Day 107 (28th August 2011) - Oh it's a Ladies Night...

...and nothing says 'Ladies Night' more than a Hen Night.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Challenge 24 - 'Attend Sophie's Hen Night'

Now, I'll be honest with you - Hen Night's are up there with snakes and large dogs as things that terrify me.  As a small bloke, enjoying a quiet drink in a pub or meandering down a road to find yourself confronted with an oncoming hen night is, frankly, the stuff of nightmares.  It's almost up there with being confronted by a gang of hoodies, except rather than your mobile phone and your wallet, they're usually after your trousers, your pants or a cheeky snog.  This may not sound that terrifying to some, but for some reason I've always appealed to the more mature lady - usually the very drunk mother-in-law whose teeth will end up in her Midori and Lemonade before the night is out. 

My colleague, Joe, and I were in Leeds for an event last year enjoying a quiet pint and a meal.  For those who haven't been, on a Saturday night Leeds turns into Hen and Stag central - like a chavvier version of West Side Story, with added innits and issits. We suddenly found ourselves surrounded by a mature hen night, all of whom had poured themselves into size 20 pink outfits.  The blushing bride-to-be was brandishing a pint in each hand and wearing a t-shirt (which was under a heck of a strain) bearing the legend 'fourth time lucky'.

As with stag dos, the nature and content of a hen do is a closely guarded secret that stays within gender boundaries.  As men, all we know is that it involves lots of pink, a poor underpaid stripper, lots of alcohol and various penis-shaped novelties.   Of course I now realise that at school, when all the girls are bundled off to an assembly, it's not to talk about periods, but instead involves imparting the centuries-old knowledge of how to conduct yourself on a hen night.

No offence meant to Sophie, as she like her sister, is perfectly well-mannered, eminently sensible and not the sort to wee in a glass in the corner of the local Wetherspoons but as I jumped onto the 85 bus that afternoon I was more than a bit terrified.   The theme of the night was 80s, as we were heading off to The Reflex later that evening, so I was attired thus (with a mullet wig):

Rather worryingly nobody batted an eyelid during my journey to Clapham Junction.  This became doubly insulting when I realised I'd done the whole journey with my flies open.  Clearly it takes a lot to impress Londoners nowadays!   Of course, when I arrived, nobody else was in fancy dress!

Now, I expected drinking, but good God ladies, you put us men to shame!  Stag dos involve lager - lots and lots of lager.  This is a ploy invented by men to keep alcohol levels down, as 50% of the time is spent going to the loo.  Sophie's hen consisted of lots and lots of Prosecco, each one with an added shot of gin (drunk out of a penis-shaped straw, naturally).  I'd only been there for about an hour before I had to approach the karaoke with one eye closed!  It all fet slightly odd being the odd chap at a hen do, so I'd decided to adopt a low-key approach and play the shy, retiring wallflower.  Sadly, the Gin-seccos got the best of me so I'd soon wrestled the microphone out of someon;es hands and was merrily working through my karaoke repertoire.

We eventually headed out to the City, via a very amusing tube journey which consisted of the most amazing acapella version of' How much is that Doggy in the Window' that could ever grace your lug-holes (the various parts consisted of a low 'Bulldog' a mid-range 'Terrier' and a high 'Chihauhau' - absolutely mint).

The Reflex was huge amounts of fun - as someone who still spends much of his time in the 80s, I was very much at home and enjoyed wiggling to some proper classics.  We were also joined by a few more blokes so I swiftly adopted the traditional bloke at the bar stance for at least seven minutes before the lure of Swing out Sister got too much. 

The highlight of the evening was a dance-off, which played right into Sophie's hands who promptly delivered a move-perfect Vogue (a song from 1990, but I wasn't going to quibble with the DJ) and brought the winning bottle of champagne home. 

All in all it was a truly splendid evening, in the company of some very amusing and very welcoming ladies - and with the added bonus of seeing Mrs Walker, which is joy I need to work harder on to experience more often.   I'll spare the blushes of the attendee who feel out of the cab onto to the road and had to be scraped up, needless to say it was hilarious!

