Bro's Getting Married

My one and only brother, my Bro, is getting married this Saturday which is the coolest thing in the world! It's going to be a massive, brilliant event. And, as I have been demanding from him since the age of 10, I am Best Man for my Bro. Couldn’t be more proud! But unfortunately with the very proud position of Best Man comes the Best Man’s speech. WIth only two days to go I'm having a slight panic.

Everyone seems to have an opinion on what the Best Man's speech should be like. I'm feeling some pressure. It can really set the tone for the rest of the night. A funny, clever, topical BM’s speech can really get the party started. And you probably all know of weddings where it all goes tits-up after a bad or unfunny BM’s speech. I can not let that happen at my Bro’s wedding.

At the best of times I am a sentimental fool. At my Bro’s wedding my sentimental-factor hits 10+. How could it not??? All the elements are there. He's marrying his true partner and mother of his children, the gorgeous Kel. All our family will be there (remember, my family is like the mafia, we are also from Griffith!) and all our families closest friends. Plus of course my sister-in-law's family who are fabulous! Its gonna be a fantastc day and night. I’ll be speaking on behalf of Mumsy and I, with a big nod to Dadsy; I cry like a baby at the best of times so this is gonna be tough.

I'm reading all the tips...

Suits, cufflinks, ties and shoes – all organised. Mostly thanks to the soon-to-be-Mrs Murphy cause she is a MACHINE in the organisation stakes. If there is any organisation left up to Bro and I we will always come up short. Not in our genetic make-up me thinks, we’d be bankrupt if we were an events organising company. We were just lucky enough to pull off the Buck’s Night, anything more is too big for us. So for the big day I don’t have much to think about or prepare for - except the speech.

No one told me such a book existed

It’s really important to me for so many reasons that I get this right. It needs to be that weird mix of funny, sincere, official and BRIEF. I struggle with brief. The first time I was a Best Man, for my bestie Snuddo, I think it clocked in at 40mins. The wedding video is excruciating and still requires some heavy editing. The second time, when I was Matron of Honour for darling Cassandra Louise, it was at a fabulously informal gathering so it rolled off the tongue in a matter of minutes. Bro’s wedding is new ground and so not the time to be testing new material.

...and stealing lines!

There is one small thing I must be thankful for, and I will go to hell for saying it out loud. Until recently exBoyfriend was to be the MC but with the recent ‘change of circumstance’ a replacement has had to be found. Thank God! He so would have shown me up for being the second-rate public speaker that I am, he is a natural at it. Phew! Maybe I should be getting him to write the speech… (said with a hint of hope that there will be an offer made).

Best be off and get cracking on the speech! Cousin Trude, hope you are available for a test-run-through????

Next post: Like Priscilla Queen of the Dessert I will be en-route to Cobar for the much-anticipated wedding! Till then…

Me in Cobar!

It's a sad day.

It’s a sad day. Very sad. I don’t really have the energy to sugarcoat it today or try for some cheap gags. Its just plain and simple a sad day.

Today I move out of our little house and for the first time in 6 years I am on my own. I move in to my new bachelor pad today and begin a new chapter. There’s some great and exciting stuff about this but for today I am feeling like a sentimental old fool saying goodbye to some really good times and a relationship that was the longest and strongest of my life.

How can you not get all emotional at a time like this? I think irrelevant of the circumstances its always hard when something comes to an end. Especially something that has had such an impact on you and literally changed your life like my relationship with exBoyfriend has. But all good things come to an end for a reason. It’s the right time for us to go our separate ways. I think its human nature though, certainly it is for me, to reminisce at a time like this. And that’s what makes me sad.

We had it so good for so long. Such great memories. Great friends and families, exciting holidays, brilliants homes, so much fun. So thankful that we’ve had not one ugly moment that detracts from those memories. And the boys, Jackson and Sam. Damn I’m gonna miss all of that. And exBoyfriend is a great man. I have nothing but total respect for him. We taught each other so much and learnt so much together. There is going to be a gaping, huge hole in my life without him in it day-to-day. I will miss him unbelievably.

