When I was a kid, you used to be able to get boxes from the supernarket for free. Now, every bit of space in supermarkets is filled with stuff to buy so the practice seems to have died out, which makes moving house far harder.
Luckily, www.boxes-for-moving.co.uk come to the rescue, selling, well, boxes for moving. And bubble wrap, which is cool, cos I love popping the bubbles on it (although I know you're not supposed to but come on, who doesn't like bursting bubble-wrap?)
Anyway, though the URL could come in handy for moving to Dublin so figured I may as well blog it here.
Although I'm still considering having a 'bring a box' party like I did when I left university; people bring a box and in exchange get to take away any CDs/books/clothes/random household stuff I'm getting rid of (but they have to leave me the box). I like having clear-outs when I move. It's good for the soul.
The World Book Day
poll is now open. They're looking for people to vote on which book says most about the UK and its inhabitants today. I went with Things can only get better by John O’Farrell for England, although the list of choices wasn't quite what I'd have expected.
For example, Wendy Holden was in there and Jilly Cooper wasn't. Now, Wendy Holden's a good enough writer but surely, in that genre, Jilly Cooper is more quintessentially English?
And Nineteen Eighty-four was in there. I love the book, even though it gave me nightmares the first time I read it, but surely anyone who picked it as representative of England has a bit of a bleak outlook?
vodkabird.org has got a brilliant post 'Dial M for Misogyny' which highlights why the whole Women in IT initiative is so important (thanks to Jo for sending me the link.)
Yep, after an utterly fruitless wireless hunt in Dublin I'm now back in London. Oh joy. The one plus side is that I have internet access again.
The moral of story for all wireless hunters: get wireless card for PDA and trawl with that rather than a laptop. Getting a laptop out on the top deck of a bus gets you some funny looks. And lugging round a laptop is a pain in the arse. (Or so my other half says. I'm a great believer in the old "I wear short skirts and spend time learning advanced oral techniques. He carries stuff." ideology. It's not sexism. He's stronger than I am. If he was a puny bloke, I'd carry the heavy things. And anyway, he seems happy enough.)
Am gutted because my week in Dublin reinforced the though that I had the first time I went there. Namely, I want to live in Dublin. Actually, I'm not gutted, I love it. I've been in London for nearly eight years. That's long enough to spend anywhere. Samuel Johnson can feck off with his 'If you're tired of London, you're tired of life' thing. And Dublin is ace. Why? Here are a few things I loved (in no particular order).
- Almost every road in the centre of town has a crossing. I'm crap on roads. Crossings are good (I'm crap on roads cos I've been hit by a car and a motorbike and know how much it hurts. Thus, I tend to dither for a billion years - approx - before crossing a road)
- Better than that, the crossings have got added features to your standard boring London green men. In addition to lighty-uppy red or green men, there are also amber men (the cue to run like hell. Or at least, they would be if they were in London. There seem to be less homicidal maniac drivers in Dublin). Then there's the countdown. You press the button to cross the road (and it's way bigger than the UK buttons are. Size matters when it comes to pushing buttons. My inner 3 year old was utterly satisfied by pressing a really big button) Lots of the crossings then give you a displayed count-down - "12 seconds, 11 seconds, 10 seconds" etc until you can cross the road. This is useful. But that's not the best bit. By far the ultimate bit is the noise they make. When you're allowed to cross the road, there's a sound a bit like a high pitched fart, followed by the sound that Space Invaders make so that you can hear the lights change as well as see them. OK, it's there for good and sensible reasons of helping blind people (I guess) but the amusement value is ace.
- Baileys' Coffee. OK, it rains in Dublin. A lot. But I've never been that bothered by rain. And going into a pub after you've been walking in the rain to drink alcoholic coffee is a pleasure not to be missed. It rains in London too. There should be alcoholic coffee as standard here (best Baileys' Coffee was probably at The Clarence - the place which should sell T-shirts saying 'I failed to see U2 hanging out at the Clarence' for all the disappointed tourists who only went there for that reason. Is actually very good there. The drink is no more expensive than anywhere else in Temple Bar and it's nice to be somewhere trendy where there's no arsey attitude.)