Special thanks, of course, to Sophie, who is every bit as entertaining and amusing as ever and who deserves a a marriage to Chris that is as splendid as she is.  Thank you for opening up the secret world of the Hen Do.  I may just have conquered another fear.

Day 99 (21 August 2011) - 99 Red Balloons...

...are floating in the summer sky'

And they're floating to mark 99 days of Craig's Challenging Year!  Now it's been an unforgivable 19 days since the last post, an absence I can only put down to sheer lack of focus.  I could lie and pretend I've been queuing for the X Factor or watching the entire series of dodgy 80s Aussie soap, Sons and Daughters, but what the 'eck, I've just been a bit shit!

I know, I know, this is exactly the sort of lethargy that I've allowed myself to be overwhelmed by for much of my life and one of the driving forces behind starting this whole process to begin with.  It's not that I've forgotten the blog or that I haven't got anything to write about (it's never stopped me before), it's merely been a succession of 'I'll do it later's and 'I can't be bothered's .   However, I'm not going to beat myself up too much about it as Rome wasn't built in a day and I recognise that reprogramming 37 years (ouch, it hurts to type that number) of being me, to turn me into a risk-taking, spontaneous, go-getting model of almost Germanic efficiency is going to take more than 99 days. In addition beating myself up is up there with eating biscuits at work, starting every sentence with the word 'sorry' and hitting myself round the head at work with an inflatable stress bat as things I'm trying to give up.  So there!

In the meantime, BIG thanks to The G for naming and shaming and demanding I get back to posting. 

Now those of you expecting hilarity are going to be disappointed, so feel free to jog on.  Today I am a do-er rattling through tasks like Danielle Lloyd gets through footballers, so nonsense and tomfoolery shall be kept to a minimum, thank you very much...in addition to which I spent yesterday afternoon with Mr Wright so have used up all my best jokes. 

Instead, with the big 100 days looming, it seems like a splendid opportunity to reflect on progress made thus far.  Here tis:


1.  Abseil down the Royal Liverpool Hospital (Michelle) - Not achieved.  I believe this is taking place in October.  Can you resend the details, please Michelle

2. Run 'Racing the Planet - Jordan' in May 2012 (Iain) - Not achieved.  I have contacted the organisers but haven't heard back.  Must chase.

3. Attend the Biathlon World Cup at Holmenkollen, Oslo in 2012 (Ingrid) - Not achieved.  Flights have been checked out, but nothing booked

4. Attend the Biathlon World up in Antholz, Italy (Ellen) - Not achieved.  Hmmm, not going too well this

5. Take part in the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race (Rachel) - Not achieved.  Eek!!!

6. Complete an Ironman Triathlon (Jimmy) - Partly achieved.  I haven't done an Ironman, or even a full triathlon, however I did take part in the London Triathlon relay, as part of Piggy's Trotters and set a morale-boosting PB or 38:51 for 10km.  Can I have that one??

7. Find Sister Wendy's caravan (Katie) - Not achieved.  Awaiting dates from Mrs Walker

8. Visit Louis Tussauds' House of Wax in Great Yarmouth (Katie) - Not achieved.  Awaiting dates from Mrs Walker  

9. Speak Portuguese, badly, to strangers in Festa (Helen) -  Not achieved.  Holiday to Portugal postponed for financial reasons e saving for flat

10.Attend Florence's 1st birthday party in Cornwall (Alex).  Achieved.  At long ruddy last, achieved, achieved!  OK, not the most taxing of feats, but I have made two visits to Bristol to see my gorgeous Goddaughter.

11. Win a pub quiz (Kat) - Not Achieved.  Pop quiz sourced via Charlotte and taking place next week

12. Survive a night out on the town with the Birmingham Cougars (Juanita) - Not achieved.  Must chase Juanita on this one

13. Experience the maritime delights of Portsmouth (Jon) - Achieved.  Thanks again to the splendid Mr Way (hope Eastern Europe was good)