But talk about life going full-circle! I first moved to Sydney in 1996 not knowing anyone. I rented a shoebox studio on Crown St in Darlinghurst and began my life here. Lived on my own for two years while finding my feet in the big-smoke and then have shared a house ever since. 15 years later I am back on Crown St living on my own; thank god the apartment is nicer and bigger this time.

A big part of me is so excited about this new adventure. It’s going to be very cool. But for today I can’t help but be sad. Sad because of what is coming to an end.

Thank you so much Ash, I will be forever grateful for the last 6 years. 

**Sorry, no comments today, this one was for my own therapy, not to get a reaction. x

My Treasure Chest

Ok, so I am completely distracted by the packing up of my little house and moving this week. I’ve got heaps of those plastic bins on wheels full of 'stuff' I have collected over the years. Here is a list of some of the more interesting things I’ve found…

All my Channel Ten VHS’s of Law & Order SVU – some of them from first series even.

My Australian flag that I wore as a cape for the two weeks of the Sydney Olympics.

A Coles green bag full of phone and camera battery chargers.

Hamish Von Trapp’s playlists on CD from 2003.

A fake Diesel cap in army green that is now mouldy grey.

My eye-mask from the Air Tahiti Nui flight to NYC in 2008.

A copy of the LA Times from the day I landed in Los Angeles in 2006.

A crystal vase given to me by my first ever Sydney boyfriend, Portia, for Christmas in 1996.

The Morrissey 100% synthetic sleeveless T I wore under a suit to the 2001 Peoples Choice Awards.

Love letters from a high school girlfriend (who shall remain nameless) that are disturbing in their heterosexuality.

Speaking of heterosexuality, the complete works of Oscar Wilde that was a gift from my last ever girlfriend, 1995.

My two medals from the Mardi Gras swimming carnival in ’98.

A toilet brush in my wardrobe.

The beautiful silver lighter that my favourite early-childhood teacher gave me for my birthday many, many years ago.

My gorgeous Asian print wrap-around mini-skirt that I wore to some Mardi Gras late last century.

The photo album from my first year at Uni back when you got prints of your shots and captioned them (and you know who you are if you are in it – be mortified!).

The teeth that I lost during the ‘dark year’. In a sterile container.

A pin board, as inspired by Oprah, with cutouts from magazines of all the things I wanted.

A fedora hat I bought circa 1987 to wear at swimming carnivals – back when I had a 6-pack. (Let go of the dream St. Murphy!)

The plastic cups we drank cocktails out of at the US Tennis Open.

Five pairs of those free hotel slippers from three different resorts.

God damn I am a hoarder of EPIC proportions!

What does my wardrobe say about me?

Moving house is a shit-fight!

It’s not just that you have to spend so much time packing everything up, it’s having to deal with all the crap you've stored that is the worst part.

It’s disturbing, hilarious and embarrassing all at the same time. And that’s just the wardrobe! Yesterday I packed up all my clothes for the big move on Wednesday and I had never realised this before but your wardrobe is like a museum of your life. I could plot events back to at least ’95 just by sorting through my clothes (’89 if you include what’s in the washing basket).

Starting point

You may find this odd but I kinda treat clothes like souvenirs. If it has any sentimental value I keep it. If it gives me a really strong memory I keep it. If I know that I looked really good in it I keep it. I’ve got a giant big suitcase full of clothes that I don’t wear but I just can’t bring myself to let go of. I’m a hoarder! Just ask my mum, she has a whole shed at home packed full of all the shit I can’t let go of.

So yesterday I took a sentimental journey as well as find a few things that I didn’t even know I had. The first bag I filled was socks and jocks. My favourite drawer is always my sock drawer cause another weird thing about me is I only buy socks when I'm travelling so they each have a name. Today I am wearing London, tomorrow it might be Thailand, Toronto or Adelaide. Even when they’re holey I struggle to let go, how can you bin something that has a name?

CSU & Neighbours jackets

I actually laughed out loud at the memories from this one. It’s my Charles Sturt University tracksuit from 1995 when I somehow got roped into competing for CSU at the National University Games in Gymnastics. Now let me be clear, I have never in my life done gymnastics. We trained for about 2 hours a week for approx 5 weeks and then went to Nationals. It was one of the funniest trips of my entire life. We stayed in a caravan park, got shitfaced on tequila the night before and one of my teammates couldn’t even get his gut up and over the high-bar. Love that tracksuit!

