The general public (and other things I dislike)

"High on a hill lived...

2007-10-24T18:10:00.000+01:00

...Lady and Mr Librarian, Lay-ee ode-lay-ee ode-lay hee-hoooooooo"

I'm sure that's what Julie Andrews meant to sing. We seem to attract hills. Every house we've ever lived in together has been right at the top or right at the bottom of a steep old hill, meaning that at least once a day at we've had to walk up the blasted thing.

We're moving to Norwich, and Norfolk is a county that is known for being flat. On the way there you can see for miles and miles across endless fields and huge big skies. And yet we've still managed to find a house on top of a hill. When we went to view it the first time, I thought I was going to die walking up the damn thing (I was very hungover, we had to stop halfway up). The second time, a lady in the street smiled at us and said "it's much better going down" or some other such pleasantry. This time I nearly did die - of shock. I wanted to shout after her "we live in London, please don''t speak to us in the street unless you're going to mug us. It confuses us".

Anyway, it's worth the trek to the top of the hill, we have the most amazing view of the cathedral, city and miles and miles around. And even better than that - we will be living in a house (a house!) with three bedrooms (three!) and a downstairs loo (like the Queen!). It's a good job we've got the downstairs loo, I'm not sure I'll be able to make it up the stairs after tackling that hill...

Tickets please!

2007-09-29T09:18:00.000+01:00

Do you know who I won't miss when we leave London? The miserable man who works in the ticket office at our local station, that's who. Heaven forbid that man should actually speak to you, he has now added throwing your change at you to his repertoire. He doesn't do it quite so well as he does reading his paper and ignoring you - he dropped 5p of my change on the floor as he was hurling it towards me, amature - but I'm sure with all the practice he'll be getting, he'll have it perfected soon.

Leaving London. Part Two.

2007-09-28T20:45:00.000+01:00

The last time we left London we went on an 8 month round the world trip. Vowing never to set foot in the Big Smoke again, after the final flight home we lasted two months with my parents before we panicked that our friends would forget us, and we came back. Three years later, we are older, wiser (we now know that our friends will visit us. Promise them fresh air and cake and these people will do anything) and moving the hell out again.

I have a new, fantastic job, working for the brand spanking new University Campus Suffolk and we're going to be living in Norwich (insert Alan Partridge joke here). Both Mr L and I are super excited, and despite my pleas for him not to pack everything up just yet, I came home tonight to a half empty kitchen. I have no idea where our coffee machine is, but I suspect it's in a box somewhere...

So, seven weeks today I will be closing my present library up for the last time. I'll be very sad to leave my job, after a rough-ish start I've grown to really love the library, my colleagues and the library members. Even the consultant who has more questions than the Spanish Inquisition. And after I've locked up the library, I'll head into town to the Knight's Templar where we held our last farewell, and as I'm downing my pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea (thanks Booky B) I'll be keeping my fingers crossed that this time we can stay away for good.

Or at least until December 12th when I see the Manics in Brixton.

Parklife

2007-08-28T09:42:00.000+01:00

One of the worst things about living in London is the lack of your own garden, or any outside space. My mum spent the first two years of us living here in an almost constant attempt to buy us a tumble dryer, as the lack of outside drying space for our wet clotehes was giving her sleepless nights. Never mind the fact that our flat at this time was so small a tumble dryer would have taken up the entire kitchen space...

But the lack of garden really comes into it's own when the sun comes out, and you have to walk for thirty minutes to the local park, just to be able to sit outside. I did this on Saturday whilst Mr L had a trip to the library (the closed library. By the way, library, putting the fact that you are closed on a Saturday on your website the follwoing Monday doesn't really count as advanced notice, does it?).

I lasted about an hour and a half in the park, before the general public drove me away. I'd taken my radio, and the batteries died, so all I had to listen to was the Gatwick flight path and other people's conversations. The park was pretty empty, and yet a family still managed to come and sit right by me, in all that empty space....Anyway, the little girl of the family had the same name as me. Now, my name isn't that popular, so when I hear it called, my ears always prick up. And to my credit, I sat through "Abby: "sit down", "don't do that", "come here", "would you like a cheese sandwich?", "would you like a chicken wing?", "would you like a ham sandwich?". Listen Park Mum, all that your poor Abby wanted was a bit of peace and quiet.

The final straw came when looking round the park (in a rare moment of non-Abby bossing) Park Mum declared in a very loud voice "Ah! This must be what people did before television was invented!".

I was home in thirty minutes flat.

Black umbrella, Navy baseball cap, Hard-back A4 lined notebook

2007-07-03T15:40:00.001+01:00

Surgical technique A4 booklet (nail PTN system)
Blue envelope file containing printed documents
Hard-back A4 book ‘HGV Man Manual’
Banner shorthand notebook
BMT Careers A4 notepad
Paper-back book ‘The Practical House Officer’
A black and white grey dotted tie
A pair of sunglasses
A green book mark
A small blue ring note book
A CD ‘Kings College London Risk assessment and management of violence…’
Pressure Area Management Guide (leaflet)
Pressure Ulcer Classification (Information sheet and activity sheet)
Booklet titled ‘A Guide to Wound Dressing’
Booklet titled ‘Grey Matter’
Phone chip
BVNA key ring
Ring with a red flower on the front
Pink comb
Cream hairclip
Vesicare post-it pad
Blank patient info table with sticky labels
A4 notice ‘Changes to Recruitment’
Gold USB stick
CD
Grey hooded zip-up tracksuit top
Cream and brown subtle patterned scarf
Burgundy glasses case
Brown glasses case containing a small blue biro pen
A4 ring bound ruled plastic-backed notebook
Dutch to English dictionary
Double aerial device
Brown-green baseball cap
Dark grey printed ladies umbrella
One pair of black woollen gloves
One pair of navy woollen gloves
TV hits magazine
Pink novelty plastic backed notebook
Lilac ring-bound ruled notebook
Parts of the printout of an essay
Blue Nokia phone
Grey 2007 A5 diary
Green H+M jacket.

This is what we have in our lost property box in the library. And no, I have no idea why somebody would bring, and then leave, a tv ariel in the library.

I don't even know where to start on this one

2007-06-05T17:27:00.000+01:00

The "logo" for the 2012 Olympics.

Make it go away!

You Love Us

2007-05-30T17:07:00.001+01:00

Last night I went to see the Manics. A. Mazing. That's what they were. We were super close to the front and somehow I managed to end up standing behind a girl the same height as me, so I could see! I kept forgetting that I could actually see the stage and found myself standing in my usual gig position, where I look roughly 10ft above the band as that's all I can see. I had a lovely unobstructed view of James, as usual all I could see of Sean was his arms, and I was probably a bit too close to Nicky, got to see a fair amount of his undies once he donned his super short mini skirt.

What I have never, and will never get, are people who go to gigs to talk through the band. Tickets weren't cheap for last nights gig, so why would you fork out £26 and then just chat, in a LOUD voice all the way through it? Why?! Surely it's cheaper to stay at home, or go to the pub? What made this even more annoying was at the beginning of every song they said, loudly, something along the lines of "I f'ing LOVE this song" or, in the case of an acoustic number "this song is just beautiful" and then chatted away merrily all the way through it. I did say to them at one point, after an "I f'ing LOVE this song" "well why don't you shut the f up then?" but they were so busy talking they didn't hear me!

Wheels on fire

2007-05-23T17:22:00.001+01:00

This morning my bus driver (well, the driver of the bus I was going to work on, I don't have my own personal bus) stopped to help a man put out his car that was on fire, whilst the rest of the bus tutted, sighed in an exaggerated fashion and swore at being held up for literally 3 minutes on their journey, and the other car drivers drove straight past him without a second glance.

There is nothing miserable Londoners hate more than someone getting in their way, especially with such trivial things as car fires. This man's car was actually on fire, and people were more concerned with the fact that they might be a few milliseconds late for work.

What people don't realise is that on the side of the building that says "Welcome to London" is that underneath in teeny letters it says "Please leave all manners and consideration for others this side of the North Circular".

Don't tell my mum

2007-05-20T08:29:00.000+01:00

but yesterday I met up with a bloke I met on the internet. Luckily, he turned out to be a very nice man indeed and didn't kidnap or murder me, hooray! Even better than not being kidnapped or murdered was finally getting my hands on a pair of tickets for the Manics.

I found him through www.scarletmist.com after having been messed around, again, by See Tickets. In the past year they have charged me for Recorded Delivery (more or less £5) and sent the tickets by First Class Post (32p), I've had to phone them up to tell them a gig was cancelled and ask for my money back - they had no idea and this time they sent me a sale confirmation email only to follow it up 6 hours later with an email to say that there were 'not enough funds' in my account so they'd cancelled my order. Fibbers. Funny that the money they couldn't take on Thursday came flying out of the cash machine yesterday to pay the Lovely Internet Man. Hmm.

The lost art of customer service

2007-05-16T17:39:00.000+01:00

I’ve spent the best part of the afternoon trying to set up electronic access to one of our journals, I won’t bore you with the painfully long process I had to go through to actually get it, but here’s the last reply I got:

"You can furnish me with a password and I can enter it in."

What?! That’s not even bloody English. If they weren’t on the wrong side of the Atlantic I’d be furnishing them with more than a bloody password.

Our Man on a spending spree?

2007-05-04T14:39:00.000+01:00

Do a good thing today. Be entertained and get the itchiest feet you've ever had. Go here, read it, and before you pack your bags for and head for the nearest airport, leave a comment and vote for Our Man and make him a Rich Man. $500 to the winner.

Update! He won, hooray! The full weeks guest blogging can be found here.

O.A.L. Old Age Librarian

2007-03-28T17:21:00.000+01:00

So, I'm now officially the wrong side of 29. On Sunday afternoon my best friend phoned me to ask "are you suicidal yet?", and I was little unhappy in a "what have I done with my life" way. Luckily by the time I woke up on Monday, the mood had passed and I had a lovely day. It was super sunny, so, as befits a librarian of my age, Mr L & I took a stroll around the local park (where I saw an obscene amount of duck sex. Ducks! Get a room!) and then went for lunch.

As we were waiting for our food, the couple at the table next to us were just leaving. The lady rose from her chair accompanied by the "oofs" and "ooohs" that accompany us over 30s every time we do anything more strenuous than drinking a cup of tea. When she'd got to her feet, she turned to us and said "You never think you're going to get old. I don't think I'm much longer for this world". What are you supposed to say to that?

And is this what you get when you reach your thirties, no more strippers* for your birthday just a Pensioner-o-Gram who comes to tell you of the 'joys' ahead of you?

*Although I've never been sent a stripper. And that's they way I like it, thanks.

The dog ate my homework

2007-03-21T17:44:00.000Z

Ooooh, you'll never guess what happened! Well, there I was flying back to LA from Sydney when the plane only went and crashed! No? Yes! So then, I was all stranded on this island with these other damn annoying people and would you believe it - in this weird underground house thing, there was a computer! "Great" I thought, and there I was all set to update my blog but apparantly someone blogging about 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42 was more important and so it's been three months since I last wrote here.

Oh, alright. I have not been living in Lost since December (not even the faux England bit where Charlie lives). I'm just lazy.

Here are ten things that have happened since I last blogged.