14. Set up a blog about your challenges (Helen).  Achieved.  Although general tardiness has abounded in August

15. Be a tourist in London (Helen).  Achieved.  A splendid day with the G and all done in pac-a-macs

16. Get up on stage and sing (Helen).  Not achieved...although have had two hours in Lucky Voice with The Mands

17. Break a World Record (Kate).  Not achieved.  Need to give this one some thought

18. Invent something (Kate).  Not achieved...unless words count. 

19. Flirt with a stranger every day for a month (Kate).  Partly achieved.  OK, so I haven't flirted with random strangers for 31 consecutive days, but there must have been 31 individual flirts that have occurred.  I am getting better at this one

20.Learn to play happy birthday on the banjo (Kate) -  Not achieved...but enquiries into sourcing a banjo are underway

21. Visit Ellie & Jay in Spain (Ellie)  - Not achieved - and Mr & Mrs Walker have not departed Espana

22. Truly believe how FAB you r (Amanda B)  - Partly achieved.  As time of writing I believe myself to be significantly 'fabber' than I did 99 days ago.  Big thanks to everyone who's boosted my ego in this time

23. Complete a Charity Challenge in Guatemala (Rachel) - Not achieved.  There's a trend here with overseas related tasks, namely that I haven't done them!  Flat comes first, challenges to follow.  Is that fair?

24. Attend Sophie Ladds' Hen Night (Katie & Sophie) - Achieved.  Details to follow, suffice to say it was magnificent!

25. Learn to juggle / do magic tricks / make balloon animals to amuse Florence on her birthday (Alex / Caroline) - Achieved.  Details to follow

26. Take part in the MacRide cycling challenge (Bernadette) - Not achieved.  Sadly this event clashes with another work event, so is a definite no-no

27. Learn to love dogs (Jo. D) - Not achieved.  Progress has been made with dogs (Riley the lab is as cute as a button)

28. Learn circus skills (Kat W) - Not achieved.  More thought needed on this one

29. Buy a flat in Putney (Suzie) - Not achieved.  A project plan has been developed and saving is underway

30. Come and visit me in Bath you bastard  (John) - Achieved.  And another splendid weekend had

Therefore, I can declare the following number of votes cast is as follows:

Achieved (Conservative) - 7
Partly Achieved (Labour) - 3
Not Achieved (Liberal Democrat) - 20

Hmm, c.27% of the way through the year and c.23% of tasks fully completed.  Methinks I'm slightly behind schedule.  However, there have been some marvellous achievements, most notably whizzing round the country visiting wonderful people, seeing amazing places and amassing some tremendous memories.  In addition I've smashed my 10km and Half Marathon PBs, lost some weight, gained some money and got promoted (kinda)...none of which I'd achieved for at least seven years.  There have been some setbacks along the way - alcohol consumption has gone through the roof, sleep has gone through the floor and if I'm totally honest I've shed more tears in the last five months than in the last 35 years (probably), but all things considered I think I'm most definitely on track.  That is largely down to all of you and many people who don't read this blog or even know it exists and for that and so many other things I thank you all dearly, for if nothing else these past few turbulent months have made me appreciate what truly what wonderful friends I'm fortunate enough to have.  However, its equally largely down to me cos it's my life to shape as I see fit and all in all I have a splendid life and I'm doing a pretty good job. 


...there, not sure I could have said that last sentence 99 days ago.  And that my friends, is progress

Right, nonsense, tomfoolery and general bad jokes will return next time.  Promise

Day 80 (2 August 2011) - 'It's my party...

...and I'll blog if I want to'

So, its the 2nd August.  This date means a lot to me: 

• It's the 214th day of the Gregorian calendar (215th in a leap year)
• The American Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776
• The US invaded Iraq in 1990
• It marks the birthdays of Wes Craven, Edward Furlong, Peter O'Toole, Sam Worthington, Alan Whicker, Donna Air
• ...and me!