Next to it is one of 4 items in my wardrobe with a Neighbours logo on it. This one is a jacket celebrating 20 years! Well Neighbours just had its 25^th so ballpark it's 5-6 years old. See, anything that has ‘historical’ significance must be kept. I love Neighbours and have had a lot to do with it over the years so I’m sure I’ll be passing this one on to my niece of nephew as I am shuffled off to the retirement home – just as Neighbours celebrates its 65^th.

Never worn!

I’m almost 100% sure I’ve ever even worn this little treasure. It’s a Donna Karan sleeveless puffer jacket. Why the hell is it in my wardrobe? I scored it from a photographer friend who was having a throw out and I thought it was the coolest thing. I mean who doesn’t want to own a free DKNY puffer in 2002? Why I’ve kept it all these years I have no idea but I still haven’t tossed it out. One day they will be cool again…

I’ve got a whole section of my wardrobe dedicated to “when I lose weight…”. I’ve got atleast 3 Marcs slim-fit shirts in a Small that I have a snowballs chance in hell of ever fitting into again. But a girls got have a dream, yeah? When I get my stomach stapled they will look great on me. Speaking of things I don’t fit into... I’ve still got a RL polo that my ex-exBoyfriend, the Sculptor, gave me. Must have been in 2002. For some reason I can’t throw it away cause it was a gift from Sculptor, jeez I’m a sentimental old bastard. But the absolute worst is I’ve kept the t’shirt that I was wearing the seedy night I met exBoyfriend. Its TINY! I met ex during the ‘dark year’ so I was fabulously thin – now I’d be lucky for it to fit my thigh.

Used to be soft and fluffy

This one I did manage to let go of… it’s my Garnier robe from the very first Australian Idol. I loved that show and I particularly loved that series. Scored it for doing some work for the sponsor and its one of the few mementos I have from that special time. But it is now literally crusty from being shoved down the back of my wardrobe for years so its time for it to go. Someone shopping at St Vinnies could love it I’m sure.

I’ve also got quite a few things of dad’s that I keep. A pair of his pyjama’s, his lawn bowls jacket and his bowling shoes. Love them, of course I’m not getting rid of them. Disturbingly I found to Ed Hardy pieces – a cap and a T. I know I’m a bogan but I didn’t think I was that bad. Had to put some thought into it and the T came from the Idol wardrobe department in ‘03 and the cap I bought in LA in ’06 before EH hit Oz so I felt a little better about myself. Both went to Vinnies.

So wardrobe is done now, all nicely packed. As big as a pain in the arse as it was to pack, I did love love love some of the memories. Had never realised that my clothes tell a story. I like that. I don’t feel so bad about being such a hoarder now.

From this...

...to this...

...to this!

Call-Centre Revenge!

I have a little story for you today that comes from my dear friend Hamish Von Trapp. Hamish is a founding member of my Inner Circle. He is, and who we all affectionately call, our ‘eccentric’ friend. He’s smarter than 99.99% of the population and once set fire to himself with a cigarette when he fell asleep watching porn on our lounge.

Now this story will ring so true with a great many of you. The reason it hit a nerve with me is that over the past week I have had a succession of bad experiences with off-shore call centres. The worst of them resulted in me hanging up mid sentence on some poor woman inadequately trying to do her job. Hamish’s call-centre revenge is on an illegal scam so lets all get some pleasure from it. Over to Hamish Von Trapp…

For the about 10th time I've just had a phone call from someone at Microsoft/Windows in India telling me that dangerous viruses have been downloaded to my computer, but they can fix it. Normally I just hang-up, but today I was in the mood to waste as much of their time as possible. I basically played the role of a computer illiterate ‘older’ man... First up let me tell you I have a Mac, so whatever he is going to tell me is not going to be relevant, so I have to play dumb.

"Let me go to the other room and turn the computer on. I'm a bit slow on my feet so give me a minute or two... now how do I turn it on again?" (I waste 5 minutes as it is very slow computer).

