The Language of Economic Collapse

There's not much fun to be gleaned from the current dire straits the globe is facing. But, for sport, I have lightened my mood by looking at how language has shifted ever closer to the precipice... 

• Credit crunch: sounds like a yummy breakfast cereal, must be quite harmless
  
• Banking sector turmoil: that's fine, those fat cats can afford to shed a few pounds
  
• Financial crisis: crisis for who? This affects the city slickers but not me
  
• Economic crisis: say what? The problem is starting to affect us all? Yeah right!
  
• Recession: what a palaver, it's natural for an economy to go through peaks and troughs
  
• Global economic meltdown: Holy Macaroni, this sounds serious! 

Top 10 annoyingly overused words & phrases

I confess that, as I scan the pages of magazines and newspapers, I critique everything I read. Either "This sucks, I could do way better" or "Oh my god, this writer is brilliant, nay God-like, and I am an illiterate fool by comparison".  In the "This sucks" camp, I have the biggest beef with writers that churn out hackneyed phrase upon irritating cliche. So, I decided to put together a list of the worst offenders:

1. Check! Commonly found on the pages of fashion rags, as writers fawn over the way a particular celebrity has been dressed by their stylist. As in, "Gasp. Just look how Agyness Deyn rocks this look. Comedy sunglasses. Check. Ludicrous ensemble. Check."
2. Channeling. Another fashion page faux-pas. As in "This winter, we'll be channeling Ali McGraw's look from Love Story."
3. Fashionista/Fash Factor. Eurgh. Nothing more to add here.
4. ...On acid.  As in "This film is like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang...on acid!". No, no, and thrice no!
5. That. A form of emphasis that smugly refers to a previous headline-hitting moment. As in "That dress" used ad nauseam to describe the dress Liz Hurley wore to steal the show from her then boyfriend Hugh Grant on the red carpet.  
6. Black + any day of the week that heaps unprecedented horrors upon the economy.  As in "Black Monday".  At the moment each 24-hours brings new calamity.  We should stop trying to label the milestone days that define the economic crisis. 
7. Credit Crunch. Enough already. The phrase was coined to describe a very specific problem in the banking sector -- now it is used widely to describe the global economic breakdown. And press releases are loving this phrase as a "topical hook".
8. The new... As in "Carla Bruni is the new Princess Diana" or "Purple is the new black".
9. Sooo. So is a two-letter word, so don't mess. 
10. ? As in "The end for Brangelina?" -- i.e. the arse-covering punctuation mark at the end of the attention-grabbing headline of a featherweight celeb feature based on flimsy speculation.

Banxiety: a very modern malady

Tonight I shall turn off the goggle box, for fear of a modern pox blighting me to the core. No visible outward signs, but a rigorous tension within characterises this illness. Banxiety, recession depression, news blues... call it what you will.  The cause is an excessive ingestion of unpalatable data about bad debt, crippled banking systems, economic collapse and other hitherto unimaginable horrors that are now afflicting our country. The symptoms are sweaty palms, butterflies in the stomach region and an irresistable urge to see greedy bankers brought to justice. 

What every political conference needs...

Bring back spin!  At least it protected us from the reality of slimy infighting and governmental meltdown. Slithery Miliband couldn't hide his intentions at the Labour conference this week with any amount of gloss and Gordon's smile looked Photo-shopped. We can see through all the jaw-aching grins to the desperation of an unpopular government clinging to power... I could almost perceive Gordon's nose growing with every claim that the country's future was in confident, expert hands. That got me thinking -- just for fun, what the conference season needs is a Pinnochiometer: a tool that can measure politicians' half-truths and lies as they trip off their tongues.  

Q. When is a saving not a saving?

A.  When it's a supermarket saving...  This report in The Independent supports the view that the price-cut culture at supermarkets is just gloss. After all, how can supermarkets' savings be genuine when food inflation is rocketing? They cut some prices to grab headlines and engage in price wars with other supermarkets. But, overall prices are going up not down. And, as this story confirms, you'd be better off buying vegetables at a local market, or getting an organic box delivered, than buying at the supermarket. Oh, and buying the right quantities of food, rather than getting sucked in by two-for-one deals and chucking half of it in the bin, will help save pennies. 