As I turn 31...ok....35...oh, alright 37 (typing that makes me physically shudder), it seems like a good time to re-evaluate me as a person and what I've achieved in the 36 years that have gone before.  Of course, I could fill several blogs with all the detail (more in hope than expectation), but I'm already taking up too much of your time, so let me summarise it for you:

1. I've lived in Cambridge, Nottingham and London
2. I've got 9 GCSEs, 3 A'Levels, a Combined Hons. Degree in Humanities, 25% of a CIM Diploma in Marketing (with a further 50% to be added next week, fingers crossed), a clean Driving Licence, a Virgin Employee of the Year award (East Anglia Region), five Marathon finisher medals (3x London, 2 x Paris) and membership of the Tufty club.
3. I've worked at Sainsbury's, Virgin Records and Macmillan Cancer Support
4. I've never been married, have no children but have three nephews, one niece and three Godchildren
5. I've had ribs broken twice, my nose broken twice and my heart broken once
6. I've been on the TV four times, the radio c. 20 times and have met three members of the Royal Family.
7. I've been to Ireland, Spain, Germany, France, Holland, Belgium, Portugal, Greece, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Sweden, USA, Mexico, Brazil, Ecuador, Peru, Argentina, Uruguay, South Africa, Tanzania, Morocco, India, Vietnam, Cambodia and Mongolia
8. I got fat, then thin, then fat again, then thin again, then fat again, then thin again and am now heading upwards scale-wise
9. I didn't eat pasta until I was 19, Chinese until 24, a brussel sprout until 30 and still won't go near an olive, strong cheese or offal

...and that's me really!  It doesn't look a great deal on paper, but there are people who have done less.

However, it's 12.27pm on my birthday and in those twelve hours I've received 9 cards,  5 phone calls, 13 texts and 20 Facebook messages and am looking forward to spending a lovely evening with 9 of my closest friends.  This may read like a mere list of numbers, but this tells me that my 36 years on this planet have been richer, more fulfilling and more valuable than words could possibly describe.

Thank you :-)

Day 73 (26 July 2011) - 'Whatever happened to please may I...

...and yes, thank you, and how charming'

Compare and contrast:

'Sonnet 18' - William Shakespeare (1609):
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
And summer's lease hath all too short a date'

'Right There' - Nicole Scherzinger (2011)
'I like the way that you talk dirty
Don't wash your mouth out I like it dirty
You like to please yeah I like that yeah yeah yeah yeah me like it
I like the way that you keep me coming
That yeah you so good you had me running
Me like the way that he goin' down down down down down'

...and that say romance is dead.  I blame Chris Moyles.  Never got this filth with Bruno Brookes.

Day 72 (25 July 2011) - 'Millions of people swarming like flies...

...round Waterloo underground.  But Helen and Fordy cross over the river, where they can be safe and sound'

Bit of poetic license there, however all quite relevant, as will become clear.  But first, my last post appears to have created quite a stir - typical eh?!  I spend weeks writing about deep, philosophical topics (and Brian Blessed) to very little reaction.  The moment I bring sex into it, coupled with a bit of personal humiliation and everyone's all over it like a tramp on chips.  Good job I love you all, isn't it!  Incidentally, ran into 'said person' yesterday...I never learn do I?  There were probably several things I could have or should have said to restore some pride or even win a crack at Round 2.  Instead, off I went again 'I've just blogged about you'  Utter, utter twat! 

But on to the subject of today's post.  Ladies and Gentlemen I give you the continuation of Task 15 - 'Be a tourist in London' (Helen), and - you're in for a treat here - special guest starring the lady herself, who flew in from Portugal especially!  Well, that last bit might not be strictly true, but suffice to say 'The G' joined me for a splendid day out around our spectacular capital city that I am proud to call my home.  Like a modern day Rock Hudson and Doris Day, Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee or Hinge and Bracket, last Saturday saw us don our best dodgy foreign accents, grab our cameras and head out to explore Laaaandon town.

Like all good tourists we had painstakingly planned our day to ensure we made the most of our limited time.  Our packed itinerary consisted of arriving into Waterloo Station, where we would promenade along South Bank, stopping occasionally to cool down with a fresh glass of Chablis (who am I kidding?) and admire it's general quirkiness, before sampling the fine delicacies of Borough Market and have a spot of lunch, then spend the afternoon running around London like Japanese tourists on speed to pack in as many sights as we could. Oh yes, this was going to be a day of gentle and genteel sophistication.  Like a white Barack and Michelle Obama on a state visit.