"Sir, now if you go to your computer, and.."

"Yes, I'm in front of my computer"…

"No Sir, if you click on my computer…"

"I'm not going to hit my computer"….

"No Sir, if you look on the screen there should be an icon which says, my computer"…

"No there isn't".

"What do you have on your desktop?"

"I have the computer, a calculator, a couple of pens, cup of coffee…"

"No, No Mr Bowden…what is on your screen?"

"A picture of my six cats and me"

"OK, Sir, I will go through this slowly. If you press start"….

"Oh, the computer just turned off! You did say to press the start button didn't you? I'm not very good with computers" (I think that comment got him excited, waste another few minutes whilst pretending to wait for the computer to restart)

"No, if you go to the bottom left corner of the screen and click on start.”

"There's nothing there."

This went on and on for 20 minutes - before he asked me what type of computer I had. I told him I had a Mac, and he promptly hung up.

That reminds me, I need to invest in a whistle, when I'm not in the mood.

Brilliant, just brilliant! And I can 100% confirm that Hamish Von Trapp now owns a whistle. He keeps it by the phone. I sincerely pity the next tele-marketer that tries to sell him anything.

Their ears will be ringing for weeks!

The Congregation of the Gayers!

The Westboro Baptist Church makes my skin crawl and vomit rise in my throat!

They are vile, vile people who hate everyone and anyone. In particular the gayers.

They were in the news again yesterday because they announced they will be protesting at Elizabeth Taylor’s funeral. They are picketing it because Dame Elizabeth had gay friends and raised money for AIDS research. See, the Westboro Baptist Church wishes death upon all gayers and that AIDS is Gods answer to homosexuals; such a smart, open, accepting, moderate religion.

Charming.

But they seem to get huge volumes of media attention, mostly because they picket at so many events, all of them controversial. Their favourite is to disrupt a funeral! Thos could be the funerals of soldiers, gays or anyone else they think can generate some attention for themselves. Like I said they are literally the devil incarnate.

I got all fired up over them again yesterday so decided to do some research! THEY ARE A CHURCH THAT HAS 71 MEMBERS!!!!!!! And most of them are from the one family!!!!  Most governing bodies in the US do not consider them a church but rather a ‘hate group’. A group of 71 deranged fanatical lunatics that aren’t considered an actual church generate all this media attention – it astounds me.

If the WBC can do it with 71members, so can I! I can beat that. I am starting my very own religion…

The Congregation of the Gayers!

Much celebrated Congregation icon.

At The Congregation of the Gayers there is no singing of hymns, we only do hims.

There will be no crucifix in The Congregation of the Gayers, we would much rather get nailed up the Cross.

Jesus walked on water. The Gayers have more class than that, we can walk on Vodka.

We have huge religious celebrations called Dance Parties where we celebrate diversity while wearing strange costumes and headgear (but with loads more colour than priests).

One of our Annual religious festivals

Our services will not be held at an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning, that’s not when we are at our best. Rather at 6pm on a Thursday just at the start of our weekend.

Don’t even ask what it means to drop to your knees in The Congregation of the Gayers.

The traditional role of the Tabernacle Choir will be performed by the Nab-your-tackle Choir.

Our 12 Disciples are Tom Ford, Madonna, Cher, Kylie, BMW, AussieBums, DNA, Fitness First, Louis Vuitton, Tamarama, Arq and Grey Goose.

A prominent and much-loved disciple

We do not send the young to Sunday School, we send them to a clearance sale at Industrie.

But of course, conception would be an IMMACULATE COLLECTION! (and you had better have got that Madonna reference or we can no longer be friends)

But most importantly…

The Congregation of the Gayers believes that love is love, doesn’t matter between who. Diversity makes the world go round. All couples are recognised and celebrated in our congregation.

Take that you Westboro Baptist Church bitches! My new religion shits all over yours!

And I bet I can find more the 71 members.