- Whelans. It's a fantastic indie nightclub. The people are lovely (and as gorgeous as everyone else in Dublin is. Namely, very.) The music rocks. There's a pub opposite that I can't remember the name of that plays ace cheese music to get you in the mood for clubbing beforehand. And we met some lovely people there ('Well if you're planning to move to Dublin, you'll be wanting some friends here so take my number.' You don't get that in London. And they were a top bunch of people - hello Cliona and her mate whose birthday it was whose name I forget. Kate? Anyway, hope you weren't too ill after the tequila.)
- Clothes. I'm not usually into clothes but I managed to get a great pair of classic black trousers - really well made and classy - for £20 and an ace PVC jacket for £18. Plus, having a pale skin, green eyes, dark hair combo that is kind of traditionally Irish (that'll be my Cork grandmother's influence, I guess) there are *way* more clothes in colours that suit me in Ireland.
There's loads more I could mention (and no doubt will but I'm tired after travelling all day). Basically, I'm in love. Want to move there. Now. Don't care about the rain. Dublin rocks.
That said, today was insane. It was a day of buses taking far too long, phones sulking and then, after running to catch the damn thing, the plane getting delayed (I don't *do* running). The first two conspired against me to mean that I couldn't do the video blog I was planning (sorry Bernie and Tim - but I'll be back, promise, and will do one then if you'll still have me)
Today was 'media day'. Interview with me came out in the Irish Examiner - complete with very large photo that was a bit disturbing to be confronted with first thing in the morning.
Then on to Newstalk to do an interview with the totally charming Daire O'Brien. Talked about porn (well, Cliterati) blogging and women's magazines. Was fun, although mornings are still evil.
After that, spent the day war-walking in hope of getting internet access anywhere other than an internet cafe. No joy (even next to the Guinness Brewery which had been recommended by several people as a good location for access). Will be going off with the info people have given me in the comments below to see if I have any luck.
However, getting my priorities straight, tonight is for drinking and dancing. Mostly the former, I'm guessing. And the weekend is most going to be spent in the countryside and seaside around Dublin before I get back to the grey mass of London which lacks both. Internet access can wait.
I'm actually quite pleased that I've managed to survive four days on only 2 hours internet access. And there I was thinking that I was addicted. OK, I wrote a blog entry yesterday evening but stupidly didn't bring a floppy disc with me so I can't put it up, so it'll appear all out of order. Can't say the same about workaholism though. As well as the interview stuff, have been on the phone sorting out a business deal and have written about 3,000 words of my novel. But that's fun. And I was sitting in a Dublin bar as I wrote, so it's not all work...
So I'm doing the holiday thing, typing furiously to take advantage of the eight minutes I have remaining in the internet cafe. Should be making a video blog later this week, which has got to be good for a giggle.
Am most narked at lack of wireless stuff going on here. If you look at the map of nodes (which I'd link to but it would mean wasting a couple of precious minutes) then Dublin is littered with open access points. Try taking a laptop round with you and getting internet access and it soon becomes clear that the map is lying.
On the plus side, this means that rather than spending all day online, I'm actually out in daylight, shopping, eating and drinking. OK, mostly drinking. But hell, I'm on holiday. Have seen more daylight in the last 48 hours than I have in the previous month.
On another note, am very proud of myself. I don't like flying normally but two days ago, I actually managed to look out of the window at the clouds when I was in the plane. I wasn't scared. It was like the Neverending Story, flying on a Luck Dragon.
Or maybe I'm just a big kid.
Had some friends round for lunch today and decided to make Creme Brulee. It's the last time I'll ever make it. The blowtorch (for doing the brulee bit) exploded in my face. Was very scary. Luckily, I escaped unscathed but have your face engulfed by flame is not an experience I'd recommend.
Then again, in my first year at university, I strongly considered joining the Street Artists' Society cos I though it would be cool to be able to breathe fire. I liked the idea of going home at christmas, waiting for my mum to bring out the christmas pudding and saying 'I'll light that'.