But, how foolish we were, for this is the UK in July, which can only mean one thing.  It absolutely pissed down.  We're not talking a mere shower, on no, this was practically Armageddon weather.  If I ever catch that old bint who just a week before hand sat next to me on the 265 moaning about the drought, she'll feel the back of my hand.  So instead, we scampered along South Bank, like two retarded Kelly Holmes' so by the time we reached Borough Market I looked as though I hadn't made it home from a bender three nights previous.

Now for the uninitiated, Borough Market is London's equivalent of the Emperor's New Clothes.  Yes, it has some lovely food, yes it's colourful, but for goodness sake people, it's only a bunch of fruit and veg and some overpriced bread covered in ruddy seeds.  Anyone would think there was war on, such was the clamour for exotic ne'er seen items such as tomatoes and apples!   For all the fuss people make about it, I'd expected to be able to buy the hair of a unicorn or a section of the Bayeux Tapestry.  £2.50 for a chocolate brownie.  £2.50!!!  'But all our ingredients are organic and locally sourced, sir'.  Yes, what that means is that there's a greater chance of listeria and they the chocolate was a bar of Galaxy sourced from Tesco round the corner! However, so as not to appear too curmudgeonly, it does have a certain rustic charm and, on the plus side, we did manage to procure both a nice glass of wine and  the following photo, which appealed to my juvenile sense of humour:

Given the ongoing torrential rain and general footwear crises - my trainer had a previously undiscovered small hole, whilst G's ballet pumps had rotted to her feet - we decided to skip the walking tour and decided to take the bus.  Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, as we are now nearer 40 than 30 we have reached that age where a bus tour is a source of excitement - I am turning into my Mother!  But that was nothing compared to our sheer glee at the prospect of a further bonus...

...the free pac-a-mac.  £27 for a bus tour may seem expensive to you, but the delight of the free pac-a-mac made it seem a veritable snip in our minds.  Look at the joy we felt:

So like a couple of geriatrics we spent the next three hours on the red route, accompanied firstly by guide Rob and latterly by guide Emma; they swap over in Pimlico, don't you know, which in Rob's case was a good job for after eight years in the job we were honoured to be on the bus for what he described as 'one of the most exciting and eventful' days he'd EVER had!  This frenzy of excitement stemmed from the following three events, all of which we were lucky enough to witness:

• Roadworks on Waterloo Bridge
• The bus running out of pac-a-macs
• An American being caught drinking a can of lager on the top deck

...Not sure I'd have the stamina to deal with Rob's crazy life!

Anyway, we had a wonderful time and saw amongst other things:  The London Eye, House of Parliament, St Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, some nuns, at least one domestic and an old man having a wee. London really is splendid!

After all that gallivanting, and another couple of glasses of wine, we headed home for a traditional G & Craig evening (that could almost be H & Claire, couldn't it?!), namely lots more wine and a dance round the kitchen.  In homage to The G, here are the five songs which most remind me of her:

1. Jamiroquai - Little L
2. Mary J Blige - Family Affair (she made me leave a club we'd spent two hours travelling to, after just 30 minutes when this song came on as 'they can't top this'!)
3. Kylie Minogue - Love at First Sight
4. Sophie Ellis Bextor - Murder on the Dancefloor (complete with obligatory foot-stamping)
5. Steps - After the love has gone

 All in all, a lovely day, a reminder that London is the centre of the universe and, of course, that The G is a friend and person of truly legendary proportions

Day 65 (18 July 2011) - Mr Loverman

OK, so Shabba Ranks I am not, although we could almost be twins?!  I've been deliberating whether to tell you about Tuesday or not, but as we're practically family and I feel I can tell you (almost) anything, what the hell...but be warned, you really may not want to read on, so feel free to shuffle off for a jaffa cake and a Midsomer Murders instead.

Still with me?  Then gather in, as others may be listening. 