**Special thanks to @JoThornely for her divine inspiration and knowledge of dirty-talk used in this piece.

Single gay man looking... MONEY STUFF

There things that I know about myself…

-       I get addicted to things very easily

-       I am inherently lazy

-       I love boys

-       I like to feel pretty

-       I am bad with money

Today, lets focus on the I am bad with money!

When I say bad with money I mean embarrassingly bad for a man of my education and age. Like a tween with their first mobile I have no concept of limitations. My entire adult life has been spent filling in the gaps between financial disasters. First there was the post-Uni spending blitz where I first lost my financial dignity. There was the borrowing bond/rent off work-mate incident only late last century. And then the near-fatal credit card frenzy only a matter of years ago. I’m here to tell you that the person who suggested to me ‘apply to all banks online and see how many you can get’ is no longer my friend. Took many years to clear that debt but jeez I had a great year. Those of you who know me, that’s the year I refer to as the ‘dark year’.

I’m not bad in the sense that I’ve invested in Nigerian oil schemes or played risky on the stockmarket. I’m bad in a much more childish way in that I simply want to spend more than I have. I have a very short attention span and like shiney, new things. I also love to have a good time – or GT’s as we like to call them - which is where most of my (relatively) hard-earned cash has gone over the years. I guess it’s the prioritizing that I struggle with. Seeing a bank balance go up ever so slowly is no where near as exciting as a night on Oxford St. I also spend the GDP of New Zealand on healthcare; I love a quick remedy and a supplement. But more about that another time…

So money stuff has never been my strong point. Over the last few years though I have been much, much better. That’s because of the influence of exBoyfriend who is BRILLIANT at the prioritising. He’s a clever-money man. He even managed to inspire me to have some assets! I’ve got a house and a car now! Who would have ever have thought? Not any one who met me in the ‘dark year’ that’s for sure. I love having the assets, makes me feel all grown-up, I can see what this saving thing can do for you now. Stroke of genius really.

Cash is top of mind today because it has come the time for me to move into my new place, finally cutting the financial-umbilical with exBoyfriend. Of course I have nothing in the tank for a curveball like this so it’s become this intense juggling act of what I can afford, when and what the priorities should be. There are some things that are a must like fridge, lounge and bed – all practical necessities. Then there are the highly desirable things such as a decorative armchair, ornate glassware and funky lamps. There is A LOT of stuff on the wish list! It is a new home and new life after-all.

So all my new skills, acquired through exBoyfriend, are being put to the test now I’m an independent spirit. My new mantra is “Do you need it? Can you afford it?”. This is in sharp contrast to my previous mantra which was “Does it make you feel good? How does it look on you?”. It really is a whole new way of looking at your wishlist. The plush linen and giant towels are going to have to wait until after I have some pots and pans.

So far I think I’m doing real good, I’m quietly very proud of myself. No crazy purchases or impulse internet buys. No superfluous new trinkets. There’s a very strategic financial plan in place that means no big boozey nights or Nudi jeans but rather sensibly priced homewares and electricity bond. I am starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I am finally a grown-up after-all. Perfect timing really. 

The Belle of the Ball

There is a legend in my hometown of Griffith of Hermit’s Cave. It’s a place up on the hill that a man turned into a home during WW2. He literally turned a cave into his castle and he lived up there for years. A lot of the structures he built are still there today, and a bit of a tourist attraction.  Also a spot for teenage drinking and ghost tours but that’s a whole other story.

Hermit's Cave - Griffith

Everyone in Griffith knows Hermit’s Cave. Not sure why he did it, always thought he must have been a bit crazy. But after the last few weeks I’m starting to think maybe I’ve got a bit of hermit in me. His cave sounds dreamy!

Hermit

Being a hermit has worked quite well for me for the last month or so but now its time for this caveman to re-emerge! I’ve been stuck in my own head for weeks now, and truth be known, I’ve started to go a little crazy. There's far to many other people in my head, it gets crowded.

Beautiful

Outside of work I’ve pretty much lived like the old man on the hill (except for all my modern luxuries of course!). My people skills have gone out the window. All of my social contact has come through this little computer screen. If it wasn’t for Twitter, Facebook and this blog my social contact has been terrifyingly limited.