Then I found out you had to fill your mouth with lighter fluid (or something similar) and spit it out then light it. Apparently there are two problems with the stuff you put in your mouth:
a) It tastes foul
b) Occasionally, people have been known to accidentally swallow/burp once they've lit it, resulting in big burns to their lungs/throat and extreme pain
After that, it seemed less appealing.
Have realised things are getting a tad ridiculous. I've just got back into writing my non-rude novel. Have written about 5,000 words this week, taking it up to 16,265 words.
From a quick look at the trashy novels I own, it needs to be about 100,000 words - so, about 1/7 of it written. The thing that's annoying is that just as I write a section, I remember something else that I want to put in it. That, and the fact I've been working on it for 7 years and keep getting distracted so never finish it.
I'm taking my laptop to Dublin 'cos I'm determined to finish the bloody thing (and I'm quite enjoying writing it at the moment). Plus, there's something kind of romantic about the idea of sitting there writing in a cafe (OK, pub) in Dublin.
I've also heard that all writing derived income is tax-free in Ireland, so if I write most of it there, surely I could get some kind of tax break...? (Yes, of course I know this is deeply stupid and it wouldn't work like that. But I am seriously considering moving to Dublin because it's gorgeous there, the drink is cheap, the people are beautiful and there's sea and countryside pretty near town. That and the rent is way cheaper than it is in London.)
Anyway, on top of that, I've got 10,227 words of my deeply filthy book written and 1,337 of my (attempt at being) intelligent book written (luckily, I'm writing the latter with someone else so that should halve my work even if his writing does put mine to shame.) And then there's another book - this time about sex - that I'm looking at co-authoring with a fab established writer (was so chuffed when she asked if I'd like to write a book with her - she's had 24 books published already).
That's ignoring Cliterati and the freelance stuff I'm doing. Think I'm spending about 12-14 hours a day writing at the moment.
Am beginning to think that I can call myself a writer.
Read the whole of huh? It's inspired. As is their other site Massive Corporation. I don't know who they are but I soooo want to meet them.
The shortlist for the Erotic Awards came out today. Cliterati isn't on it. The web shortlist is the Erotica Readers and Writers Association, Lavalush and Sally's Site.
Not happy - really thought we were in with a good chance. After all, we are one of the only sex sites out there targeting women and going from nothing to getting half a million pages in a year (and only spending £300) is a pretty big achievement. Was really hoping we'd get through - would have made all the nights staying up till 4am over the last year worth it. And it's one of the only awards that we can enter the site for; most website awards don't allow adult sites to enter.
On the plus side, we still get loads of letters through from people saying that we've improved their sex life which I guess is more important. And the traffic is growing every month.
Still sad though. I wanted that award. But congratulations to everyone who did get through.
I've just finished a photoshoot with Bella magazine. Rather than the studio kind of thing, it was round at the flat. I was expecting it to be like the last photoshoot I did here - bloke turns up with camera, takes a pic, goes. But oh no. This was the real thing.
The front room was converted into a studio. There were about 4 different lights - red ones, blue ones, white ones, all with those umbrella things on top that threatened to burst through my computer monitor, the stereo and generally everything in the room (it's not that big a room).
He threw a bright pink cover over the sofa. He brought pillows. He brought sex toys. He got some lovely pics if the polaroids are anything to go by. Although it was a tad embarrassing having to grin like a loon while holding a sex toy inches away from my face.
I deliberately kept them in their packets and well away from my mouth...
Another gratuitous link steal from Greenfairy. Won't somebody hire her as a columnist? She rocks.
Other people's dreams are boring so I won't go into detail but last night I dreamt of Napoleon. This is weird. I haven't read about him recently. I know very little about him. OK, so my mum (an antique dealer and dress designer) once had a pair of Josephine's slippers but this was many many many years ago. So what the hell is he doing turning up in my dreams?
That aside, I've been having a fun time. I had my first fitting for this dress last night and ended up blathering until the early hours with the designer. It was ace fun.
Am looking forward to owning a tailored dress. It'll be my first. Although I have fears that it means I may be turning into a grown up. I hope not.