1. I got a whole lot closer to 30. Boo!
2. I booked a holiday with my best friend in Tunisia - we are off on April 1st to drink for a week in the sun and forget all about the fact that we are both 30. I booked it All Inclusive and she doesn't know. The reason I decided to book All Inclusive wasn't down to the unlimited booze, or use of pedalos, but the fact that you get Afternoon Tea and Biscuits every day. Rock.
3. I gave 20p to a woman with no change who needed to use the loo at Charing Cross Station. This means that I have repaid the 20p a lady gave to me almost two years ago when I was desperate at Victoria Station and had no change. I had been waiting all that time for someone to help. Karma.
4. The library was broken into and some hoodlum stole 12 computers. Double boo!
5. I signed up for a librarians conference in April 'cus Miss S is going too, only to be told by a publishers rep I know that the kind of people that go to this conference are "hardcore drinkers" and "party until 5am". There is a disco every night. Both Miss S and I will be taking cameras, I think this has to be seen to be believed.
6. I attended a course at my old university and saw one of my old tutors. She didn't recognise me as the drunken idiot who stood on her handbag in the pub at the christmas 'do'.
7. I had my hair cut and immediately wished I hadn't.
8. I realised that I really like singing along to songs that have the word "goddamn" in them.
9. I went to the theatre in Manchester and a man was sick on me during the interval. This is what happens when you attend a cultural event in the north of this country.
10. I got a even closer to 30. Boo!

So see, apart from the burlgary and vomiting incidences, you didn't really miss much, did you?

Other triangular snacks are available

2006-12-21T17:43:00.000Z

I suspect I'm not being very professional right now. I'm running the library on my own, and I'm eating Doritos and salsa dip straight from the jar. I have spilled it down my chin, my cardigan, on my desk and on the squichy wrist rest thingy on my keyboard.

Merry Christmas!

List #2

2006-10-12T17:57:00.000+01:00

Last night when I was closing the library, I found another list.

This one said:

egg bacon
tomato

2 x glasses
1 tea

I wonder if it was the same person? And what are they planning?

Cake or biscuit?

2006-10-05T17:29:00.000+01:00

My main problem with Jaffa Cakes is not the “are they a biscuit or a cake?” debate (cake, quite clearly) but rather that they are so damn small! They are the only biscuits/cakes/niceness in the office, and I am here on my own. They announce very proudly on the packaging that there are 15 Jaffa Cakes inside, so if I eat them all, people will know just how very piggy I have been. Now do you see what the problem is?

What I need is one of these.

Every child needs this

2006-09-29T08:00:00.000+01:00

and some adults too!

www.coloursarebrighter.com

Domestic Goddess

2006-09-28T18:01:00.000+01:00

So, now that Mr L has gone back at university (or school as I like to call it) full time, I figured I needed a hobby for all those times that he's too busy studying to entertain me. I came up with lots of ideas; DIY, knitting, crafting, and just the one reason why none of those could be my hobby: I am rubbish at being practical and have no patience to learn new things. I thought about learning a new language, which I am good at and do love, but working two late nights a week really cuts your options down. That and I'm far too lazy to go to classes in the evening.

Finally, it dawned on me that I don't have to get a new hobby, I'll have more time to do the hobbies I already have (genius!). So I've taken to the kitchen with a vengeance and have started to cook more, read more cookery books and blogs (mmm, food porn) and even make my own cookery book from all the recipes I have gathered over the years. I even brought craft glue, which I have yet to cause trouble with, mainly by heeding the good advice given to me by Mrs D "remember, don't eat the craft glue".

On Monday I went shopping with some of the remaining gift vouchers that we were given at our wedding. I knew I was really an old married when I found myself in the House of Fraser kitchen section getting excited over finding a loose bottomed flan case and a silicon 6 hole muffin tray! You don't even want to know how super excited I got when i saw the sign saying "20% off all bakeware".

I can't wait to try them out. How long before my new hobby is Weightwatchers?!

They are my favourite band in the whole world ever

2006-09-28T17:30:00.000+01:00

Twice in this past week on the way to work I have been struck down by radio rage. Or rather radio listener rage. Both for the same reason, people phoning up for competitions claiming to be the biggest fan of the band ever, ever, EVER and then turning out to be total idiots.

The first incident happened last Friday, when xfm were giving away 10th anniversary reissues of Placebo's debut album. There's your first clue, right there, the ten year anniversry - this band have been bround for at least 10 years. You phoned up, won a reissue and then went into a draw to go and see them live in Milan. So, between 8-9am the dude who phoned up was indeed, the biggest fan EVER of Placebo, ooh he LOVED them, he was, in his words "a massive fan". Then the DJ asks "so, you've seen them before then?", "no, never" came the reply. I'm sorry? I thought you were a "massive fan" and yet you're telling me that in the last ten years you've never managed to see them live? Ever? He then went on to say "I thought about getting tickets for this tour but I just haven't got round to it yet". What? This tour that sold out in about an hour, that the tickets went on sale for a good couple of months ago. Hey, I only "like" Placebo and I've seen them live at least twice. Forgive me, but thinking about maybe buying some tickets for a bands biggest tour to date, is not massive fan behaviour. This, this and this is.

And then this morning, in a multiple choice quiz in which the question was "where are The Zutons from?" and the answers were a) Liverpool, b) County Durham or c) Henry Kelly, yet another massive fan had to be literally told the answer before he finally said "Errrr, Liverpool?". Good grief. Even my mum knows that The Zutons are from Liverpool.

Bringing home the bacon

2006-09-27T17:52:00.000+01:00

We have our food shopping delivered. This is not because we are too lazy to go to the supermarket but rather...oh, okay, it's because we are too lazy to go to the supermarket. Sometimes they can't provide you with exactly what you asked for, and so send a substitute. Sometimes these make sense, for example you don't have Braeburn apples, you send Coxes apples, sometimes, they make no sense at all. At all!

Imagine you are the person shopping for us (in my mind this is always a man who has never had to do food shopping in his life. Probably still lives at home with his mum). Into your trolley you have just put vegetarian 'sausages', vegetarian 'mince', soya yogurts, soya milk and many other products marked on the front with a very helpful big green 'V: Suitable for vegetarians and vegans', and then you get to the quiche section. There are no Cheese & Onion quiches left, so, bearing in mind what you have just put into your trolley, what do you send instead?

Why, Quiche Lorraine of course!

An Englishman's home is his (eco)castle

2006-08-21T15:26:00.000+01:00

I love property programmes. I love them all and can watch them for hours on end, even if they are repeats. I think it's mostly because I know there's no way we'll be able to afford our own home anytime soon, I just love being nosey and looking at other peoples (more often than not) horrific takes on decoration.

I'm on a half day today, so I made a cuppa and a sandwich and sat down to watch Escape to the Country, which is a programme about, believe it or not, people moving to the country. Escape to the Country provided me with one of my favourite property programme moments ever, where a family from Birmingham looked at houses that they could run as a B&B, and everytime they went to open a door just before they did they said "Is it a toilet?" and then when they finially found the smallest room in the house exclaimed in a very excited voice "Oh! It's a toilet!!!!!" For weeks following this episode to me and my workmate opening the drawers and doors in our office at the time going "What's in here? Is it a toilet?". Imagine the hilarity!

Anyway, todays couple wanted an eco-friendly house. It was all "we need green this" and "eco that" and he was obsesseed with double and triple glazing. They wanted to have their own veggie patch and recylced water system. When they finally found a house they liked, they went down to the cellar where Eco Man said "Oh, this is brilliant. I could have a massive TV screen on that wall, a massive leather sofa there and all my games consoles."

So that'll be eco-tv, green leather and double glazed playstations then?

It's the least wonderful time of the year

2006-08-17T18:34:00.000+01:00

As anyone who knows me knows, today is my least favourite day of the year. A Level Thursday. Whilst most rational people can let their A Level results day fade to a distant memory, mine is right up there at the front in bright technicoloured awfulness. The first thing I said this morning was "Grrr. A Level Thursday".

I hate A Level Thursday as it was one of the worst days of my life, and every year when I see all the 18 year olds who already have everything (blonde shiney hair, slimness, rich daddy) opening those godawful envelopes live on tv, only to discover that - and Oh! What a suprise! - they got straight A's, my heart goes out to all the 18 year olds who get 3D's and an E and think their life is over. Although I suppose letting the thick kids open their results only to start crying and pounding the ground wouldn't make quite as heartwarming a scene on breakfast tv. It would be more entertaining though, and at least I'd be able to relate to it "Oh, look, they've run out of the building straight to the clearing hotline to try and beg a place somewhere, I did that!", "Oh dear, she's ruinung her mascara, she could at least have waited 'til she got home like I did".

It just seems to be something I can't get over, which I should really, as it was 11 years ago. Wow, now I feel old......although to be fair, if I'd spent less time in pubs or misbehaving with boys and more time in actual lessons, I doubt it would have been so bad. I may not be a straight A girl, but boy, did I have fun!

The Big Five O!

2006-08-17T18:22:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow one of my colleagues turns 50. He doesn't seem too fussed about this, which could be down to me shouting things like "enjoy the last night of your youth" across the library to him as he was leaving today....but me and my boss are very excited! We've been planning a party for him for ages. I've made a cake (I really have to stop volunteering to make cakes, I was whipping cream at 6.15am today) and we have banners, balloons, musical candles, everything you could ever want for a party. Apart from booze, but then we are having the party in the day, a room full of librarians is one thing, a room full of drunk librarians, well that's quite another matter altogether.

Only trouble is I have to leave as the party will be starting, as I have an appointment right the other side of town, so my dilemma is this - how best to reserve myself some party snacks? I might stick post-it's on to things I like the look of, or I could always hoard things in my desk...

This is hardcore

2006-08-14T15:02:00.000+01:00

On Friday night we went out to celebrate a friends birthday. His wife had booked the private dining room here for him. She is a much better wife than I am. It was really lovely evening, a fabulous dining room to ourselves, the best food ever, good company, great service. In fact we were having such a lovely evening that it was some time before someone noticed that the pictures in the beautiful frames on the walls were porn. And why, yes they were! Lots and lots of victorian porn. Well! It was almost enough to put me off my dark chocolate and orange truffle cake.

Almost.

And judging by the bored faces of the ladies in the Vicporniana, I'd say my dessert was a whole lot better than theirs.

Lazy Librarian

2006-08-14T14:56:00.000+01:00

I'm not very good at having a lie in. Stupidly early nights yes, lazy weekend mornings no. But this weekend I have had two 9am starts (this is probably the equivalent of you lying in 'til 1pm) and an afternoon nap! I must've needed it, as my nanna would have said. However, all this lying down has left me with a really bad back. The kind that is fine until you try to do something, which means every time I try and get out of bed, get off a chair, bend down, or do anything I am making an involuntary "oooh", "sssss", or "eee-aa-ooo" noise. Which is not very attractive, and the kinda thing I wasn't expecting until after my 30th birthday.

What's that coming over the hill...

2006-08-10T17:35:00.000+01:00

...it's three people who appreciate an early night, that's what it is!

So a couple of weeks ago, me, Miss S and FM Dave went to see The Automatic. Oh, I thought we were being both 'hip' and indeed 'down with the kids' by going to see a relatively new band, and as I brought the tickets before Monster was even released (The Automatic 'Monster', not the REM 'Monster'. I don't think The Automatic were even born when that was out...) we had every reason to feel cool and smug. Ah, indie smugness, one of my favourite hobbies.

When we got to the doors a good 30 minutes after they should have opened, they were still shut! And there was a queue. A queue full of what appeared to be small children, which made us all feel 80 years old. We decided that we didn't want to stand around and wait for the doors to open, what with being 80 and all, as we needed a sit down. Ooh, our aching backs etc. etc. When we returned to the queue, the doors were open, and in we went, pausing only to remark how loud the music was - "it's so loud" - and also to note that the "loud" was still a good floor or two above us, and could only get louder.

So, to cut a long story short, we waited and waited for The Automatic to come on. And when did the cheeky blighters decide to turn up? 10pm, that's when. 10pm! On a school night! What were they thinking? Luckily they were rubbish and we decided to leave early, with a sensible loo stop on the way out, so we wouldn't have to catch the last train, or heaven forbid, the night bus home.

And that's when I knew I was old.