Supermarket snub

I have been simmering about supermarkets for quite some time.  My husband's former home town, a market town in Norfolk, had its heart ripped out by Tesco. The third supermarket to claim a patch there, it swallowed up an expanse of land on the edge of the town and dragged custom away from the high street by offering impossibly low prices. Now the high street has become a hollow no man's land in the midst of a supermarket battleground, with little more than charity shops and banks to attract shoppers.  The problem is that people do want low prices and good value, so the lure of super saving deals is hard to argue against.  But, at what cost is the exodus from the high street to the supermarkets? And could the government and local councils do more to protect the interests of independent traders? I am lucky to have a great butcher in my street and I do my best to shop there and at other independent shops. But with a baby to feed and clothe, and prices of everyday groceries rocketing, it's sometimes hard to make good choices. Having succumbed to a daily supermarket shop, I'm starting today with a new goal to gradually cut out the big four (Tesco, Asda, Sainsbury's and Morrisons) out of my life and find alternative outlets that won't break the bank... or batter my conscience. 

Leave that Monkee's Moobs alone!

Poor old Davy Jones committed the heinous crime of exposing his moobs (man-boobs) at a concert recently and caused an uproar. The papers reported that the once youthful heart-throb wasn't a patch on the Cheeky Monkee of the swinging sixties. The guy is 62, so I say give him a break.  I take my hat off to anyone in the limelight that dares to buck the ridiculous trend for Peter Pan celebs who never, never grow old. Frozen faces, bloated lips and crease-free pensioners... it's just so freakish. And, as for the surprise that this teen idol of forty years ago has piled on a few extra pounds with the advancing years, it would be laughable to expect otherwise. One commentator surmised:  "He has let his physique go somewhat through lack of exercise.  He may also have made a few poor food choices." Well, I don't know about anyone else, but when I get to Jones' vintage, I hope that I am enjoying life and relaxing the rules a bit... I'd rather have the odd cream cake and put my feet up now and again, than spend my life on a treadmill, running away from Old Father Time.

Where best to stash your cash?

As Lehman Brothers bites the dust, the question on everyone's lips is who will be the next Big Cheese of the banking world to succumb to the shame of bankruptcy? Lehman was the fourth largest US investment bank with a long and cherished heritage as a canny player in the money markets. But its demise makes it seem as capable of managing money as a shopaholic at Bluewater, trembling while handing over one loaded credit card after another. As the US Federal Reserve broadens its emergency lending scheme and the UK and European central banks inject almost $40 billion into the financial system, it's time to ask whether enough has been done to regulate the financial industry and protect it against several risks too many. Back on the streets, news that Goliath has fallen makes every David feel proud that they're surviving. Small businesses that are weathering the storm should be congratulating themselves for employing the simple tactics that the money men have failed to observe -- making necessary cut-backs and saving for a rainy day/monsoon season.  For my part, I wonder whether we'd be better stashing our cash under the mattress than trusting greedy banks.

Super saving ideas

With all this talk of credit crunch and the skyrocketing price of groceries, I've been on a mission to look after those pennies with the hope of saving a few quid each month.  Once you get started, saving money is addictive.  I get a smug rush every time I issue a coup de grace to the supermarkets' coffers by canny purchasing.  Ha ha!  I know they want me to get sucked in by 2 for 1 offers, but I'm not falling for that.  I don't want a fridge full of rotting veg I can't eat before the use-by date, I want a genuine price slash on a single purchase that I really need.  My money saving exploits go beyond the supermarkets, onto the high street and Internet... I stalk my prey for weeks, finding the best deals that don't mean compromising on quality.  Here are some of my favourite cost-cutting techniques:

