to whether things go ahead or not, and I will be keeping a keen eye on the forecast over the weekend. I suspect I won’t be the only one.

So far as the remainder of the week goes, tomorrow and Friday are already almost entirely spoken for, weather permitting, and some fairly dedicated housekeeping is also beckoning if for no reason other than at some point soon, the apartment will need to be properly relieved of the last few Christmas tree needles, glitter and tiny shards of hazel and brazil nut shell (December also being the only time of year you can buy proper nuts and I have often wondered how long they keep once purchased; it is easy to assume that things which show no outwardly obvious signs of spoiling somehow occupy a mystical state of suspended animation, a bit like food purchased from Marks and Spencer).

My availability for London appointments towards the end of the month is disappearing fast, and as previously stated ad infinitum, no same day appointments will be taken after 2pm, or with less than two hours notice. Frankly in conditions like those currently prevailing, it will take at least that long to take off the one set of clothes and put on another (and I have wondered more than once if there may be an as-yet-untapped niche market somewhere in fetish-land for the  charming baby pink thermals I purchased around this time last year for my trip to Budapest). If this weather keeps up, a few unsuspecting visitors may be finding out – form an orderly queue, folks…