The Stride, bunks barns and fabulous birthday celebrations

Spent the weekend staying in a 'bunk barn' in North Yorkshire.

It was for a fabulous friend's fabulous birthday (J's - she organised the whole thing with military precision for dozens of people) and it was amazing, so much fun. Wasn't sure what to expect of a 'bunk barn' but it was just as it said: a barn, overlooking the moors, with several rooms coming off it, with 4-8 bunk beds in each. It was like being on a school trip, but without the need to sneak alcohol in.

Next door was a ramshack castle, then just across the courtyard (easy staggering distance) a great restaurant. Just down the slope: Stride Wood (site of Special Scientific Interest)* and the Stride (a narrow rockey channel where the River Wharfe is forced into a channel and tourists are tempted to jump across - only to fall in and drown**).

Was lovely to see one of my oldest friends, S (J's other half) looking the best he ever has - he's in training for the London Marathon. I spent the weekend wanting to slap his arse (I didn't, though as an old friend and ex-flatmate I have *every* right). S & J both talked to me about changing my lifestyle, it's sweet when friends worry about you (though there is no need).

We spent the weekend eating, walking (yes, I did have my latop on me...), drinking (repeat in different order). Went to the lovely restautant, drank more, I would have played drunken charades but I was too shattered.

The name of the game while staying in a bunk barn is to drink enough to ensure you fall into a deep enough sleep to not be disturbed by an Andy-Bell looklike that snores like a aeroplane - (I failed miserably at this)...

* Largest remnant of acidic woodland in Yorkshire. I once used to know what this meant, but all that knowledge / taxpayers' money has long gone.
** We didn't try that. We're older and more sensible now.

A new flatmate

Okay, I was going to get a new flatmate. The human variety. Slight change in plan.

Tonight I went to an evening thing at Kew with MJ.

I love going to evening things at Kew (which is round the corner from my hutch) and this evening was no disappointment. I came back with a new flatmate in the form of the most spectacular Cambria orchid. And it matches my sofa. Perfect.

Things I have learnt this evening:

- Kew at evening is breath-taking and it makes me smile with glee just wandering around (when I was a kid I wanted to live in a rhododendron bush and looking around the tropical house at night brings back all those feelings);

- Kew Gardens used to 'steal'plants from different places around the world (e.g. to start rubber plantations) - the French 'relocated' the vanilla plant from Madagascar but forgot that it needed a pollinator. Hand-pollination was sussed and is still used to this day (one of the reasons vanilla is so expensive);

- Vanilla is the only orchid to produce a crop;

- You can drink six glasses of wine while looking round an orchid house .

Lip-to-lip contact: A game of numbers

Last night, in my bid to Stay In And Not Drink, I had my evening carefully planned out: healthy/ steamed food (bought from the local Thai supermarket), some work to catch up on, an episode of Seinfeld then an early night complete with a good book and some fancy hot chocolate that someone bought me as a gift.

There must be CCTV installed in my flat. The *second* I was about to sit down, my phone went and I was summoned to the pub by Gordon Gekko. Being a girl who is incapable of saying "No, I'm going to stay in tonight", minutes* later I found myself in a smoky pub clutching a large glass of wine and sat between a large group of Chelsea supporters and some surprisingly non-Spanish looking Barcelona supporters (pasty-coloured lager-fuelled Chelsea haters who collectively roared with delight at Chelsea's own goal).

The evening covered the usual range of subjects: starting off with recap of work etc, the usual gossip somehow leading to the outcome of US/Iran relations and how it was all going to kick-off, miserable crimes vs 'happy crimes', rollercoasters and logflumes, and ending with a quiz of how many people we had each got involved with.

As part of this new subject GG asked me how many people I had kissed. I honestly couldn't answer - not because it's that many (really: I haven't had that many jobs and my CV has become something more fictional than Narnia due to my inability to piece my past life together).