As previously mentioned in this Web Log (or Blog as we like to call it), I am not a stud.  Bright - ish, funny - kinda of, well mannered - definitely, but the Don Juan of Putney - not on your nelly.  Kate's flirting challenge has provided some degree of angst - with some rather marvellous moments too - but Ron Jeremy I am most certainly not.  If I'm quite honest my problems with sex are two fold; I'm a romantic at heart and I struggle to disengage my brain.  That's not to say I don't enjoy sex - who doesn't?  It's just that sex, for me, usually has to involve a degree of romance - you know, a bit of smooching, some kissing, some good-natured giggling and a good cuddle - and it needs to be with someone I feel relaxed with.  So when I visited a Tarot Card reader on my trip to Brighton and was left with the parting advice 'stop analysing everything and go get laid' it almost felt like Challenge #31; to make the most of being single and do what most blokes in my situation would do; namely fill my boots.

To cut a long story short, on Tuesday night following a jolly night in the pub, I found myself on a strange doorstep at 10.00pm being invited in for a drink by someone I can only describe as 'unbelieveably fit' and who didn't want me for my mind!  Now, this scenario always puts me in mind of the old Gold Blend adverts, which ran for about 10 years after which time, the couple in question finally got round to shagging.  Heaven knows why it took them so long, she couldn't have made it more obvious if she'd answered the door with her knickers on her head!  But I digress...to my knowledge I've never had a one-night stand (given I spent much of my early 20s drunk, I am waiting for someone to correct me on this??), preferring the more sensible, more romantic route of going on a round of dates and getting to know someone first.  Well my mother brought me up properly and I always like to know with whom I'm having the pleasure! My first instinct was to politely decline and do the 'decent thing' but then I remembered 'the cards' and the fact that I am the new, confident me, pushing boundaries and living life to the full.  Spontaneity is my new middle name.

I won't go into too many details, but thirty minutes later after a ridiculous amount of flirting (Kate - you'd be proud) nothing had happened.  I kept telling myself to make 'the move' and get on with it, but having not found myself in this situation for over eleven years, I was ridiculously out of practice.  I couldn't help but keep thinking 'what if I've misread the signs; what if they thought I looked thirsty and were merely being polite?  Suddenly I knew exactly why it had taken ten years to break the seal of that ruddy jar of Gold Blend.

Eventually, the stand off ended when a hand reached over and squeezed my shoulder in such a way, that I determined that I was, in fact 'in'.  This was the time to stay cool, look confident, man up and do what any stud would do.  But what would a stud do in this situation???

...whatever it is I'm pretty confident uttering the words 'nice lamp' wouldn't have been top of the list.  But there I was in full Hugh Grant, bumbling mode jabbering on like Vicky Pollard on speed about all sorts of inane rubbish, until I was silenced by a pair or lips locking against mine.  Now, think about nuns or your elderly uncle or Richard Whiteley, because you really don't need to let your mind go too deeply into this image, however with the tension finally broken, sheer, unbridalled passion commenced and it was amazing.  Within what seemed liked moments the floor was covered in recklessly abandoned clothers, just like the movies and I felt like a proper Latin lothario.  As I gazed on the most perfect, naked form I'd ever set eyes on (in real life, at any road) it felt as though a big fat man in a red suit with a big white beard had delivered sack upon sack of presents my way...

...and then the brain kicked it.  'OMG, you're amazing' suddenly became 'OMG, I'd better be good'; the 'you are sooo beautiful' was rudely elbowed out of the way by the 'Why didn't I spend more time in the gym instead of eating cake' and those moments of sheer unbridalled passion slowly became submerged under growing pressure and doubts.  I fought desperately against them and it was a mighty battle in which both sides swung back and forth and for a long time there was no clear winner.

And then the cramp hit.  I'd no idea my leg had been stuck in the one position for so long, but frustrated with my lack of attentiveness it rebelled with an almighty shooting pain which made me both wince and grimace at the same time.   As my immaculate partner became more stunning as the beads of sweat formed on their flawless face, I was left hopping around trying to regain circulation, increasingly aware that I was a red, sweaty scruff hyperventilating through the effort required to suck my stomach in and now with a limp.  In truth I started to find the whole episode quite laughable and found it difficult to stifle my giggles, but when I looked up and saw a frustrated, bemused and slightly weary pair of eyes looking back at me, I suddenly realised the whole ridiculousness of the situation. 