1. Only buy B.O.G.O.Fs when the products are non-perishable. Tins and toiletries are a no-brainer.
2. Stalk favourite luxury items regularly to make sure that any discounts are fully exploited. The Green & Black chocolate offer at Sainsburys right now means I'm gorging on my fave chocolate every day, so that hopefully by the time the offer ends I will be sick of the stuff.
3. If you have something at Debenhams on your wish list, lie low and wait until a Blue Cross sale.  You will see the price of your target purchase slashed -- by up to 70 per cent.
4. Get a Boot's Advantage card -- it's like getting free money. Clock up points with boring purchases like nappies and toothpaste, then use them for something fun like cosmetics.
5. Use voucher code websites to find discounts and free delivery offers for all your favourite Internet shopping haunts.  www.vouchercodes.com and www.vouchercodes.co.uk have saved me lots of lovely lolly on fashion finds.
6. To save electricity, turn appliances off rather than keeping them on standby.
7. To save gas, tweak your thermostat down.  Every degree costs you quids on your bill.
8. Check your mobile phone tariff is working for you -- I nearly got laughed out of Phones 4 U when they realised I was on an aged tariff that was a blatant rip off -- switching to a new one has halved my bills. 
9. Check your bank statement -- what charges are you paying and are you taking advantage of any perks your account offers?  I found I'd been paying a premium for account services such as travel and motor insurance, but had been paying for these elsewhere as well.  
10. Make the most of your skills and those of family to DIY as much as you can -- getting my mum to hem my jeans rather than taking them to the dry cleaners saves me £12.  Even if I purchase a thank-you bottle of wine, I can save over a fiver.
11. Buy in bulk for things you use every day -- that's 72 Weetabix please; 24 loo rolls... Your house may end up looking like Costco, but you'll save more than a bit of loose change.

Supermums under fire

A new survey from Cambridge University suggests that support for "have it all" mums is on the wane. Comparing stats from the eighties, nineties and noughties, the poll suggests that increasing numbers of men and women believe that family life suffers if a mother continues to work rather than filling the traditional shoes of a stay-at-home mum."Supermums" who juggle adrenaline-fuelled days at the top of the career tree with baking fairy cakes and reading bedtime stories are considered by many to be the stuff of legend. Juggling this precarious load, the survey suggests, is like living under a huge, wobbly stack of Jenga blocks... Yet, despite more people saying it can't work: it does and it must. While being a mum and a homemaker is undoubtedly the hardest job in the world, mums deserve the option to be "super" career women if they want. Their professional success pre-motherhood is every bit as hard-earned as their partner's and their work ethic as committed. As the kid of a working mum, I salute the Herculean effort it took for her to hold down a job and be as complete a mum as I could have wanted. The sad truth is that motherhood is like a handicap in the workplace -- with flexible working hours just edging into most employers' consciousness and challenging part-time roles a myth -- it's a wonder that any mum returns from maternity leave with a clear route defined on her career map. As a mum that juggles home-working with caring for a son, I raise a toast to women that stay at home too. Let's face it there's no easy option: there's just hard-won choices and the best we can do in our given circumstances, driven by career goals, financial pressures and, most of all, the quest to be great parents. And our own intuition, rather than the opinions of others, will tell us whether we are doing what's best for our families.

The Government v The Apprentice

Watching the 10 o'clock news has become my substitute for The Apprentice since my favourite show went off air. Each day there's a new installment of Governmental gaffes that offer just as much cringe value as The Apprentice dishes up. Michael Sophocles' dismal understanding of Jewish tradition (the kosher/halal chicken debacle) gave us a squirm in your seat moment akin to the one I had this week on hearing the Government's back-of-a-cigarette-packet plan to tackle knife crime. Forcing perps of knife crimes to visit victims in hospital? Widely thought of as a ludicrous idea that could add to victims' woes, the plan was ditched faster than you could say "You're Fired!" Jacqui Smith's U-turn a day after the proposal was like a last ditch attempt by a trainee Apprentice to escape a dressing down in the boardroom: Desperate and truly agonising to witness. How many nails-scraping-against-the-blackboard moments must we endure from our Government til we see a flash of genius -- the quality that sorts the wheat from the chaff in The Apprentice? Today's task -- to try and stave off inflationary wage increases -- should give them a challenge to get stuck into. Let's hope they can rise to it!