I realised today that this is not exactly healthy. I miss friends, bars and witty face-to-face banter. I miss getting dressed up in a disco outfit and doing my hair. I miss meeting new people and mocking Liberal politicians with like-minded people. Its time to pretend I’m a debutante and make my entrance into society.

I want a chariot!

I’m not good with change and so much change all at once made me long to be like Griffith’s hermit. But now I’ve got my head around that, and everything is falling into place, I’m putting my party-frock back on.

I want to be the Belle of the Ball rather than the man in Hermit's Cave!

Purple

Purple is my absolute new favourite colour.

That is all.

I love it.

To prove it here are some pics of what I wore home.

My new watch 

My cute little shoes

My fav T

Too much? Me thinks so too.

Could even be considered embarrassing.

But I do love purple.

They say it’s a sign of sexual frustration…

Inspired, pumped and Smudgerella - last postcard from London.

I have just had the most phenomenal work conference!

You know I don’t talk about work here at St. Murphy, but just need to share this.

I work with some incredibly cool, inspiring people – I love them! It’s all the people from around the world who have the same job as me. Yes, there are other people just like me!! Granted they dress better and are far more eloquent, but in essence we all do the same thing. Its so re-assuring and brilliant fun to compare stories and battle-wounds. I’m feeling incredibly lucky to be a part of such an organization and this group. Ahhhhh… It’s a Kumbaya moment.

We had a team dinner last night which was so much fun, absolutely hysterical. A room full of Communications people with alcohol is always going to be loud. But this was stadium-like. Our place tags were these fantastic caricatures of each of us. Mine is brilliant! It will now feature everywhere. Coolest thing ever.

It feels like this has been the longest week in the world – straddling two completely opposite time zones and not doing either one of them justice. All week I’ve been so confused about what day it is and what time it is. My laptop says one thing, watch another and my phone jumps between the two. I just know I’ve missed shit on both sides of the globe. Got a lot of making up to do next week. Mmmmm…. That’s something to look forward to. Good news is I’m coming home completely inspired and pumped! Everyone is going to find me very annoying.

I’m a couple of days late but I caught up with one of my oldest friends the other night, one of my nearest and dearest, Smudgerella! She is gorgeous and the best life-coach EVER! It was beautiful to see her and share a cocktail. Smudge and I were original housemates at ‘432’ over a decade ago. She is world famous for one morning asking everyone “Do you ever wake up and just feel like a vodka?” She was deadly serious. Now she is a very respectable mum of beautiful Zachy. We shared a number of gorgeous martini’s. Good times. Love you Smudge, thank you honey. 

Sorry that this post is a little poor on content. I am so tired and exhausted and completely mentally drained. Travelling home now. I really love London, I'm going to miss it.

Love ya, xoxoxo

St. Murphy

A London quickie today...

A very quick one today… conference, conference, dinner, conference. I'm a busy gal on the go, I'm the Aussie version of a gay Carrie Bradshaw in London.

The first thing I have to share is the most PHENOMENAL Will & Kate wedding souvenir that you could possible imagine. The beautiful StylingYou bought it to my attention. Will and Kate acrylic nails. I am so getting some before I come home. Can you imagine turning up for a meeting with me and I’ve got these on? Or paying for my groceries at check-out? Hysterical.

I’ve now mastered dressing for the sub-arctic temperatures over here. Its substance over style. So the first two layers are about presentation cause that’s what you have on once in the office. The third layer is about warmth so I’ve got some ratty old cardigans for that. Fourth layer is the jacket. Got to have layers 3 and 4 to go outside or you risk hyperthermia. Never been so cold in my life and its allegedly spring. No wonder I hate snow.

The new Marks and Spencer undies are truly beautiful. Going back today to get some more. Except this time I may buy bigger than a Small. What the hell was I thinking??? I haven’t been a Small since I was 12 (and that’s not bragging, that’s because of my waist). So they are a little on the tight side. Talk about an overshare on the undies story….

I often joke about how anal I am about real dumb things. One of those things is unpacking in a hotel room. I completely unpack as soon as I walk in even if its just one night. Just to prove it, check out how I keep bathroom shelf and wardrobe in a hotel room I’m only in for a few nights…

Lucky I’m only here for 2 more days cause now that I have the latest issue of Time Out I coulda got myself into some real trouble… I LOVE THIS PLACE!!! LOVE IT!!!!