I went home soon after following a conversation involving the standard apologies and 'it doesn't matter' cliches.  A long, lingering kiss on the doorstep told me the night hadn't been a complete washout...and I had pulled at a level several stratospheres above my station. However, in the days that followed in which I went from laughing my head off to physically banging my head against random walls I came to realise that the studly life isn't for me.  I am destined never to be the new Callum Best, but instead will happily wait until I meet a special someone who I want to date, who finds life as ridiculous as I do and who knows how to relieve cramp

Day 60 (13 July 2011) - 'Go West, life is peaceful there...

...Go West, in the open air'

Alroight my lovers?  Look, 14 days have passed since my last post!  How did I let that happen?  Big apologies, quite unforgiveable.  Life has been moving at a million miles an hour in those fourteen days and I think only one of those fourteen has involved staying in.  It's been a whirlwind of dinner, drinking, parties, drinking, catching up with friends, drinking, karaoke and drinking.  Whilst it's been tremendous fun and very enjoyable, it's done nothing for my waistline, my bank balance or my sleep patterns.  Think this is how George Best started?  As fun as life currently is, I'm beginning to look like Dale Winton, so one of those leaves of the new variety needs to be turned over, as I am 50% drunk and 50% knackered at the moment.

However, in spite of the frenetic period, I haven't forgotten my quests.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Task 29 - Come and vist me in Bath (you bastard) - John.

John is one of my oldest and best friends.  He and his wonderful wife, Ellen, rival the Casleys for the title of 'Most Intelligent Couple in the World'.  Yet, in spite of having brains the size of small countries, they combine this with a humility, warmth and sheer daft-as-a-brushness which makes them instantly loveable.  We've been friends for nearly 30 years and although we only see each other once or twice a year, seeing him is so wonderfully easy and instantly makes me feel 16 again.  I always think of our English lessons at Sixth Form, where John would veer between making super-bright points and drawing pictures of our English teacher 'The Balloonatic' with various parts of his body up his bottom - not helped by the fact that for all his many skills and attributes, John (or 'The Cedilla' as I know him) is quite possibly the most piss-poor artist on the planet (sorry Cedilla).  I would spend much of my time trying to stifle laughter, normally with a good deal of success (it was the drama classes); sadly this is John's other failing; he seemed to think that biting on his finger or holding an Arden Shakespeare immediately in front of his face would disguise the fact he was shaking uncontrollably and snorting!  Unbelievably, that same teacher told my Mum at Parents' Evening, that John was a great influence on me?!  Dread to think what would have happened with a bad influence?

So, last weekend, I headed off to Bath for two days and as always, had a thoroughly lovely break.  We laughed - a lot - most of it led by total nonsense, just as I like it, and enjoyed great food (Ellen's hospitality is second to none) and lots of wine (surprise!).  John and Ellen were, as always, exactly as I left them: amusing, hospitable and generally loveable in their beautiful home which exudes warmth and contentment from every brick.  With both being / having been English lecturers (they're both Drs, don't you know!) they also have a veritable library which always fascinates me.  I always secretly enjoy thumbing their Penguin Classics in their spare room (one of these days, they're going to catch me!
As anyone who knows me will testify, I regularly and openly champion London as the best city in the world.  Granted, there are lots of places I haven't visited - Kabul may be lovely? - but as much as I love New York, Paris and Barcelona, nothing quite compares to what has been my home for the last 13 years and I can never envisage living anywhere else.  Yet, whilst I can't reconcile the thought of not having London on my doorstep, I found myself being seduced by Bath's charms.  Maybe I need to indulge in some proper human to human seduction, maybe it was being with one of my oldest and bestest friends, or maybe Bath really is that lovely.  Whatever the reason, I found myself looking in estate agent windows and considering which area of Bath would suit me best.  Not that I'm going anywhere yet, but for a fleeting moment I had a vision of a totally different life that may lie ahead of me.  Bath is, quite simply, stunning. 

As I headed back on the train to London (seeking flirting opportunities, as per Kate's instructions - none forthcoming, sadly) I realised that whilst generally in life I'm all a bit up in the air and a tad lost, those few hours with close friends were worth a gazillion drunken nights out.  Now, if I can just hang on to that thought...