The Wedding Wrecker

Vicar David Cameron is in hot (Holy) water after ordering the child of a bride and groom to leave his church during their marriage. Chatty toddler Cameron Thorpe was repeating his daddy's name at a crucial moment of the ceremony and the vicar objected. Now Cameron's parents, Ashley & Vicky Thorpe, are claiming that the vicar pooped on their wedding party.  I can see two sides to the argument here: On one hand, a marriage should not be taken lightly and the bride and groom need to concentrate during their vows. On the other, you want your nearest and dearest to share your special day, not least your own kids. I do wonder if David Cameron has had his fill of weddings where the "Big Day" rules and the local church is viewed simply as a quaint backdrop for the fairytale. That said, the Church needs to start attracting young members, not ejecting those already inside its walls. It's something I've had first-hand experience of -- after my ungodly nuptials, I wanted a blessing in my grandma's church. I sent an email to the vicar, not identifying myself as the grand-daughter of a long-serving (50 years) member of his church. My email was never acknowledged, my grandma died and the plan was forgotten. At her funeral, the vicar was outed when my mum asked him why he didn't reply to my email. He didn't know who I was, he claimed. The bottom line is it shouldn't matter. How many people must the Church turn away before it gets with the programme? In the noughties, vicars must be seen (to welcome each member of their congregation) and not heard (to complain about them).

Independence Day

Tomorrow is July 4th, Independence Day, commemorating the United States' independence from Great Britain, established on July 4, 1776. This year, I'm hijacking the celebration for my own ends, declaring it an Independence Day for glamorous dresses cruelly subjected to a life incarcerated. I will be freeing one of my dresses and a group of friends will be letting theirs loose too -- the dresses will take part in a freedom march to a local bar where cocktails will be drunk in their honour. After all, frocks should never languish unloved in closets. Time too to emancipate high heels, make-up and bling... long live glamour!

It's drive time

My driving instructor is calling for me in 1.5 hours and I'm feeling less of a girl racer with every passing minute. It's bringing back memories of driving lessons circa 1992 when I was 17, clammy palmed and sweating like billio. Not much has changed it seems, except I'm 16 years older and ought to be a seasoned pro behind the wheel by now.  Instead, I'm nervous for me and scared for the people of Horsham. If I survive the two-hour crash (ahem!) course, I will share the tale. 

The girl racer is back!

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A storm in an AA cup

It's war! To be specific it's "Bra Wars". I'm waging a one woman crusade against the sizeist shops that don't stock bras made for my petite frame. After travelling from A to B in cup sizes while pregnant, then from B to C while nursing my son, I've hurtled at breakneck speed after weaning back past my original size to an AA-cup. What a white knuckle ride that's been, watching my assets depreciate. After a brief flirtation with bountiful curves, I'm not complaining, being small up top is "me". My physique is fairly unscathed by childbirth and my boobs, while small, haven't headed South. It's a blessing and I'm counting it. No, I haven't got a beef with Mother Nature, just the lingerie departments that stock only a smattering of bras in my new size -- and hurtfully describe them as "training" bras. At 33, I'm past wearing L plates -- I've come to terms with womanhood and love feeling sexy. But now I find myself banned from wearing seductive, fashionable lingerie. Bra Wars have begun and my search for undies that fit continues -- and, if the grim assortment of teenage bras on offer on the high street is anything to go by, it looks like it will take me to a galaxy far, far away...

The Pterodactyl has landed!