London ramblings, it gets even weirder! + Undie Crisis of 2011

More ramblings from London, don’t say I didn’t warn you…

And typing at a frantic speed cause I’m very busy and important in London.

Let me kick start with the Good News I have on solving two of my biggest problems since I’ve been here – coffee and undies.

Lets start with the Undies Crisis of 2011 and the complete lack of common sense among British Men. I desperately need more undies but it is boxers and trunks only in the UK. Mountains of them. But nothing, absolutely nothing, in a brief. Check out this rack at UniQlo and all trunks… How is the modern man to feel sexy in a grey flannel trunk???

BORING!!!!

Tried all the cool-kids stores today and so disappointing. You can get a brief but only with a cartoon character on your doodle. And as a man of a certain age this is incredibly inappropriate and sure to be laughed at in the Fitness First changerooms.

In a last ditch attempt before I have to recycle I went to Marks & Spencer. Not only did they have a wide selection of (distinctly un-designer) briefs but they were also ON SALE! K-ching, K-ching –put that one in the savings register. Two pair of undies for 9pound and 3 pairs of socks for 3pound. Couldn’t be happier. Bar-jain! I’d model them for you but decency prevails.

My purchases.

If you read yesterdays post you will know that I firmly believe the coffee situation in London is dire. I still haven’t made it to everyone’s hot tip of Flat White in Soho, hopefully before I head home. But I did discover a passable drop at this little hole in the wall near Head Office. And served by some delightful Turkish ladies, an all-round very pleasant start to the day. Its still no Oven in St Leonards but it will suffice for the next 3 days.

Now for some schizo ramblings…

At the noodle bar where I bought lunch they had Deep Fried Carrot Cake on the menu. Even for me, who as a general rule eats anything fried, I couldn’t bring myself to try it. Surely cake is not meant to be crispy around the edges or moist with oil.

They still have Pizza Hut restaurants here that are dine-in with all-you-can-eat salad bars! God I loved the early 90’s. Back when I never had to think about my weight and could eat till I vomited at a Pizza Hut restaurant.

Thank god for Diet Coke. No explanation required.

Last night I strangely found myself watching both Neighbours and Home & Away. Now of course I am a very regular viewer of Australia’s most successful drama ever, Neighbours, but never in my life do I think I’ve watched both on the same night. Do you think after just 4 days I’m homesick?

Last night, in a moment of terrible weakness, I Tweeted my absolute new favourite and soon-to-be boyfriend Matt Johnson from Channel 5 that I love and adore him. He hasn’t replied. Go figure. Mustn't like Aussies.

Love you Matty-watty!

Finally, the search continues for Will and Kate but with no luck at all. They are proving very elusive. No closer to getting my hands on my wedding invitation that the Palace forgot to send.

I went to some ridiculously cool and fabulous hotel bar for a drink with some gorgeous TV Types thinking W&K would surely be there too. I don’t think they were, problem was it was so dimly lit I could hardly read the cocktail menu let alone see who was at the next table. By contrast the foyer was all flouro lighting and full of child-like wannabe models. I fled after only two apple martini’s.

Tired of pushing through the heaving crowds (this is not really Spring people!) on the way home I took refuge in a gay karaoke bar. Oh dear. Place proved not all gay men have style. Never again. Insanely bad singing and no W&K.

They are never in Boots and I check at least twice a day. That store is amazing for the width and breadth of their products. I love a quick remedy for anything and will pop a pill at a moments notice so the flaky UK medical standards are perfect fit for me. No grilling by the parmacist here when you want a stack of codeine. Will and Kate obvisouly don’t feel the same way.

Ground Floor of Boots Heaven

So that’s it, over and out for another day in London-town. Ten-4 Big Daddy, Keep on Truckin’. St. Murphy needs to have a drink for St Patrick’s Day.

Speaking of St Patricks Day… Happy Birthday Dad! Love you, miss you. Of course I’ll have a drink for you too.