I feel very proud of myself. I went to see my mum at the weekend. She didn't have internet access. Rather than going out to an internet cafe, I happily sat there chatting away and having a generally fun time with her.
I then got back to London and went straight to my friend's Canadian Thanksgiving do. It was ace - she's a brilliant cook and her friends are all creative types (I think everyone there ran their own business) so there was great food and even better company.
When I got home, rather than turning my computer on , I went straight to bed (it was about 1am and I figured I needed an early night). I actually survived almost a full weekend without internet access.
Now this may seem perfectly normal, but I'd started to worry about my internet addiction. When I found myself looking at the skirting boards trying to spot network ports when I was watching the 'virtual tour' of the hotel I'm staying in in Dublin, I knew things were getting bad. When I got into a conversation with my man about taking a network hub on holiday so we can both connect at the same time, I knew things were beyond a joke. (NB: If there's anyone reading this from Dublin, please let me know if it's worth getting a wireless card - node maps gratefully accepted)
I've managed it. I've actually booked a holiday. Settled for a week in Dublin after discovering that Ryanair had got flights for £20 return; too good to turn down really. So, in just over a week,I'll be relaxing in a bar with a peat fire (there's a gorgeous one in Howth complete with a shaggy dog) and drinking excessive amounts of beer.
The hotel I'm staying at has a gym. I like the idea of there being a gym there but will be very surprised if I live up to my best intentions of actually using any of the equipment.
This weekend's looking pretty good too. I'm off to Birmingham to see my mum today and going to a friend's for Canadian Thanksgiving tomorrow. Apparently, it's pretty similar to America Thanksgiving - just a month earlier.
The thing I love about the whole multicultural society thing is that you get to celebrate so much more. I've always loved Christmas. This year I'm getting three times as much festivity by celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving, US Thanksgiving and Christmas. Have a feeling I may be bored of turkey by December.
I've been writing a fair bit this week. One of the more interesting pieces to do was an interview with two US sex workers.
I figured that most people get to see one side of the industry and assume everyone involved in it is either on drugs or oppressed. While there are no doubt women out there who are exploited, Gracie and Diana break the stereotype.
It was really interesting to get their perspective on the industry. While they made sure to stress that it's not a job anyone should get into lightly, they also see it as a legitimate career choice.
As Gracie put it:
"Sure there are 'connotations' to being an escort. And not everyone appreciates your work. But then, how many folks admire what you do for a living? How many times a day are you thanked for the work you do and the service you provide?"
After fielding numerous requests from documentary makers looking for bi-curious women, and subsequently finding out that most of my girlie mates have at least snogged another woman, I figured it was time that there was something out there to meet the demand. And so Bibibaby was born; a (currently) free dating site for bi-curious women.
Will it work? I have no idea. It only went live today. We're working out whether there are any glitches in the system (think we've nailed them all but they have a habit of surfacing where you least expect them) We won't be promoting it properly until there are a few ads in there, so if you're a bicurious woman, or know anyone who is, bung an ad in there. Please.
Google Fight: type in opposite keywords to see which one 'wins' - 'women' beats 'men', apparently.
I went to the Skin Two Expo yesterday. I've never been to a fetish event before (other than a strange fetish party when I was a student when someone was hassling for about an hour me to try nipple clamps. I declined)
But Skin Two Expo was fantastic. I fell in love with most of the clothing there (and a fair few toys) and could easily have spent thousands of pounds.
Eros UK had got some great vinyl dildos. I'd never seen one before but they certainly have more give in them and generally felt good in the hand. The guy who runs the company gave me a toy to review for Cliterati so I can find out if it feels as good elsewhere.
I then bumped into the old Ents manager from my student union. I hadn't seen him for about five years. He's now helping run The Ultimate Leather company - the people who make the gorgeous coat pictured here. Their stuff is more than just fetish. Items like this dress would be just as appropriate to wear to a 'straight' club as to a fetish club. It's now my number one choice of outfit if cliterati gets shortlisted for the Erotic Awards.