Come on!  Lee McQueen has triumphed in The Apprentice... The lad came good with his mix of charm and brashness, which led him to become Sir Alan's favourite. He didn't so much as trounce Claire as capitalise on her annoying "motor mouth" trait: Alan decided that her grating stream of consciousness would just be too much to bear, despite Claire being streets ahead of Lee in toughness and confidence. As for finalists Alex and Helene, being boring was their downfall. Alex "only 24" Wotherspoon and Helene "it wasn't me" Speight delivered a mind-numbing presentation to launch their Dual perfume. And Alan smelled a rat when he saw their expensive bottle design, which would have wiped out their profit. It was a satisfying end to the show for me -- I just hope Lee doesn't let success go to his head. He says he wants to go out and buy a Porsche -- just what the world needs, another cocky salesman driving a Porsche!

Top 5 Good News Stories

Anyone else had their fill of bad news?  I know I wish I could turn on the 10 o'clock news without wincing at the stories of people going hungry, getting poorer, losing their homes and jobs... 

So, I'm hot on the trail of some much needed good news and here's what I've found:

1. Peter Andre is voted "top dad" : One of my guilty TV pleasures is Katie & Peter: The Next Chapter. Pete seems like a nice, down to earth bloke and a good dad so it's nice to see him recognised, even if it is in a contest sponsored by Daddies Sauce.
2. Women with breast cancer can now live just as long as healthy women: Successful breast screening programmes mean that tumours are being found early and women can go on to lead a healthy life. Good to hear a positive story about the NHS.
3. Four cups of tea a day cuts heart attack risk: I love a cuppa, so it's great news that tea drinking has been found to cut down the chance of a heart attack, as well as boosting hydration and alertness. At last, a favourite British pastime that's healthy!
4. The world's oldest church is discovered in Jordan: A news story thats genuinely amazing -- archeologists have discovered a church they believe to date back to between 33AD and 70AD, which makes it the earliest known place for Christian worship. 
5. Sir Alan will choose his Apprentice today: As a fan of The Apprentice, I'm revving up for tonight's finale. It looks to be an exciting send off for the show, as an unprecedented four finalists get to show their mettle in a last ditched attempt to get hired.

Phew!  I set out to find ten stories, but have settled for five: it's tough uncovering the heartwarming, uplifting, exciting and amazing -- and I didn't want to resort to the story of the pig in boots that doesn't like walking in mud... although it did make me titter.

Summer playtime for big kids

I played rounders yesterday with a group of friends that are big kids just like me.  Despite not having played the game since we were all about nine, we loved it: the thrill of running in the sunshine, the boys' delight in the inability of girls to catch a ball, the cut-throat competitiveness between boys and girls teams -- it was exactly like the summer PE classes of old. Probably two decades have passed since most of us last picked up a rounders bat, but it was so much fun. After one game, in which the girls team was beaten by an unchivalrous boys team, we all collapsed: nine year olds have more endurance it seems in this particular sport. We returned to our picnic blankets where our babies were busy with their own games -- but I know who got a bigger kick out of this afternoon of play in the park.

Surely it's crunch time for loan sharks?

With the deafening noise of the credit crunch being blasted from the TV, radio and newspapers, it's impossible to avoid the bad news of economic downturn. So, why in today's post am I offered a £7,500 priority loan from the people with whom I have an agreement to pay for my sofa in installments? The fact that I can afford a £600 sofa in a few bite size chunks doesn't make me one of their "best customers" surely. If they bothered to check, my income is pretty low right now due to taking on minimal work while I look after my baby boy. So how come the loan sharks are still circling me? It's a bit of a worrying thought that people with as little disposable cash as I have may well be dipping into loans like this just to break even with rising costs of fuel, food and mortgages. The people sending out these loan offers should be held to ransom for putting temptation in people's paths. Now, where's my shredder...?

