Nothing to see here

Today was such a lovely day that Paul and I decided to go for a walk on Hampstead Heath, and even though it felt like we spent the best part of the afternoon waiting for the bus over, it was beautiful once we got there. Euan McGregor plays a gay man in a new film shot on Hampstead Heath - 'Scenes of A Sexual Nature', but we didn't see him anywhere. :(




I had had a force 10 hangover, but running to the gym and back had reduced that to a force 8 - too much beer and red wine last night with Louise, Jo, Clayton, Jari, Lucy, Brock and Jason. We had been at Islington's cool-ish 'The Green', then had tapas and some lovely tempranillo from Ribera Del Duero. I had planned to have a quiet weekend on the alcohol front, but fortunately events conspired against me.

Paul arrived home Friday night with champagne to celebrate my new job. It looks like I've landed another job with our main client, but at this point in time I'm not really sure what it is. I was rung the other day to ask if I would put myself forward for it. The job was with a few agencies as well, but as it was so great it seems I was the only applicant. Hmmm. I'm not too sure what that means at this point in time. I think it's more a of project management role, and the project runs until June next year, so I'm hoping it will all work out and it's a permanent way out of my current role. I'm pretty excited by it, but a bit nervous too.

Anyway, my lovely boyfriend bought champagne for that, and then we had steak with garlic and rosemary potatoes, so some Yarra Valley red was consumed with that....add last night's drinks in and the plans for a light weekend went out the window......there's always next weekend I suppose.

The Price of Fame

Sorry, I was a bit slack last week - since I was featured in theguardian, I've been fielding calls from call centres all over the vast subcontinent of India wanting to know if I'm happy with my package. Not to mention calls from Max Clifford and literary agents.

So the weekend before last we headed out to Julie's to celebrate her birthday.
(Manners don’t prevent me from saying how old Julie was, but my keyboard doesn’t have numbers that big.) We headed over to Lee and Keirsty’s to celebrate with the cuisine of two former colonies. The negotiations for the order were more involved than the Doha trade round, but I emerged triumphant, managing to maintain my demands for a full Naan bread and mixing Chinese and Indian starters. I think I might take Peter Mandelson’s job, as I fit the two criteria: 1) I’m gay and 2) have a full head of hair.

Anyway I digress, the night was good fun, Julie seemed to enjoy herself, as did Nana D who repeated the lines "I don't suppose I'll be here next year" and 'I don't like Indian, and I only like Chinese starters", like a buddhist chant all night. In other news from the evening, Josh and Georgia have chicken pox, which meant Josh pulled up his shirt at every available opportunity to show his scars. He needed less encouragement than his uncle at a nightclub to remove his shirt.

Sunday was spent sunning ourselves and picnicing at Hampstead Heath Ponds with friends, which involved the usual swim and then constant monitoring of health for the next 24 hours to ensure the bracken water didn't bring on some bizarre stomach bug.

I still have the scars from Wednesday night, where I stupidly challenged a 25(?)-y-o to a bungy run at Paul's work. It involved running down an inflatable lane and attaching velcro pads at the end of the lane. You are then pulled back down the lane by the cord, removing most of your skin in the process. I suppose it was cheaper than dermabrasion. Next time I'll pick someone older and my own size.

Saturday night we went down to the new Bar Code at Vauxhall with Stuie and Lee. It was full of an 'up for it' pre-clubbing crowd, and the bar itself was unusual in the fact that money has been spent on it. And the aircon on the dancefloor works! Result. We ran into a few people we know down there too, so had good night, although the place was packed and that meant long waits for drinks. It's open until 3am (which is exciting in itself, as since licensing laws were relaxed last year, the City of Westminster hasn't granted many late licences in Soho), so there's now somewhere decent to go if you want a lateish night out, but don't want to go clubbing.

Hampstead Heath Spring 2006