Senior moments

2006-08-02T18:30:00.000+01:00

Blimey, I haven't blogged in ages! Lazy old me. There are lots of reasons I haven't blogged. I am actually busy doing work at work (I know!), not a great deal has happened to me in the last two months, but most importantly, my memory is broken. In the past couple of weeks you would not believe the amount of times I've thought "ooh, I'll blog about that" only to sit down in front of the pc and find my brain is full of "errrmmm" and not a lot else.

I'll start carrying a pad and pen around with me at all times, and we'll take it from there.

Pretty in pink

2006-06-07T17:34:00.000+01:00

Next week I am going on my first ever gay hen night! The organiser says that the hen wants us to wear at lest one item of pink. She says "you MUST have a pair of pink shoes in your collection? "

Pink? Do I have pink? My wedding dress was pink! Although I will refrain from wearing my wedding dress (and only because I really don't think that it will fit me anytime soon, what with all the post wedding pigging out), I will wear my pink shoes, use my pink handbag, wear a lovely pink brooch and paint my nails pink. Not that you'll be interested, but I will also wear pink undies!

Trains, planes and automobiles

2006-06-07T17:26:00.000+01:00

This is how I got to Alicante, the full journey from leaving home, to arriving in the villa...

Walk to station
Train to Victoria
Bus to Oxford Street
Go to work
Bus to Islington
Walk up Upper Street
Go to party
Walk to tube
Get tube to Victoria
Go for a wee at Victoria (in the toilets, stupid)
Get back on tube to Heathrow
Get Hotel Hoppa bus from Heathrow to hotel
Sleep in hotel, zzzzz
Get Hotel Hoppa bus from hotel to Heathrow
Fly to Madrid Barajas airport, terminal 4s*
Get funny underground driverless train to Madrid Barajas terminal 4
Get bus from terminal 4 to terminal 2
Get a bit lost in terminal 2
Get on metro to Madrid Chamartin train station
Get train to Alicante
Car fom Alicante station to Villa...and, relax.

Phew!

*Madrid terminal 4s - still not convinced it's actually in Spain. Should it really take two forms of transport just to leave the airport?

We're all going on a(nother) summer holiday...

2006-05-27T09:14:00.000+01:00

I spoke to my mum last night, as she is off to Spain today with my sister and my dad. Me and Mr L. are flying out to meet them tomorrow. We're staying in a friend's villa, and my burning question was "will there be towels?". Thankfully the answer was yes, 'cus as at that point I only had room in my bag for one tissue, and that's not going to get two people dry every day for a week, is it?

My mum said "Have you packed?" and yes, I had packed. Very lightly and sensibley, in just my day pack. Half of which is taken up with wedding photos. So I told my mum that I had hardly packed anything and she said "Ooh me too. I'm just taking two pairs of shoes. Wait, no two pairs of shoes and some flip-flops. And the shoes I'm travelling in."

Right mum, that's travelling light. Four pairs of shoes for seven days.

You stole the sun from my heart

2006-05-18T17:45:00.000+01:00

Conversations two grown up married woman should probably be too sensible for #1

Me: JDB is playing the barfly next week. The Barfly! when I told Mr L he said "but it's really tiny" and I said "Yes. I know. That's the whole point." It's sold out but I'm going to try and win tickets. God, can you imagine? Think of the stalking potential. Although I'd also have to make a banner saying "I WAITED for you James Dean Bradfield. WAITED. For years! And now I'm married and you'll just have to deal with it."

Mrs D: I bet he won't be able to deal with it. He'll be all "boo hoo I've lost Abby"

Me: And I'll be all "yeah, and you tell Dave Grohl next time you see him, too"

Mrs D: And he'll be all "We had a vigil when you got married - we cried and cried and Grohl wore a bridesmaids dress"

Me: Do you know what, I bet they totally did that. And I bet the bridesmaids dress was borrowed from Nicky Wire.

Glasses? Check! Strudel? Check!

2006-05-11T17:25:00.000+01:00

This list was found on a post-it in the library today:

Travel cream
Adaptor
Strudel
Creme Caramel
Take Glasses

What was this list for? I like to think it's a packing list and that there is someone who uses our library who ranks packing a Strudel and a Creme Caramel as more imortant than packing their glasses for a holiday in the sun.

Sleeping Beauty

2006-05-10T17:46:00.000+01:00

There is an elderly lady who has lunch at the same time as me, and sits in the funny bit of a corridor/staff room type 'area' where I also luncheon. Everyday this lady sits down, opens her newspaper, eats half a sandwich and then falls asleep. Her head drops down and she looks for all the world as though she is deeply engrossed in her newspaper. She is so sound asleep that no-one can wake her. You'll get the occasional newcomer to the 'area' who tries to ask if they can take a seat at her table, or pinch a chair to move to another table, and they will ask politely, then ask a bit louder, then shout, some of them wave, then they just take the chair. Nothing will wake this woman, fire alarms, kids holiday clubs in the room next door, loud laughter, nothing.

Or so I thought. But yesterday I managed the impossible. Being slovenly in my wifely duties, I hadn't bothered to make lunch and so had been to the canteen to buy some sandwiches. Being slovenly in my dieting duties I had purchsed a Double Cheddar sandwich, mmmmm, calories. I went to the 'area' and there were no seats at an empty table, so I went and sat by the window, opposite Sleeping Lady. There she was, sound asleep, until I opened my sandwiches, "zwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwippppppppp" went the plastic cover, and she sat bolt upright and looked around in a very funny "I wasn't asleep at all" kinda way, settled back down and went back to sleep. And I giggled to myself all the way through my Double Cheddar sandwich.

Lost! Series 2! hooray!

2006-05-10T17:42:00.000+01:00

So I know the world and his wife will be blogging about Lost series 2 on British tv at last, so I'll be brief.

1. Why is Marti Pellow living underground on the island?

and

2. Don't come here for witty comments on Lost first. I can neither stomach the amount of ads that channel 4 stick into the show (12 minutes worth after 3 minutes of the show?) nor stay up 'til 11.05 in the pm so I have to record it and watch it the next day.

Worth getting married for

2006-05-10T17:39:00.000+01:00

Just to hear my 5 year old godson say with a very serious face "I'll need a poo soon I've eaten so much cake".

Which pips the previous 'quote of the wedding' from the day before by the wonderful waitress "these knives are so sharp they will cut BOTH your arms off!!!" Not just a finger mind, or a hand, but BOTH YOUR ARMS.

I do (love pizza)

2006-05-10T17:31:00.000+01:00

So, the wedding has been and gone. We enjoyed it a great deal, it was everything we wanted it to be with all our friends and family around us, everything ran smoothly. Well, almost everything and as my very wise best friend said "well, it wouldn't be a proper wedding if there wasn't a problem".

The most worrying aspect of the whole weekend was the discovery that I can no longer eat a whole pizza. Luckily we discovered this after the "I do" bit otherwise Mr L would have had perfectly good grounds to call the whole thing off. Having denied myself pizza since Christmas I was really looking forward to the meal after the wedding. And I was staaaaaaaaarving hungry. So I ordered my favourite pizza, and sensibly had a salad as a starter to leave enough room. It started off well, but with a good 1/4 pizza left I was full. F.U.L.L. To the top. The shame! I put this theory to test again on our honeymoon and guess what? Had to leave 1/4 again! However, you can still talk to me as both times, despite being so full, so very, very full, I managed a dessert.

She's still got it.

Dear blog,

2006-04-21T12:44:00.000+01:00

please forgive me, I forgot your first birthday! How careless of me. I am a bad mother. If I wasn't so sick of baking, I'd bake you a cake, but after spending all of last weekend baking wedding cakes I just can't face the greaseproof paper again. Not yet.

Well, what a year it's been ey? We've seen the formation of Indie Boot Camp, put on and lost one stone in weight, laughed at Bookish Barbara, atteptmed to join not one but two GP surgeries, and decided to get married. No, not me and you married blog, that would be crazy!

Anyway, I'll leave you to celebrate your birthday. Just don't drink too much okay?

Lots of Love,

Lady Librarian

P.S. Yes, I am fully aware that this blog is the equivalent of those 'flashback' episodes of Friends that nobody really likes.

Happy Hen Night!

2006-04-20T17:46:00.000+01:00

banner
Originally uploaded by Lady Librarian.

I'd like to say that I've only just around to blogging about my hen night as I've only just recovered, but that would be a lie to make me sound more rock and roll than I am. In truth I am lazy.

But look at my banner! It is a work of beauty and I love it. I have it at home, and if we ever live anywhere big enough to put it up, I will! Click on the picture to see an in depth explanation of the banner, just like at a museum.

It was an excellent night, and went a bit like this (I think):

2.30pm Meet friends at Euston Station and nip to M&S for those hen night essentials: tea bags and champagne.

4pm Cups of tea and glasses of champagne all round and a game of 'pin the winky wonky on Dave Grohl'. This is a bit like pin the tail on the donkey, but with more rock stars and penis shaped vegetable photos.

6.30pm Everyone going "argh we have an hour to get ready and there are four ladies per bathroom!"

7.45pm I am bossing everyone into putting the finishing touches to their make up and bundling them out the hotel.

7.50pm I shove four of the ladies into a taxi telling them a bus would never turn up, and we'll get the next available taxi.

7.51pm Me, Miss S and Booky B get on a bus, realising we have sent the four ladies who don't live in London off in the taxi...

8.05pm Hurrah! We arrive at the pub and the taxi ladies are already there and getting the drinks in.

9pm Whilst I am forcing booze down Booky Bs neck like it's going out of fashion, we make friends with a young man called John. Booky B thinks she told him he looked like a male prostitute. What she actually said was "You look like a male prostitute". John replied with "Well, how much would you pay for me" Booky B "Five pounds. And I'd expect four pounds fifty change" How did this woman end up married?

10pm Head off from the pub to the club. I demand we get taxis! Four of us jump into the first taxi and I ask for a fictitious address. We want the Macadam building, I ask for Macadam Street. It's a miracle we get there. As we are pulling off in our taxi, we look out of the back window to see a rikshaw dude pulling up looking like all his birthdays have come at once. At last, a punter, willing to risk life and limb in my rickety rickshaw! And not any old punter but three lovely ladies! The three lovely ladies wave rikshaw man on and get in a proper taxi.

10.30pm Making our way into the club, we cannot manage (between eight of us, two totally sober) to press the right button in the lift. This is shocking. Three of us even worked in this building for quite a while. All the more shocking is there are only three buttons you can press - the way out, the club and for some reason floor 2. This totally flumoxes us, and we (of course) press the wrong one, pile out at floor 2, only to turn on our heels and pile back in. We press all buttons for good measure and eventually get into the club.

10.35pm I make my way to the DJ box. I tell him "hello, it's my hen night" point to my 'Abby's Hen night 2006' badge lovingly made by my sister. I continue; "if you play The Smiths or The Wonderstuff I can guarantee you at least four (hold up four fingers) ladies on that empty dancefloor (point at empty dancefloor)" DJ agrees. I think he may have been a little scared.

10.40pm Carter USM 'Bloodsport For All' comes on! Yesssss! Pretty sure that only me and Booky B knew the track, most of the kids in there probably weren't born when it was out. We dance like we're 19 and manage to take up the whole, empty dancefloor.

2am We continue to dance the night away, Booky B and Miss S attract a lot of male attention, all of them weird. Finally when our legs are about to seize up we head back to the hotel, where asking for extra pillows seems to be a very greedy thing to do, the receptionist telling us "I am very busy" forgetting that we just had to walk through a very empty reception to get to our room...

We're talkin' about money, money

2006-03-29T17:10:00.000+01:00

In particular the £30 I am worse off today after a 7 year old promise came back to haunt me.