It turns out though that my guestimate (25? 30? I was being harrassed and had to come up with a number, though I still don't know, somewhere in this region sounds about right) is a piss-poor effort compared to the several hundred that GG seems to have had lip-to-lip contact with. Yet not picked up anything nasty (or so he says).

Though, if you think of any sort of snogging as an introductory offer to anything else than his 'conversion rate' is lower than mine.

Do people have *any* idea of how many people they have snogged? Could you guess within a 5% error margin?

* Less than ten minutes. In this time I rang my parents, ate my tea, changed top and re-applied slap, checked everything was switched off several times (have thing about flat burning down), and got to pub. When I shared a house with three blokes I was always the one ready first.

Red = Stop (Drinking / watching horror films)

This was going to be the weekend that I Gave Up Drinking. Not the best start as somehow on Friday I went out for a drink after work - was convinced that I had only had about three drinks and it *must* be about nine pm, only to find out that I was pretty shedded and it was almost midnight. (I really should remember not to drink to excess).

A leisurely Saturday morning of shopping in FOPP (it's impossible to step foot in there and not spend money). Was then meant to have my haircut but had some sort of premonition that following my run of bad luck, this may not be the time to get all my hair cut off (it's tradition that I hate it and cry for the first three days or so, then love it and apologise to everyone for making such a fuss and wish I hadn't posted dogshit through my hairdresser's letterbox). Had enough of a fit for Tony & Guy to just let me go, looking quite thankful on their part and happy that they didn't have to tape over their letter box for the next week.

Not to worry though as the FOPP shopping had set me and Patroclus up for an afternoon of British horror films, earl grey tea and cranberry & orange cake. 'Don't Look Now' followed by 'The Wicker Man'.

Although I laughed loads at Don't Look Know at the time and thought the the most terrifying scene in it was the sex scene (highly entertaining),the whole use of the colour scarlet as a repeated symbol stayed lurking in the back of my brain (I really should remember that I am useless at watching horror films - to give an idea of scale: Hammer horrors and the Gremlins have disturbed me in the past). Got in last night to find that the hairs on the back of my neck raised when was confronted by my sofa (enormous, very scarlet) and my duvet (ditto). Then I had a freaky dream about a small person in a scarlet coat that atacked me - armed with the hacksaw I used to cut my Christmas tree up (to get it out of my flat on the grounds that I couldn't carry it down three flights of stairs by myself) and ended up sleeping with my bedroom, lounge and landing lights on - and considered changing my duvet cover to get rid of the sight of scarlet . Pathetic considering the person in the film was about three foot tall (how on earth did she reach Donald Sutherland's throat??? I saw no step ladder). I did like J Christie's boots though (and she couldn't half run in them, unless that was a stunt double)- oh, and that herringbone suit in the final scene.

The Wicker Man was fabulous (was that really a body double for B Ekland?) Never noticed the curtains as I don't have Patroclus's eye for 'interior accoutrements': my hutch doesn't have contain anything bought in Habitat whereas Quinquireme Towers is very tasteful and looks more like Habitat than Habitat does.

Last night I had a surreal night out with a friend's ex. One of those nights where you end up being quizzed about the friend ('are they happy? are they seeing someone else? do they ask about me? ) and you wished you'd stayed in and watched more horror films. Then again, perhaps not.

Though Peter Weir's 'Picnic at Hanging Rock' has been highly recommended as another British classic worth watching. As long as I don't have a hangover and it doesn't have scarlet as a key theme I'll probably be okay.

Bad Karma?

I’ve always thought that I’m a very lucky person – not just in relation to family, friends, where I live /work etc but the more ‘spontaneous’ element of luck too.

This seems to have changed over the last week. Some examples of this Run Of Bad Luck Which Surely Must Stop Soon.

0. (can't be bothered ot re-number list). Laptop dying.

1. Getting flat tyre while in Barcelona

2. Whilst tyre is being changed, some local coming up to me on a moped to offer ‘help’. The awful and sudden realisation that the dark-haired guy on the other side of the road and up the hill is carrying my handbag, coat, laptop, phone etc etc (luckily he was chased and dropped most of the stuff). I have been scammed.