By far my favourite - if most painful - part of the day was visiting the Delicious Corsets stand. I've always liked the dea of being Scarlet O' Hara so I figured I'd give one a go. The designer corsets start at about £100 which is just about in the 'affordable as a special treat' range. Unfortunately, they didn't have a 24 inch waist one. The next nearest was 20 inches.
"I'll give it a go anyway." I said.
"Are you sure?" asked the woman on the stand.
"I'll breathe in."
She looked skeptical.
Much strapping and pulling later (yes, I even had a knee in my back at one point.) it was on. My friends were looking on approvingly. I looked in the mirror. Even though she'd been putting me through much pain (and I'm not into that kind of thing) I love the woman who put me into the corset.
I had a 20 inch waist. I would never have thought it was possible. My waist was cinched, my breasts were lifted - I had the classic hourglass figure and then some.
I felt like a gorgeous babe. I felt like breathing was something that I was sure I could get used to doing without if it made me look like this. I can now understand why women in Victorian times fainted so much.
Every woman should have a moment in a corset. It's pure glamour. However, don't think I could spend an evening in one. I don't believe in the 'suffering to be beautiful' thing. And I swear I could feel my internal organs sliding back into position after the corset was removed.
I'm still not sure if they're back in the right place.
Rude Vegetables (Link courtesy of the fantastic Greenfairy)
Last night I was chatting to a mate about childhood pets. I have no idea why - it was just one of those things. Realised that I may have been somewhat inaccurate when explaining my pet tortoises'* escape into freedom when I explained 'It ran away'.
My mate wouldn't stop laughing at me for ten minutes. Swine.
On another note, was having a bit of a clear out and am disturbed to find that I can track my entire career history in promotional T-shirts. Howevr, the coolest jobs also had the best T-shirts (in hindsight) so, here's a quick test to find out whether your company is going to hit the skids or not (assuming it has promo T-shirts). Look at the t-shirt. If it's something you'd feel happy to wear out on the street, you're probably safe in your job. If the ink starts to fade after one wash, run away. The company will be going down the pan in the near future.
*it was before it was illegal
As a freelancer, I can organise my own time. Want to lie in? I can. Want to go out till late on a worknight? I can. But the more freedom you have, the more constrained you are.
Whereas I used to have weekends to relax, now, I find myself working through them on a regular basis. Scheduling time to have fun with mates means eating into my working day (particularly as my body clock is so warped that it thinks it's lunchtime at 8pm) Taking a holiday is a way harder choice when it's my own meetings I'd need to reschedule - I can't just send someone else from my office to sell in a feature. Even if I had an office with other people in it to send.
However, I'm determined to book a holiday. OK, I've been determined to book a holiday since January but now I'm really determined. Enough to even start looking at some prices (well, I will when I finish typing this).
Not sure where I want to go. At the moment, vague ideas include a health spa (relaxing but very expensive) Dublin (gorgeous and quite cheap but rainy) New York (glam, people to see there but too urban to be relaxing) San Francisco (looks fun but evil anti-smoking policies) and anywhere with white beaches, blue seas, sunny weather but no truly toxic insects or anglicised cafes littering the place with leaflets offering 'Genuine English food'.
Chances are, I'll spend an hour looking at loads of sites, decide it's all too expensive and that I can't afford the time off work. Then go out and blow loads of money on expensive beauty products at the weekend to make myself feel better.
I still haven't read it, mostly out of principle because I live in Willesden. And everyone who knows that says 'Oh, so have you read White Teeth yet?" And I say no.
But I have started dipping into the TV series, mainly because the TV ads said 'Living in Willesden can seriously damage your health'. Obviously, I'm now considering moving because I'm just that easily led by TV.
So far, from what I've seen, there's no Willesden on the TV show. But then again, a mate told me that it was all filmed in Manchester anyway. Which is most unfair.
It's not as if Willesden gets many shots at fame.
I'm a girl. Of course I do. So two links that particularly appealed today were Viking Kittens and Catslikefelix where you can download a virtual kitten and cat and make them chase frogs, mice, beachballs and generally waste time when you should be doing useful things with your life instead.