Anyone who knows me, knows that saying "let's go see (insert name of band here)" is my number one hobby of choice, and when I am drunk it is my super number one hobby. Anyway, just before I left home seven years ago, my mum was talking about Simply Red, and how she'd love to go and see them. Now this was too much bait to refuse, so being the good daughter/obsessed with saying I'll go to gigs person that I am, I said "if they ever play round here, I'll go". Now I'd just like to point out that seven years ago the chances of Simply Red ever playing my home town were remoter than something right over the far side of on a remote island in the Unites States of Remoteshire.

Fast forward seven years, and guess what tickets I just brought? £30 to go and see Mick "lardy" Hucknall and his possee, at an outdoor gig in one of the rainiest towns in the country. Yeah, thanks Stoke City for building a stadium big enough not only for football, but also for gigs. Thanks a big bloody lot.

Bye bye indie street cred, bye bye.

Look at this

2006-03-29T17:08:00.000+01:00

Lazy blog I know, but really, look at this. It's rude and funny! Result!

Party Hard

2006-03-15T18:00:00.000Z

I'm trying to put together some 'tunes' for the party the day after the wedding. For my first selection I was thinking I'd go all 1996, you know, the year we met, and also the year of some damn fine music. The last time I made a CD for a wedding party it almost sent me over the edge. And my friend spent three weeks before his 40th birthday putting together his perfect party mix. So, in order to ease the pain this time round, any suggestions? What makes a good party song?

There are just a few pointers:

No Coldplay/Travis/Embrace/any group with whingy front man/woman.
No swearing in the song! My mum and dad will be there!
If we are to dance to it, please bear in mind that we will be drunk and in ridiculously high heels.
If we are to dance to it, and there's a routine that goes with it, all the better!
No sad songs to make the maudlin' drunks cry.
Songs which mention weddings will get you bonus points. Well, they would if there was a point system going on here. Which there isn't, becuase I'm not Tesco Clubcard.
Songs that mention librarians get 1,000 extra bonus points. Maybe I should set up a points system.
Did I mention no Coldplay? I mean it!
Booky B, I am not playing 5 hours non-stop The Darkness.
Take your cue from the Last FM link over there.

Any suggestions?

Yoga

2006-03-15T17:57:00.000Z

So what's that all about, then? A friend at work has lent me her yoga dvd, as I've been meaning to try yoga for ages (I have no idea why, I just feel I should). It was as I suspected, I am in no way co-ordintaed enough to do yoga. By the time I've worked out my lefts and rights, the bloody woman is on to the next move. And how can something so holistic make you swear so much? And the falling over, what's that about?

Why I never wanted to phone the bridal shop in the first place

2006-03-15T17:39:00.000Z

Bridal shop lady: "Hello, House of Brides"
Lady Librarian: "Hello, if I wanted to come and look at dresses, do I need to make an appointment or can I just come along?"
BSL: "Ooh, no deary. You can just come along if you want to, the only time you need to make an appointment is on a late night or a Saturday"
LL: "And if I wanted to try them on?"
BSL: "That's fine my love, we'll help you with all that, don't you worry"
LL: "Right, okay, well I should be coming along in a couple of hours, is that okay?"
BSL: "Fine, fine. When's the wedding dear?"
LL: "29th April"
BSL: "29th April next year?"
LL: "This year."
BSL: "THIS YEAR????? THE 29TH APRIL THIS YEAR???!! Why, you've left it far, far too late. This year?"
LL: "But it says you have a 6 week rapid service, and the wedding isn't for another 8 weeks"
BSL: "Oh no, I'm not doing that. I couldn't guarantee it"
LL: (thinks well why do you offer it then?) "Oh okay, bye"
BSL: "Bye" (puts phone down) "Jean, Jean! Bloody Nora, Jean! She's getting married on the 29th April THIS YEAR and she's only just asking about dresses! THIS YEAR! I need a drink. No, not tea, Jean, Didn't you hear me? I said 29th April THIS YEAR. Pass the whisky. This year!! THIS!!!! YEAR!!!!"

Mork calling Orson

2006-03-02T18:53:00.000Z

If Mork was calling this Orson, I really hope he'd be calling them to tell them to feck right off, and take their fecking stupid "song" with them. I hate No Tomorrow so much, whenever it comes on the radio I have to fight the urge not to repeatedly punch the next person I see. To say I hate this song would be the understatement of the year. The first time I heard it, I thought "this is pretty cool, I could dance to this, listen to the hi-hat in the chorus, it's all tss tss tss". Then I made the mistake of listening to the lyrics. It's like Orson swallowed the unabridged version of The Brian Molko Rhyming Dictionary* and puked them up. In time to the music. Booky B tried to convince me "they are like Shakespeare". I think she was joking.

The lyrics that makes me feel the most violent, are the rhyming of "shiny pants" with "romance"(what!?) and "red bull" with "school". Now the more literate amongst you might notice that "red bull" and "school" don't actually rhyme. And this, pop fans, is what makes me want to scream. Because Mr Orson sings "red bool" and those lyrics, are the lyrics I hate the most , ever!

* Oh, how I wish this actually existed.

Wimp!

2006-03-01T17:16:00.000Z

Checking my RSS reader, I noticed this question on a medical Q & A feed:

Q. A 24yr old man doing survival course in Philippine jungle april this year, for 10 days what vaccinations should he have?

Vaccinations on a survival course? Surely that's cheating?

Beware! This one's about the W!

2006-02-24T16:42:00.000Z

Mr L is best manning for his friend who is getting married on September 30th. Yesterday we got a beautiful, handmade invitation from them.

Us? Our invites were £3.50 for ten from Marks and Sparks, and whilst we may have written them, oh okay, written some of them, we haven't sent them yet. We don't even have stamps! And we get married in 2 months.

Oops.

Lovely hair

2006-02-24T16:34:00.000Z

Ohmygod!! How fabulous is my new haircut? And the fringe! Marvellous! Look at the layers, ooh and I like the parting on a different side. Lovely, lovely hair!

You can't have your cake and eat it

2006-02-22T17:33:00.000Z

Cake #3 The winner!

Or can you? Two weekends ago we trekked up to my mum and dads for a visit and The Great Chocolate Wedding Cake Tasting Competition (TGCWTC).

Now, at the W there will be three cakes. A traditional fruit cake which I am making (I'm using the family Christmas cake recipe, but with less Santa decoration), a vegan, alcohol free fruit cake which Mr L is making for the guests that don't drink, and the chocolate cake, which my mum is making, requested by Mr L but coveted by our godson. I can see it now, Mr L with one side of the cake, a 5 year old with the other, the cake flying through the air...

Anyway, at TGCWTC we tried four cakes. My poor mum was so enthusiastic at the beginning, we left her on the Saturday cheery and looking forward to trying out four different recipes. My sister came home at 10pm the same day to find her at her wits end wrestling with fondant icing. She made the cakes, cut them in half, iced half of each cake (there were two different types of icing) and numbered the cakes. Then we all (12 of us) had a piece of each cake.

Life's too short to explain everything that happened at the TGCWTC so here are the highlights;

Godson put in charge of giving cakes marks on chart we drew together.
We were allowed to eat the cake before our dinner - when does that ever happen? In fact my mum was encouraging it!
Cake #4 (which we tried first, don't ask) enjoyed by all, especially godson who wolfed it all down without dropping a bit.
Cake #2 full of booze and chocolate, yummy but the general consensus was that it was "a bit too rich".
Cake #3 Mmm, coffee and chocolate and delicious.
Cake #1 Mmmmm, also delicious! This is so difficult!
Every cake preceded by Mr S asking "is this cake #1?".
Me worrying about godson dropping brown cake onto mums new beige carpet. Guess who made more mess (clue: initials are LL)?
Mrs S phoning up when she got home to say "don't tell your mum, but I've been sick".
Mr L having to have the next day off work with tummy ache.
D asking for seconds! Seconds!

You should be able to see (but not taste, boo!) the other cakes by clicking on the cake above...You'll also find the epitime of the Wedding Cake; Scott & Charlene's cake. Altogether now "Suddenly you're here with meeee".

I want my MP3

2006-02-16T17:54:00.000Z

I don't smoke, I don't drink that much. My vice? My MP3 player. I can't go anywhere without it, since it arrived in the post at work 10 months ago we have been inseperable. Until now.

On Saturday night we were staying with my bestest friend, Mrs S, and I was showing off my lovely little MP3 player. My beautiful purple Zen Micro. Sob. Mrs S was saying how she wanted an MP3 player, but then admitted she didn't know what they did, or why she wanted one. I blame the continous repeating of the Balamory christmas dvd that her 2 year old insists on watching "Mummy, Mory! Moreeeeeeeeeeeey", it's obviously sent her insane.

Anyway, when we went up to bed 1.5 litres of Sangria later, I was too sleepy to actually put my player back in my bag. It wasn't until we were at my parents and leaving for the station the next day until I realised I'd left it on their bedside table! Noooooooooooooo! Double Nooooooooo!!!

I won't get it back until my mum comes to visit in THREE WEEKS!! So for now, I'm listening to my radio, my post Walkman (RIP) pre-MP3 musical accompanyment. And instead of my usual expensive fabulous, outside noise blocking headphones? I have a pair of headphones my dad stole from the open-top tour bus of London.

Sob.

Cluck. Part One.

2006-02-16T17:34:00.000Z

Whilst reading his, please bear in mind that the ladies involved in this, were also involved in this. We are also mostly librarians. We like to plan. Mostly to take over the world, mwah ha haaaa. Did I say that out loud? The following has been taken from various emails sent today, entirely in work time. Names have been changed to protect the librarian sisterhood.

From: Me
To: Bookish Barbara & Miss S.

Okay, here are my musings on the Hen Night.
1. Check into hotel as soon as we can. Mrs S wants an afternoon nap, I want my moneys worth :)
2. Get ready, with at least 2 changes of outfit per person, whilst drinking lots* and having a mini buffet like at Booky B's. Lots of M&S small food. Yum.
3. Go for a few drinks, meet the others who aren't staying in the hotel (fools!). Possibly go for cocktails* in that swanky bar that I went to with Mrs D although they are Â£6/7 a pop, yet are huge and delicious. Classy.
4. Go and shake our moneymakers at the student union. Not so classy.
5. Get back to hotel, sleep/be sick/steal toiletries.
6. For those who want to, go for breakfast/lunch (ooh I mean 'brunch' don't I?) at Eat and 2 Veg. Mmm.
7. Go home
* = Not my non-drinking sister. Boo!

How's that sound?

From: Booky B
To: Me & Miss S

I had an email about my friend Crazy Hen's (note: this is not her real name) hen night which is on the 12th of never (note: these are not the real dates) and it sounds hideous. It's in a galaxy far far away (note: this is not the real venue) for a start, and they want everyone to dress in pink and pay Â£15 each to hire a pink limo, and go to some hideous meat market to get mawled. And as I'm missing the wedding I can't really miss it. Agh! Your plan sounds much better Lady L!

From: Miss S
To: Me & Booky B

Ok - I'll leave booking the hotel to you - but anything else and I'm your girl. Balloons, banners and glitter are mspecialtyty!

To be continued....

Valentine

2006-02-08T18:34:00.000Z

No, I'm not a week early, this is actually a Public Service Announcement.

Stop what you're doing immediately and go here to pre-order the new single from The Delays. Because if this isn't the best thing I've heard in a good five years, then I don't know what is. Click on e-card to get a sneaky listen, and I defy you not to dance when you hear this. I don't care if you are at work! This song is so amazingly good, it makes me slightly hysterical! You may have noticed!

Too good to be true?

2006-02-08T18:29:00.000Z

Hey, remember when this happened when I tried to register with a new GP? This morning I finally got round to registering with a new, new GP. I walked in, asked if I could register, the receptionist smiled (smiled!) at me, said "yes, when can you come in for an appointment with the nurse?", booked me an appointment with the nurse, gave me one (not three) form to fill in, then smiled again and that was it.