3. Being stuck in Barcelona without credit card and mobile phone. Losing all numbers on mobile phone and some number of pics on digital camera (neither recovered)

4. Spending six and half hours at Girona airport

5. Picking up two employees from airport and getting hideously lost on the the ‘Ronda Litoral’ on way to hotel.

6. Getting to hotel to find we don't have reservations. Barcelona is hosting huge teleco show (3GSM, reason for our visit) 50,000+ visitors. All hotels fully booked. Travel agent laughed when I rang them.

7. Some luck - found one hotel room for one night. But we have to share one room (I didn't mind, but felt awful). Slept on floor next to very noisy fridge that couldn't be unplugged.

8. Someone from work was bringing my suit trousers with them so I would have them for the Monday morning (no time to get from dry cleaner before leaving). Instead of size 16 black suit trousers she brought someone else's brown herringbone – in a size 8. I get these the night before I have to go to meet customer. All I have is jeans, jogging trousers or ski stuff.

9. Not knowing the Spanish for 'very funny - I need a much larger size than that' when buying suit at 10am on the Monday morning (when shops opened). After eight minutes of browsing I end up sporting an orange tweed suit.

10. Losing around 500 Euros in cash between Stansted airport and the office yesterday afternoon

11. Getting hand burnt my door-clutching smoker on way to pub with Gordon Gekko last night

12. Being told by GG that I (this coming from someone who used to trade for a living) am a corporate whore and I should give up what I do and go and do something constructive and charitable. Seems constructive and charitable is his type. For some inexplicable reason all of this upsets me.

13. Wake up to find I have burst a blood vessel in my eye. And very bad hangover.

14. Dropping front door key on floor this morning and leaning over to pick up without realising that bag is open. Remember this as everything hurtles over my head/shoulder to floor.

15. I am now sitting, locked out of my office in the corridor. Settled on floor with laptop and coffee. Every 4 minutes the lights go off and I have to throw my handbag into the air to get them to switch back on.

I must have done something to upset the gods . I just don't know what.

Back back back

Well, I'm back. In the UK and online. Thank feck for that on both counts. Been online for work on data download, so it's been work and no play for new laptop.

Trip to Spain had, like so many things, both highlights and lowlights. But the lowlights (not so much lowlights as a succession of complete screw ups) are part of my new 'bad karma' thing. Plan to make a woeful list this morning. Actually reached a point where it was funny and I was just waiting for something else to go wrong. But bad luck seems to be continuing. Will add to list (once created) - assuming my fingers don't get jammed under an incredibly heavy object in the next few hours.

Anyhow, the picture is one of the highlights. I went running (and not from / to anything, just running for the sake of it) in the mornings - stayed just round corner from this square off 'La Rambla' and it was fabulous first thing.

Did have some fabulous pictures but had to resort to stealing this one as that's exactly what some sod has done to my pictures - along with ny camera and some other belongings.

Come back to see List of Woe - and be sure to bring a rabbit's foot or a sprig of lucky heather with you. Or any advice on how to figure out if someone has made a voodoo doll of me and is just being mean.

Word cloud

Faddy yet fun.

RIP my much-loved /used Dell Latitude

It's been quiet here as laptop has gone to the great PC World* in the sky. Hardware problems, I am told. It's being gutted (as am I by its demise) and will come back to life but go to someone else. We've had some good times though - several trips to France, Germany, the US, Canada. I have carried it everywhere.

I am giving up on Michael Dell and his laptops in favour of HP. Hopefully I will get new laptop later today - meanwhile I am on a borrowed laptop and working is clumsy (it's a Compaq and everything is the same - as you would expect - but somehow different), hence it's quiet from this corner. Frangelita: thanks for the concern, very sweet of you.

* Not true as I wouldn't buy something from those idiots if my digital life depended on it