I'm still waiting to wake up/fall out of the parallel universe.

Raised on a diet of broken biscuits

2006-01-25T17:47:00.000Z

I'm on my own in the library (I finally ran out of excuses not to do the Wednesday late). I am on a diet. I will not open these.

I will also not open these -

And I most certainly will not be opening these -

Yep. They are the biscuits we have in our library office. And you thought it was all 'sssh' and no fun, ey?

03/03/06 **BISCUIT UPDATE** After promising myself one of the yummy Cadburys biscuits when they were opened (thinking they would be opened after my diet had finished) I can confirm that I am now eating an Orange Chocolate Crunch. I realise this is breaking my diet, but they were opened yesterday whilst I was off sick, and HALF THE TIN has gone already, half the tin!! I'm on holiday next week, and at this rate they'll have polished them off and eaten the tin no doubt, by the time I am back, so I'm taking my chance now. I can also confirm the biscuit is yummy!

How may points for a ....

2006-01-22T15:49:00.000Z

So, as nobody likes a fat bride (see below) and more importantly as none of my clothes fit (again) and after astonishingly both losing and putting back on a stone in 18 months, I'm back on the old diet.

Now, when I diet I do it the Weight Watchers way (other ways of losing-and-putting-a-stone-on-in-18-month diets are available). After years of attending WW meetings with my mum, I know the points system inside out. Yes, I know points is very 5 years ago, but the new ways of working things out scare the hell out of me. I am a WW luddite. I am also a human WW reference book. Seriously, ask me the amount of points in an anything, and I know. With the exception of meat & fish I know that points value of everything. Hummus? Why, that would be full fat 1.5pts a tablespoon, 1pt a tablespoon for low-fat. Avacado? Thanks for asking, 3pts for half a medium size avacado (love the precise science!). So far, so good. I lost 4lbs this week. Okay, that's 4lb of the 6lb I put on over christmas, but that's really not the point.

And the best thing about the WW points system? I can hoard my points and 'spend' them on booze! Hooray for being drunk as a skunk whilst on a diet! (That's me on a diet, not the skunk).

And I'm not at all jealous of this lucky little guy. Nope, not even one tiny little bit.

Here comes the bride

2006-01-22T15:22:00.000Z

So, after ten years of saying over and over and over again how we are "never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER getting married", we're getting married. This has taken most of our family & friends by complete suprise, including those I'd told that we were thinking of it. I must say, more fun than actually deciding to get married or planning the whole thing has been telling people we're getting married.

Ways I have told people we're getting married:
1. Telling my mum and dad (who had no idea what we were planning) in a packed restuarant.
Me: "Guess what we're doing for our anniversary next year?"
My dad: "Getting married"
Me: (in a What? You weren't supposed to guess! voice) "Yes!"
My mum "Eeeeeeeeeee" (and other high pitched excited noises).
My dad: "I said the least likely thing I could think of!"

2. Dropping it casually into the middle of an email about other people's quite frankly crazy wedding planning. They had sent out pre-invite reminders (no, I have no idea what they are either) for their wedding in November 2006, in December 2005 and I just couldn't resist putting "I mean, my and Mr L are getting married in April and we haven't even told anybody yet" into the middle of an email. I got a "What?!!" and a "Sorry?" in reply.

3. Dropping it casually into conversation about dieting
Mrs D "we're eating heathily, but we're not really dieting"
Me "oh, we need to go on a diet, 'cus we're getting married in April, and no-one likes a fat bride"

4. Dropping it casually into a conversation about people visiting us
My bestest friend "And of course, we're visint you Easter weekend"
Me "Well, you could visit us that weekend, or you could come down two weeks later and then you can come to our wedding as well"
My bestest friend "What? Are you getting married for real?"
Me "Yes!"
My bestest friend "Is it real? Is it really real? Really, really, really real?"

5. Breaking the news to my ex-colleagues, who, the whole year I worked with them had to listen to me moan about weddings in general and say how I was "never, ever, ever, ever times a billion" getting married.
Me (after rather a lot of wine, for dutch courage purposes) "Ooh, you can hire this pub for a party. That's good, 'cus I'm on the look-out for a room to hire for our wedding celebrations"
Them "What wedding celebrations?"
Me (covering head for any abuse/punches that might come my way) "We're getting married, don't shout at me!"

Thankfully everyone has been really pleased, and we've had none of the "I told you so"s that we expected. I don't think I'm being a wedding bore (reason to not get married # 567) but if I am, please let me know, I'd hate to be one of those brides who can only talk about the wedding (reason to not get married #245).

Speaking of genius...

2005-12-16T16:24:00.000Z

Three things people have said to me at work in the last month...

1. Woman filling in library application form - "What country is this?". What? Let's just be glad she knew her name.

2. Woman on a Saturday library tour - "So, are you only open Monday to Friday?". Actual answer "Errr, no, we're open on a Saturday as well". In my head answer "No, we're closed, all these people here working are actors". Alternative in my head answer "Yes, and this is all a dream, a dream, a dream...".

3. Man sitting in library. That's in the library. "Are you open?" Actual answer (a very snappy) "Yes!". In my head answer "No. We're closed. That's why you couldn't get through the locked door".

Another story about too tight trousers

2005-12-16T16:19:00.000Z

I've decided to give up the annual pre-christmas diet. Maybe 'give up' isn't the phrase I should be using, as not eating biscuits between 11am - 7pm yesterday doesn't really qualify as a diet, does it?

Anyway, this years solution will be to go shopping after work tonight and buying a pair of the next size up trousers. That way I can eat what the hell I like, and my clothes will still be a bit loose, therefore creating the illusion of thinness.

Pure genius, that's what I am.

Card Humbug!

2005-12-15T18:20:00.000Z

Why, oh why, oh why, oh why card manufacturers of Great Britain?

In the name of all things festive, why?

Why do you insist on making your christmas cards for family members so goddamn nauseating? All I want, if it's not too much to ask, is a card that says "Merry Christmas Dad" or "Happy New Year Sister". And what do you give me? "I'm glad that your my special daddy" or "To my special sister" or "I've already had my christmas wish come true, I've got you as my (insert blood relative of choice here)". And don't get me started on "To my mum and her fella", "You're like a dad to me", "To my special sister and her fiancee" (who is presumably just plan ordinary). What the hell is that all about? Do you have any idea how hard it is, as a child of non-divorced parents to buy christmas cards?

Just stop it. Oh, and while you're at it, people do still have birthdays in December you know, so maybe next year, leave a few birthday cards around. Cus they can tell when you've scratched 'Christmas' off and scribbled in 'Birthday' over the top. Trust me.

You know you should get out more, when...

2005-11-26T09:21:00.000Z

...you get very excited at being given an Executive Room by mistake at a librarians conference.

Return of the killer librarian

2005-11-26T09:11:00.000Z

I know, I know. I'm just not blogging as much as I used to. I've decided that this is because I no longer work in the thick of it in central London. And by "in the thick of it" I mean "amongst the freaks". Seriously. You work in central London and everyday your commute involves at least three incidents that no normal person would put up with/hang around long enought to watch. But because you work in central London, you are in your London Frame Of Mind, and so anything goes.

I mention this becuase on Tuesday I was off to a conference in Oxford (woo-hoo!) and so had to go in to London to get a train. There I was, still in my Suburby Frame Of Mind, taking everything in, looking in shop windows, walking at a normal pace, having a little daydream, and do you know what? I almost got killed! Shoved out of the way by sharpened elbows, scowled at by all and run over by peoples STUPID wheely cases. One woman who ran her case into my leg and then over my foot, turned round to me and said "Don't put your foot there!". What? Here where I've been standing for the last 15 minutes with the rest of Paddington Station managing to avoid my quite frankly tiny feet? I'm sorry how inconsiderate of me, you OLD BAG.

I decided that I had better switch up a gear, and by the time I got on my train 20 minutes later I had shoved, tutted, walked everywhere purposefully and at speed and kiCked a few wheely suitcases out of the way. Mwa ha haaa!

Ah, it's good to be back!

Dear Mrs Ritchie,

2005-11-07T19:05:00.000Z

or can I call you Madonna? I love your new single, it's the best thing that you've done in a long while, it rocks. I suspect this is largely down to the excellent 'Gimme Gimme Gimme' sample, however I'll let this pass, 'cus it makes me want to dance like a crazy lady. And 10/10 for the Saturday Night Fever meets Agadoo arm movement at the the end of the vid. Inspired.

I have a comment to make about this song however. Would it have hurt you to have gotten a leotard that wasn't so high cut in the leg area for the video? Really, you are the same age as Mr L.'s mother. Put it away dear.

Yours, learning to dance in new killer heels,

Lady Librarian.

P.S. Really, put it away.

Shoe porn

2005-11-07T18:26:00.000Z

Well if you can't buy yourself these to celebrate a) coming home with holiday spending money left and b) your friends 30th upcoming birthday, when can you?

I'm wearing them right now. With my pink p'jamas. Foxy or what?

What I did on my holidays...

2005-11-07T17:34:00.000Z

Day One: Woo-hoo! Look at me all not scared of flying! Hypnotherapy rocks! The weather? Sunny and warm.The accomodation? Why, it's the skanky Hospedaria Verde Esperança. On several websites it says that this Guest House was renovated in November 2004. Hmm, usually when you "renovate" you do things like, oh I don't know...put locks on the doors, fill in cracks in the wall, remove newspapers with a date of July 2004 from the wardrobe, make sure the kitchen you provide has a working fridge, and hey! call me crazy, but a cooker as well. What they mean is, this place had new windows in November 2004.
Day Two: Ah, a relaxing start to the day with a lie-in before climbing literally hundreds of hills whilst out and about in Lisbon. I now have the not very attractive calf muscles of a mountain goat.
Day Three: Zoo! You gotta love the Zoo. A day that includes wobbly cable cars and a kiss each from a sealion. What more do you need from a holiday?
Day Four: Turns out the bites we have aren't from mosquitos, but bed bugs. Mr L wakes in the middle of the night to find the blighters fat and full of his blood. Gross. When we ask to change rooms we are roundly ignored by the "Hotel" owner, who even turns down the chambermaids request to change the bloody sheets (I'm not swearing, I mean the red stuff).
Day Five: Ooh, itchy itchy ITCHY. Also, rainy rainy RAINY. We go to the biggest aquarium in The Universe (or Europe, one of the two). We see lots of fish, cute sea otters and get shoved out of the way several times by an incredibly rude French family. (Rude, or stupid. One of the two. Probably both.)
Day Six: I.T.C.H.Y. That's itchy will a capital everything. Today we say a fond "F*ck You" to the Skanky Hospedaria Verde Esperança and head to the coast and a new hotel. Mmm, 4 star hotels, gotta love 'em. Cascais, lovely town, shame about the rain.
Day Seven: Buffet breakfast, rain, 4 star hotel.
Day Eight: Ditto. I don't think God knows we're on holiday. Or he hates us big time.
Day Nine: Train to Porto. In England to get on a long distance train with a ticket costing less than £1,000,000 you have to buy it 67 weeks in advance on the internet and travel in the middle of the night, standing on one leg, wearing stripey socks with a companion called Fred. In Portugal you ask for tickets an hour before the train leaves, and it costs 17.00 Euros. I have no idea how much 17 Euros really is, but it just sounds cheap, doesn't it?
Day Ten: Portuguese bank holiday. Everything shut. Even stuff that says it will be open. It's still raining by the way.
Day Eleven: Across the river to the Port warehouses. Free port at every turn and super steep hills. And yet we returned home with nothing broken. A miracle. It's still raining.
Day Twelve: Continuing this years series of Comedy Related Injuries (TM) I slip in the shower. I do what any normal person would do and grab hold of the shower curtain to steady myself. The shower curtain rail is in no way fixed to the wall, it is just ledged against the tiles. Really. Two seconds later I land flat bang on my bum with the shower curtain and rail over my head for good measure. Ouch. Although it did make me laugh and cry at the same time, which is always impressive.
Day Thirteen: On the way to the airport, the sun comes back out. Oh, ha ha HA.

Devil woman

2005-10-22T09:33:00.000+01:00

I'd like to take a moment or two to thank the woman that drove her car through a huge puddle/small lake on my way to the hypnotherapy dude yesterday, soaking me from the waist down and covering me in enough muddy water that my fabulous (as announced by lovely waiter in wagamamas) coat now needs dry cleaning. You evil, evil BITCH. This is a tamer version of what I actually shouted at her.

Two things about this really annoyed me. One - the three cars in front of her had actually slowed down and swerved out of the way of the puddle, and I saw her deliberately swerve into it, and two, she was a woman, now from a man I could almost kinda understand it, but from a woman? I hope your children turn out fat and ugly and that you never find another pair of comfortable shoes as long as you live, you rotten old hag.

Holiday (preparation) from hell

2005-10-22T09:16:00.000+01:00

What was my favourite part of my 'relaxing' day off yesterday? Was it discovering that even though I thought I'd finished my freelance work, I actually had another two hours worth left to do? Realising that you need to buy your Euros a bit sooner than the day before you travel? Being soaked on my way to hypnotherapy and having to lie in soggy trousers whilst trying to conjure up positive thoughts about flying?

No, it was the bit when I ordered my holiday money, only to find out that if you order over £500 on a debit card with this company, you will automatically be classed as a 'fraud alert'. Now, this is great, it's actually nice and reassuring to know that if some scoundrel had made off with my purse, they wouldn't be able to jet off to Fiji with a suitcase full of dollars before it was too late to catch them. My gripe is - why the hell didn't this company put a disclaimer on their website?When I spoke to the call centre, they said very matter of factly that "it happens all the time". So why no warning? This would have saved me the nuisance of having my card turned down in shops later that day, and a visit to the bank, and a call to the fraud hotline to sort it all out. And we still have no holiday money!

The wrong trousers

2005-10-10T14:28:00.000+01:00

Every Saturday to distract myself from the fact that I am at work, I buy myself lunch from Eat. Mmmm, they do the yummiest everything, ever. Every week I walk in there and look the three cheese and caramalised onion sandwich in the eye and say "Oh no my little calorific friend, I'm going for one of your healthier relatives" and I usually have something involving roasted veg and it is (as are all their sandwiches) divine.

Last Saturday my alarm didn't go off, so I woke up thirty minutes before I needed to leave the house. This is the second time that this has happened in recent weeks, and quite frankly if the clock wasn't from Queenstown NZ, I'd be taking it back all in a huff. Anyway, come lunchtime I was staaaaaaaaarving, which as those who know me know, is not an unusual occurrence. I am always hungry. But Saturday I was hungry AND grumpy, on account of me not actually being awake yet. So I looked at that cheese sandwich, and I thought "oh yes, your time has come". So I brought it, and I ate it. Then I ate some crisps. Then I ate a mango & greek yogurt thing. Then I had to phone home to get Mr Librarian to bring me some, ahem, more comfortable trousers when he came to meet me from work. You see, we were going to a birthday party and I didn't really want to have to go with my trousers open, just to be able to breathe.

There's an old family story about my mum, who after returning home from a particularly delicious and large meal out, undid her trousers to make things a bit less painful in the midrif area. It wasn't until she undid the trousers that she realised it wasn't her clothes that were tight, it was her skin. Saturday was one of those 'skin too tight' moments for me.

And the moral of this story? Don't be such a pig Lady Librarian. Lesson learnt. I'm back to the healthy boys this week. Or maybe I should just carry a spare pair of bigger trousers at all times?....

Note to self #2

2005-09-29T18:36:00.000+01:00

Stop going out drinking the night before you are teaching. People want information, just not from someone who smells like a wino.

Note to self #1

2005-09-29T18:34:00.000+01:00

When roads have "hill" in the name, it's there for a reason.

They're playing our song

2005-09-16T23:03:00.000+01:00

Oh, Bookish Barbara, Andrew W.K. 'Party Hard' is on tv. I'm sorry to tell you, but this reminds me of you! Remember when we saw them at Reading? Oh, such happy memories.

I actually have no idea what I'm watching, but it seems to be some kind of cruel joke chart, in which Good Charlotte 'lifestyles of the rich and the famous' is higher up a 'rock' chart than R.A.T.M. 'killing in the name of'. I think it may well be tv from the world of Just Plain Wrong.

R.A.T.M.? Why, Bookish Barbara, remember when we went to see Audioslave record 'cochise' for kids tv? And we were so excited that we got a bit drunk before we went, and then we worried that we wouldn't be let in? And remember how we made everyone we know watch the tv programme over and over until they agreed they could see us? Ah, happy days. No freakin' way! Super spookily, Audioslave have just come on tv! It's the cochise video! Ooh, I need a lie down, too much rock for someone who has to go to work in the morning.

Living for the weekend?

2005-09-16T22:57:00.000+01:00

No, I'm living for Monday when I get to see Hard-fi for free. Why free I hear you ask? Why, because I'm on the GUEST LIST!!!!! (Yes, that does justify capital letters, bold type and plenty of !)

This is the second time in my life I've been on a bands guest list, (this is the first) and it makes me so disproportionately happy! I did a little jig when I found out. It makes me feel special, and yes, I am going to be stopping strangers in the street and telling them, and yes, I am going to be going on and on and on about it for at least the next six months.

Why you shouldn't talk to strangers

2005-09-16T22:43:00.000+01:00

Last week I went to speak to a group of GPs and other community staff about the services that the library I work in can offer, and in particular my amazing training sessions (how modest of me). The talk was as productive as it gets, people hear the word library and switch off, but just as I was about to write the day off, I had a super journey back to work.

I get to the bus stop and there's a bus pulling away. There's one woman waiting "You just missed one" she said "Ah, always the way" I said. I thought maybe that was it, a few pleasantaries with a fellow bus-stopper, but no. In the space of the next two minutes here are some of the things I learnt about this lady;

1. Her mum is in her 80's and has always smoked.
2. The lady herself has never smoked, and hates the smell of cigarettes.
3. She plays darts on a Wednesday.
4. She had lived in this part of London all her life until last year.
5. Her oldest son is disabled and still lives at home.
6. She has one other son, he doesn't live at home.
7. Her mum has her old mobile phone.
8. The lady is always forgetting her mobile phone.
9. Her husband had tickets to the test match the next day.

And with that last remark, she got on a bus and sped away, leaving me to wonder if I'd been out in the sun a bit too long and had imagined it all.

Shoes, glorious shoes

2005-09-03T11:12:00.000+01:00

My feet are shrinking! Now, this would be a cause for concern at the best of times however this is not the first time that this has happened to me. When I was 14 I had (UK) size 5 feet, sometimes even a six. Cut to four years later and I was wearing 4's. Which was weird, but I like it. I like having small feet, call me a shoe snob, but I just think shoes look better on small feet. Ah, who am I kidding? I think shoes look better on my feet.

Yesterday I went shopping to spend the new wages that were burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to get some new work trousers (the pair that I have now are disgraceful, I've worn them so much the pinstripe has worn off!) and a couple of work tops, but most importantly a pair of new dancing shoes for my fake birthday. Shoes to go dancing in, you understand, not magic dancing shoes like Lisa Simpson gets when she discovers that she can't dance.

So I tried on a pair of fabulous heels in Debenhams, the only pair left, and they were a 4! These shoes were perfect, turquiose blue with a peep-toe and a full ankle, a 2 inch heel, and they were reduced from £40 to £9.45 - extra perfect. I tried them on, they fit! Until I started to walk in them, and they kept slipping off my heel. Like when you wear your mum's shoes when you play dress-up. "Dammit" I thought "I bet some sneaky size five has tried to ram their feet into these 4's just to get a bargain, and they've stretched them. Grr." So I left them where I found them, tried not to cry, and carried on with my shopping.

I found a pair of flats that I liked in Clarks. I tried the 4's on. Too big. Hmm. Suspicious. Also, the most uncomfortable shoes I've ever tried on, (and I have tried a lot of shoes on in my 28 years)there's no way that these babies would ever get comfy. (Yes, Clarks, what's that all about? You're making your shoes a bit cheaper, and they look great, but I can't remember the last time any of your shoes were comfortable - sort it out!). Then I try on a pair of gold, ankle strap, strappy sandals from Next. Too big! If it wasn't for the ankle strap they would've been off my feet flying across the shop in seconds.

So, it must be me. Three pairs of shoes, from three very different shops, all too big. And I just can't bring myself to buy a smaller size. Because 4 = cute and ladylike, 3 = small child weirdo feet.

Say it with a card

2005-09-02T09:20:00.000+01:00

After finding these little beauties via Just Jenn I have decided to write to Ken to demand that they become compulsory and free in London. I would buy some for myself, but I would get through about 500 packs a week.

Three little things

2005-09-02T09:04:00.000+01:00

that cheered me up on the way home from work last night:

1. My mp3 player behaving when on random and choosing (amongst others) Veruca Salt 'Seether', Maximo Park 'Graffiti' and Hell is for Heroes 'You drove me to it', excellent choice little music buddy! Glad to hear the days of Random=Manic Street Preachers are over.
2. Seeing two sisters wearing the same outfit - they were in their 60's! Fashion faux-pas, psychic sister powers, or just uncanny co-ordination? We'll never know...
3. The lights turning to red almost straight away at the crossing by the hospital, I usually have to wait about five minutes!

They're off!

2005-09-01T08:44:00.000+01:00

Today is the 1st September, which means it's Day One of Adam and Marty's trip from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City. "So what?" I hear you ask. So, they're doing it by cyclo. Which is just crazy. Infact, it's Crazy with a Big C. They're not doing this for fun, oh no. They're doing it to raise money for KOTO which is the main venture of the Australian charity Street Voices. KOTO trains street kids in the hospitality industry so that they have the skills to get stable jobs, to give them a decent future. Which is just bloody brilliant!

Follow their adventure, and if you can donate some, please do. If you've ever visited Vietnam I'm sure you'll want to help, and if you haven't visited, you really should!

Happy birthday to me?

2005-09-01T08:04:00.000+01:00

Two of my bestest friends have birthdays this weekend. I know, I know, I keep meaning to audition my friends so I have their birthdays spread throughout the year. I currently have availability for new potential friends with birthdays in February, May, June and July.

Apart from having to think of two present ideas so close together (oh, the brain ache!), my main problem with them being born a day apart is that they always have a 'do' and I get so involved in their preparations, I start to think it's my birthday too. I am aging twice as fast as everyone else! I'm three years younger and two years older than these guys!

Queuin' in the rain

2005-08-31T09:31:00.000+01:00

I suppose I should've blogged about the Foos gig before now, but to be honest a week on and I'm still so over excitable that there's a strong chance that the blog, as much as I want to give an objective view of the evenings entertainment, I just know that it will come out as "IlovethefoosIlovethemIlovethemIlovethem" or something very similar. Let's just say that Oh My God They Rocked.

The one thing that marred my super evening was losing my umbrella. And not in the usual getting off the bus and realising you left it behind way. Oh no. Last Wednesday it rained all day in London. And I mean all day. None of that "Oh, quick! It's stopped raining for five minutes I can nip to the shop without fear of drowning" kinda days. Non. Stop. Rain. All. Day.

So as we reach the front of the queue, we noticed a whole load of umbrellas on the pavement outside, including a few big golfing umbrellas (Foo Fighters gigs/playing golf - hey, I know I'm always getting those two mixed up!). We didn't think anything about it, other than "Wow, what a lot of umbrellas". So we get inside and this 'security girl' says I can't take my umbrella in. I ask "Why?" she says "No umbrellas". So, enlightened by her super explaining skills I put my brolly back in my bag before going to queue to pick up my tickets, I'll dispose of my brolly once I have those tickets in my grubby little mits. Anyway, security girl grabs me by the elbow to tell me that I have to give my umbrella to "that girl over there", I said (okay, maybe not in the nicest tone of voice, but she was seriously pissing me off) "I'm going to get my tickets first" and she said something about "that girl over there" again, and to cut a long story short I abandoned my brolly! They weren't even letting people take them to the cloakrooms, you had to leave them behind the box office counter! Yeah, right, I'm going to come after the gig , along with everyone else, and explain what my umbrella looks like! "No, not that pink stripey one, it's more, erm, well..." Can you imagine?

Gigs are getting stupider and stupider. And I'm sure that there's no coincidence that the rules at gigs have got more bizarre and the ticket prices have gotten extortionate ever since a well know brand of 'lager' (and I use the term lightly) started sponsoring most of the venues in London. In the past month I have been told that I can't have a (plastic) bottle of water with a lid on incase I throw it, but they were still serving beer and alcopops in glass bottles to the person next to me. I can't take my umbrella in for no good reason, other than I'm sure it greatly amused someone somewhere. (It wasn't me!)

Con Yo Toke Lark Mey Surry?*

2005-08-23T18:11:00.000+01:00

The BBC are doing a series on dialect at the moment. You can't turn on the tv/radio/internet without hearing some intellectual with a cut-glass accent going on about how "quaint" and "super" regional dialects are.

I'm from Stoke-on-Trent originally, and although I don't have a strong accent, to most people's amusement I'll usually come out with some phrase or word that no-one else has ever heard of on a regular basis. I love different words and sayings and so I thought I'd share a few of my favourites with y'all. (Y'all being one of them). Robbie Williams is from Stoke, so I sound a bit like that. Only in a female voice. And without the singing.

Black over Bill's mothers - this means that there are dark rain clouds on the horizon, headin' your way. And not where Richey Benaud was staying during the 1993 ashes series, which is what my friend thought when he said the phrase. He said "It's looking black over Bill's mothers", she said "Ooh, do you think that's where he's staying, with Bill's mother?" I said - well actually I said nothing, but I did fall off the chair with laughter.

Mard/Mardie - this site says has the definition "spoiled, marred, spoiled child" but it's used for everything, people who are feeling a bit sorry for themselves are "feeling a bit mardie".

Nesh - someone who is a bit soft, but also someone who feels the cold easily (eg me!). In the winter I am totally nesh.

Summat - my mum's favourite! I was always being told off for saying "summat" instead of something.

Duck - a term of affection "Ow at duck?" (How are you dear?) which confuses the hell out of anyone who moves to the area. You can spot a Staffordshire Uni fresher by the look of bewilderment on their face, wondering why the bus driver just called them "duck"?

And the famous "Cos kick a bo agin a wo an' 'ead it til it bosses?". Next time you see Robbie in the street, you just ask him that.

* Can you talk like me, son?

6 days and some hours

2005-08-18T21:16:00.000+01:00

until I see the Foo Fighters, 'cus hell yeah, I got the Foo tickets! It was touch and go for a while and I must have clicked on 'order now' about a million times before I got through, and then I held my breath whilst the transaction was transactioning, and then I shouted "yessssssss!" and did a little jig in my chair. I think my new workmates think I'm a bit mental.

I also have someone to go with after nagging, nagging, nagging Mr Librarian until he agreed to go with me. He has been told that he is not allowed to make any comments about The Grohl, but this morning when their video was on tv he said "I hope he hasn't got that beard next week, it really doesn't suit him" and "Did they have to get a drummer that looks like Kurt?".

Oh well, better he gets it out of his system now I suppose.

The Foos are in town!

2005-08-17T18:31:00.000+01:00

Which is like the circus only 50 bezillion times more exciting. What with the whole Dave Grohlness of it all. They are playing a gig at a tiny venue next Wednesday and the tickets go on sale tomorrow at 9am. I want to go so much, I could probably puke with excitement!!!!!!! See, see how excited I am, look at all the exclamation marks!!!!!!

Anyway, I emailed all my friends today and asked who wanted to go. And who wanted to go? Why, none of them that's who! Maybe it was because I called them my gig bitches, maybe it was because they are scared of me getting arrested for trying to Davenap The Grohl. But I think they all have watertight reasons for not going. My last hope is Mr Librarian. Only I just know he'll spend the whole gig picking on The Grohl. He's just jealous.

Maybe I'll just have to go on my own. But, and let me just say this for the record, I will not be held responsible for my actions if there is no-one there to restrain me.

Neighbours

2005-08-17T18:15:00.000+01:00

No, not this kind, the kind that live by you. And share walls with you. And play their guitar and stereo loud enough to wake you up at 3am. 3AM! In the morning! The middle of the night!

We only moved in five weeks ago, and the loud music has happened a couple of times before, but that was earlier in the night, around midnight, and for only a short while, which is still annoying, but I can let that go. We've had much, much worse than that in the past. Only last night, 3am the music starts, then the guitar, then the singing along. She woke me up, and then she woke Mr Librarian up. So we lay there for a while, quietly seething, holding our breath in between songs in the vain hope that she'd turned it off/down/the stereo had exploded. After 20 minutes, Mr Librarian says "Maybe I should go down and say something". I say "maybe". He says "What would I say?". I say " How about 'Shut the f*** up bitch?' or ' Oi lady, turn your stupid music down' or 'It's 3am, are you KIDDING?'". He says "Hmmm". We decide against going down, 'cus who's going to open their door at 3.25 in the AM? After another 20 minutes, I have super had enough and go down to complain. I stomp very loudly down the stairs, and ring her doorbell. No answer. I can hear her in there, moving around, but no big surprise, like I say, who's going to open their door at (now) 3.45 in the AM?

Anyway, long story short, Mr L resorts to earplugs, and I fall back asleep just after 4.

And do you know what? Our neighbour? A teacher in her 50's. Lady, you should know better.

The best day of my life?

2005-08-16T21:30:00.000+01:00

I have just been for a good old gossip complete with pizza and ice cream sundae, there's an evening of Britpop on bbc4 (Marion are on!), and our broadband has been reconnected!

What more could a girl ask for?

Tonight we're going to party like it's 1995

2005-08-08T12:29:00.000+01:00

or "a story about an Indie Boot Camp outing".

Last Friday lunchtime I get the most exciting email I've had in a very long time. It says "Oh My God this looks amazing!", and it's all about this. How cool? Really. How exciting? Really, really. So a plan of attack forms, and despite going out on the Friday night to this, we decide to take the whole 1995 thing very seriously, and pretend that we are all still under 25 and can still do going out two nights in a row. We spend all Friday evening deciding what to wear, what we still have in our wardrobes and more importantly, what the hell will still fit or will last one final spin in the washing machine.

Saturday sees many text messages conveying minor panic attacks along the lines of "I have no shoes!", and results in Clare being ready at 4pm with the message "I'm ready now? Can we go?" to which I had to reply "No, I have three more episodes of SATC to watch and a bath to have". I do these things in order of importance (SATC first, of course) and by 6.30pm I am in my bedroom looking at my wardrobe, and having this realisation: I am not retro and cool, I am just cheap - half my wardrobe is clothes I had in 1995! I decide on a compromise - Pulp yellow "I'm common" t-shirt, with my jeans. Now in 1995 I didn't even own jeans, they were too 'mainstream' for me, but back to 2005 and the fact that I had spent all day trying to dry my jeans, and it seemed such a shame not to wear them. And it would've meant that my battle scar/burn from touching the zip after they had been baking on the front of the oven was for no reason. (However, between you and me, the main reason that I decided to wear the jeans? I tried on my orange skirt - £5 Topshop, Meadowhall, summer '95 - and do you know what?Apparentlyy I was a slut in '95, 'cus the skirt? Turns out to be teeny tiny. Oh my god! I was the Christina Aguillera of my day. Oh, the shame. )

My hair, to be truthful was more circa '98, but then in '95 I had shorter hair than I do now. And there's no way I was cracking open the bleach and pink hair dye for one night only.

Anyway, we all manage to meet in the pub, where we are all at varying levels of excitement. Okay, me and Clare are so excited we could puke, the boys are probably more bewildered than excited. We decide to get to the club nice and early so's we can get seats/get in cheaper (hey, we're only pretending we're under 25). And what an amazing night! Well, amazing apart from the bit where there was a poster of Liam Gallagher on the back of the door in the ladies loo, and I was too scared to go in. Luckily someone ripped it down, and we could all answer the call of nature in peace again. I danced so much, in such a small space! I was escorted off the dancefloor when Oasis came on by a lovely young man shouting "Indie snobs coming through" which did indeed clear a path back to our seats! I met some lovely new people and had random conversations about taking my mum to see the Manics, how everyone wore CKOne in '95, songs that make you cry and the first time you ever heard Mansun on the radio.

What a night. And do you know what, two days later I'm very nearly almost recovered!

Sit down next to me

2005-07-30T09:34:00.000+01:00

I'm taking the advice of James and I'm sitting down. Well of course I am now, I mean when I go to gigs.

I've being going to gigs ever since I made my dad take me to see these guys for my 12th birthday. That's 16 years of gig going people, and I'd say for about 75% of those 16 years, I haven't been able to see the band. I stupidly and stubbornly insist on standing, 'cus it's "cooler", it's "closer to the band", but do you know what? No more!

After going to "see" The Cat Empire last week it took me three days to fully recover from standing on my tip-toes for the best part of two hours. So, no more will I be paying a fortune to see I band (and sword swallower!) that I don't actually get to see, no more will I be standing behind a 6ft 5 man, no more will I be standing behind snogging couple, and no more will I be getting smacked in the face by people's elbows. So I'm taking it up them stairs to the balcony people, I'm going along with the whole sitting downness at gigs thing. When this first occurred to me I thought it made me sensible, but then I had a panic and thought it might just make me old. And so far four whole people who are older than me have agreed that it is the way forward. Maybe I'll give standing just one more chance...

You have five days to memorise all of this...

2005-07-23T14:33:00.000+01:00

We are still sans broadband at home, no, wait- I just can't bring myself to talk about it right now, it's too painful.

So thank goodness for Saturday jobs where they have computers and the internet and everything. I got to check my email for the first time in a week, which meant I read the email telling me that:

"Oh, by the way, I'm not sure if we mentioned it before, we didn't? Oops, how super careless of us, but you know your new job? Mm-hmm. Well, your first week is the last week that the librarian will be working before she goes on maternity leave. What's that? Sorry we can't hear you. Byeeeeeee."

Or something very similar.

And do you know what I say to that? Oh crap.

I'm outta here!

2005-07-15T12:06:00.000+01:00

Today is my last day in this job. It's also my last broadband day for a while, but I'm not thinking about that, it's too sad. I have brought in chocolatey goodies and also some 'exotic' fruit, 'cus it's so damn H.O.T. here at the moment. So this afternoon, we can sit around downstairs where the air-con doesn't quite reach, eat the fruit and pretend that we are somewhere way more exciting. Like Fiji, or Hawaii, or, well, it's not too hard to get more exotic than South London.

I am really looking forward to my new job, but I'm now also getting a bit nervous. I'm worried that I'll seem like a fraud as I try to desperately remember all my teaching skills and NHS acronyms. And they'll realise that I'm all nice shoes and no brains. Eek!

My leaving 'do' last night was nice, well, apart from the bit where I discovered the meat in my vegetarian moussaka. Double eek. And a yuck. But the rum, red wine, company and conversation was great. Especially the bit when someone younger than me said "This music is a bit modern isn't it" (they were playing Nirvana Unplugged in New York, man, I'd forgotten how much I love that album "cover your hair and your eyes" is such a good piece of advice, thanks Kurt). Anyway, to the "This music is a bit modern isn't it?" I replied, "he's been dead 10 years" to which the younger someone said "Guns'n'Roses man is dead?". Oh dear. I explained to him the difference between Nirvana and G'n'R and then maybe suggested he'd like to enroll in Indie Boot Camp. He didn't do himself any favours by later saying "Grunge. That's the name for the clothes that indie people wear isn't it?". Oh dear, he has so much to learn.

Indie Boot Camp

2005-07-12T12:10:00.000+01:00

Oh, the wonderful ideas you have when you're giddy on Moscow Mules and bbq smoke: Indie Boot Camp (IBC). Simple really, we will help people on their transistion to indie. We have no prejudice and will take ravers, metal heads, goths, or grebos. Simply send them to IBC and watch them pop out the other side all squeaky clean and clad in indie wear with a nice indie haircut (with compulsory floppy fringes for boys) to boot. It will save them all that painful wearing brand new Nirvana t-shirts and experimenting with home tie-dye that currently accompanies the indie-ing out of the closet process.

I will generously take all the credit for coming up with the name, but I have to take my indie hat off to my friend Clare who came up with this inspired timetable.

Indie Boot Camp - you'll leave us being the biggest fan of a group no-one else has ever heard of - or your money back!

The intensive one day course should be about £200 I think. But really we'll need a whole week which should be £1,000.

I see the week long programme looking like this:

Monday am - Introductions and enforced indie haircuts
Monday pm - The history of indie music (from The Smiths to Hard-Fi)

Tuesday am - Anyone Can Play Guitar (an introduction to strumming the guitar - only minor chords taught)
Tuesday pm - True Pop Facts, including extended sessions on the gossip pages of NME and Q

Wednesday am - In praise of the work of John Peel
Wednesday pm - Dance and deportment (or the subtle art of pogoing/dancing in fabulous heels)

Thursday am - Festival etiquette and preparation
Thursday pm - a choice of - Women in Indie or Kula Shaker (a warning from history)

Friday am - Unfashionable fashion Choices I
Friday pm - Unfashionable fashion Choices II

Saturday am - Art School Rock focusing on the work of Bernard Butler and Damon Albarn)
Saturday pm - Who we hate and why (Clare rants about Coldplay ALL afternoon)

Sunday am - Unusually cool Americans (The Killers are OK)
Sunday pm - Hunting for obscure gig tickets

and home.

Any takers?

People power

2005-07-12T11:49:00.000+01:00

Well, there I was checking out the XFM website when I found this, their voting list for The Greatest Indie Band Of All Time, and to my horror I discovered that James Dean Bradfield had been missed off the singers list! So I sent this email:

Dear XFM list makers,

Imagine my horror at checking out your (so called) 'The Greatest Indie Band Of All Time!' only to discover that James Dean Bradfield was not in your greatest singers list! How can you justify having Pete 'barely conscious' Doherty on there and Chris 'whinger' Martin and miss out James 'yes, I did eat all the pies but listen to my beautiful voice' Dean Bradfield off? And the bassist from The Magic Numbers? And please don't get me started on Meg White in the best drummer category. If you look closely at her you can see her sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates really hard on beating that Fisher Price 'My first drum kit'.

I fear that you have gotten over excited at the prospect of an Indie Supergroup and have made that list in haste, and I urge you to reconsider.

Yours, in a right old state,

Lady Librarian

and got this back in reply (straight away!)

The last thing we want is to get our listeners in a state. 'Right old' or otherwise. Consider him added. Just don't try to persaude us to include Shaun in the drummer catagory. ;-)

Xfm

and now he's on there! Yey! People power!

The Steve Guttenberg Project

2005-07-11T12:52:00.000+01:00

Now, even before she thought of this I wanted to be as cool as Alice is when I grow up. And this, well, this is just Pure Genius. If there is one thing that the world needs, it's a living archive of the Gutts work.

Genius.

Celebrity skin

2005-07-11T12:15:00.000+01:00

London is slowly getting back to normal (or at least as normal as it can be right now) and so to do my bit I went to a party way over the other side of town on Saturday night. I was a little nervous on the way there, and more than a little drunk on the way back, but I made it in one piece and I'm so glad I did, it was great to see my friends.

For my friends wedding in April I made a mix cd. Now, 'made' doesn't really do it, or me, proper justice. I slaved over this mix for weeks, deciding on the tracks to put on there, waiting for my 'inner ear' to tell me what song would perfectly complement the one that went before, finding a decent bit of (free) software so that I could mix the songs together. At the wedding my cd didn't get played, but I didn't mind one bit, another (cooler) friend had made a motown cd which totally rocked and meant that I got to dance like my mum and dad did when they were young. Cool.

So, back to Saturday night, and there we were in the garden when Duran Duran 'The Reflex' came on, and I was all excited because a) it's Duran Duran and why wouldn't you be excited? and b) that's the first track on the cd I did which meant I had a legitimate reason to talk about it! Then as Simon Le Bon fades out, guess what fades in (in the perfect place)? It was only 'Mr Brightside' by The Killers - it was my cd! How exciting! But that wasn't the best bit - people loved it. Everyone wanted to know where the cd had come from, which of course led them to me! Double how exciting! For about an hour I squeaked "it's me" whilst pointing at myself with both hands for extra emphasis.

Then all of a sudden it was time to leave! I'd told Mr L. that I'd be in about 9ish, sober me didn't fancy being out too late on my own in London, but drunk/celebrity me totally forgot about the time and all of a sudden it was 10.30! I left in a hurry, like Cinderella. Well, like Cinderella if she had got both her shoes on and stopped to dance to Dexy's Midnight Runners 'Gino' in the kitchen on her way out.

Then drunk on attention and more than a little Moscow Mule I made my way home, smiling to myself and feeling all was right with my world. Until I got to London Bridge station and got confused by a vending machine. Seriously, it's at a station, you'd think they would make them drunk proof.

London

2005-07-08T12:47:00.000+01:00

Do you what I thought when I looked at the clothes in my wardrobe this morning "What will I be able to run in?". A far cry from yesterday morning when all my pretty little head had to worry about was "What will make me look thin?".

I still can't quite believe what has happened. I know that I am incredibly fortunate that all my friends are safe. My heart goes out to all those that are injured or have lost a loved one. I have never been so pleased to see Mr Librarian in my life as I was last night.

I can't even begin to understand the terror those people must have felt. I don't like getting the tube at the best of times, it always makes me feel vunerable. No, I am an overground, catch the bus kinda girl, but it appears even there we're not safe anymore.

I don't want to rain on their parade

2005-07-07T08:54:00.000+01:00

or say "I told you so" but I will anyway.

The day the games are given to London, greedy vendors take their houses off the market, even those that have already agreed sales, so that they can put them back on with a £15,000-£20,000 mark up. Then today this is forecast.

Good job I already have that 2p in my mortgage fund, or I'd never be able to afford to buy a house.

(And yes, you should be reading this in a sarcastic manner)

Why I love Bookish Barbara

2005-07-06T14:23:00.000+01:00

On Saturday both Booky B and I were working, which is bad for her as she doesn't usually have to, but great for me as it meant I had someone to email during those quiet issue desk moments.

Lady Librarian: Hiya, only just got to work, has been a horrible morning, had to fight the bleedin' tourists to get to work! How are you doing?
Booky B: I only got the tube from Liverpool St to Holborn and it was rammed with toothy girls in hobo gear going to Live 8. Damn them!
Lady Librarian: Hobo? Do you mean boho?

:)

See below

2005-07-06T14:08:00.000+01:00

Crap.

Are you there God? It's me, Lady Librarian

2005-07-06T10:53:00.000+01:00

Dear God,

Hi. Yes, I know I only get in touch when I want something, but this time it's really important, and also not just for me. Not like the time when I prayed that the fabulous Antoni & Allison coat would get reduced in the January sales (thanks for that by the way). Also it's not like the time when I was 10 and it was raining so hard and I asked you to send my mum to pick me up from school in the car (and thanks for that too, I'd be even shorter than I already am if I had subjected my growing body to that amount of rain).

This time, I am asking, praying, begging you to intervene in this whole 'Olympics' hoo-haa. Please, give it to Paris, Madrid, the moon, anywhere, just not London. Seriously. I do not want to be paying extra tax for this for the next seven years. I do not want every news bulletin for the next seven years to be talking about the 'o' word. I do not want Hackney Marshes to be built on. I do not want another repeat of the dome. Do you hear me? And most importantly I do not want to be fighting my way through even more clueless tourists everytime I want to go anywhere (come on people, I brought a map when I visited you, could you please return the favour?)

Come on god, don't let us down at 12.46pm BST,

Yours in hope,

Lady Librarian

P.S. If you can't do something about the Olympics, could you at least do something about how frumpy I look today? What's going on there? I was aiming for sassy Librarian chic and somehow ended up with aging, plump maiden aunt trying to look fashionable. Help!

Would somebody just shoot me?

2005-07-01T13:39:00.000+01:00

I'm at work. It is so quiet that I began to wonder if I was the only human left alive. But then a man walked past the window, so apparently not. To make the dragging time seem less like every second is lasting a decade, I am reading 'Information & IT Literacy: Enabling Learning in the 21st Century'.

So, like I said, somebody just shoot me.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's obvious but...

2005-06-30T16:52:00.000+01:00

Ahhhhhhhhhhh! I can't take it anymore, I have to blog about Tom Cruise again! I have been fighting the temptation all week, although to be honest this is going to be a lazy blog of links, I don't think I have the energy to type about how much that little man annoys me.

So, I'll just say this and then I'll leave you to some links. Was I the only person in the world who hasn't been calling him Dr. Tom Cruise?

What did Katie do?
Someone who thinks about this more than me!
I think this is serious, good job Dr T. knows all about the history of psychiatry, 'cus they need his help, fast!
Well, I wish they'd come and take him back, god knows we've all had enough of him.

Let me know of any good links people, I can't get enough. I think I caught this obsession from Bookish Barbara

The Killers

2005-06-25T09:04:00.000+01:00

ROCK! After watching them on the Glastonbury highlights last night, I love them even more. God bless any man who can keep his make up on whilst sweating that much. And God bless them all for being the only people in a ten mile radius of Worthy Farm without so much as a fleck of mud on them.

Carried away by the whole festival thing, my sister, my friend and I decided that we were going to go to Glastonbury next year. Then we remembered there is no Glasto next year. Then we decided to go the year after instead, so the fund for Glasto 2007 starts here. I'm transferring the 2p from the mortgage fund over. Who was I kidding with that anyway? So, my friend wants us to go in a camper van (although a cruise liner might be more appropriate...) which I agree with. I'll be the big 3-0 that year, and if I'm going to do a festival, I'm going to do it in style. I want a cocktail fridge and my own chemical loo. Just like Nicky Wire :)

Right, so that's two years to save up for the ticket and the hire of a camper van. Oh, and for one of us to learn how to drive....

The Joys of Moving House (Part One)

2005-06-22T10:22:00.000+01:00

Money, money, money. Welcome to part one of a no-doubt many parted series of The Joys of Moving House.

Our broadband providers are going to charge us £25 to move our connection to a new number, and we have to have a new number as we are moving to a new telephone exchange area. If we were staying in the same exchange area then we could keep the same phone number, but we'd have to pay for that to be transferred.

That's it, I am never moving again! The mortgage fund starts now with that mysterious 2p that always seems to be in my desk tidy.

It's like someone read my mind....

2005-06-20T13:58:00.000+01:00

http://www.freekatie.net/

Check out the t-shirts.

Run, Katie! Run!