Sex & The City Fever

In 2004, I joined two girlfriends for a farewell party to see off four of our closest friends: the Sex & The City girls. Knocking back Cosmos, we enjoyed the final thrilling circuits of a rollercoaster ride full of emotion, laughter and tears.  The series had been in our lives for six years: when it started I was 23, living in London, a single girl about town, looking for love, passion, excitement. Which is why the sexploits of Carrie and friends had me drooling in anticipation of each new episode. SATC offered counsel to girls like me and uplifting mantras to chant when hot new men revealed themselves to be cads. When Miranda learned that when men don't call you it means "He's just not that into you!" she was grateful of the simplicity of the explanation -- and we were too. After 4 years, the new SATC movie stages a reunion between fans of the series and our favourite ballsy New York gals. But can it work? Or are we all just too much older, too fragmented, too different to be brought together again? Take me -- the girl about town is now a married mum that's decamped to the country. How can I relate to Carrie now? I went to the movie feeling excited to find out what had happened to her and the rest of the fabulous four... I found out that they, like me, are a tad more serious, have a few more wrinkles and a bit more flab (okay not SJP). Unlike me, they have inexplicably fabulous wardrobes (how much do writers and lawyers get paid in New York?). But three of the girls (or scriptwriters?) seemed stuck in a loop repeating the same old mistakes (or story lines). And, whereas the series SATC was about "sex" and "The City", the film has little of either. The characters' sex lives and New York fade into the background, while the film's spotlight is on Carrie. I wanted more, more, more juicy details about the lives of the other three and I left the cinema with my appetite not sated (not counting the bag of Butterkist popcorn I gobbled). An entertaining film, yes.  But, for hard-core SATC fans, I'm not sure the encore is worth the wait.

Who will you support?

I'm getting jarred off by the BBC's ads for Euro 2008. "Who will you support?" Gary Lineker chirpily asks? I'll tell you who -- no one! Are the Beeb deluded about the British generosity of spirit? Without our own team to cheer or jeer, the event's a dud. And the ads just keep re-opening the wounds we sustained when our nations failed to qualify. The BBC would do better to focus on other Summer sporting events rather than flog this dead horse. Events we have a chance of winning, preferably. Let's face it, it's a big enough stretch for an English person to support Scot Andy Murray at Wimbledon.  But we'll back him if he'll let us, as he's a rare hope of British sporting glory. 

The Good Life is So Now

With To The Manor Born coming back to our screens last Christmas, it occurred to me that The Good Life couldn't be more ripe for a revival. Tom and Barbara are so now -- with their animal rearing, veggie-growing antics, they are an example to us all in sustainable living. It occurs to me that Tom, Barbara, Margot and Jerry are also fashion icons whose style wouldn't look amiss on the streets today.  That's why I've nicknamed the new jeans on my want list "Barbara": tight around the bottom and ever so slightly flared, they look like the sort of jean that Barbara would have chosen -- enhancing the pert derriere that so many teenage boys must have lusted after in Felicity Kendal's 1970's heydey.

With dreams like these...

"Dare to dream" is a motto I like the sound of... except that these days the calibre of my dreams is not exactly aspirational. Last night, for instance, I dreamt that the washing-up liquid had run out and I was outraged as I had only just bought a new bottle. Whatever happened to the sort of dreams I used to have when I woke up and grabbed a paper and pen, convinced I could write a novel based on the clever plot? I will have to address this lack of slumbering creativity tonight!

Facebook's facelift could iron out its quirks

The BBC reports that Facebook is unveiling a new de-cluttered look. Profile pages will be split into five pages to help syphon off some of the functions, games and quizzes away from the main page. Some say the redesign is like fixing something that ain't broke -- and it could be killing off the personality of a social networking phenomenon that has attracted millions of users.  I have to say I agree: isn't it at odds with the original concept to try to create a polished, commercial look? I've never been one for throwing sheep or killing zombies, but I think some of the fun of Facebook is how chaotic some of the profile pages have become.

The wedding hijackers are putting people off

A new survey says that the cost of weddings is putting folks off getting married.  This is quite a shame, as the dreaded "cost" is a case of the Emperor's new clothes.  People have been brainwashed to believe that nuptials can't take place unless decent amounts of wedge have been thrown at the rock (forget it if you don't spend a whole month's salary says a diamond specialist's press office), Hen and Stag extravaganzas (only several days abroad will suffice), the dress (bespoke dahlink), the flowers (enough to bring on a chorus of hayfeverish sneezing in the Church) and the honeymoon (this must be somewhere suitably exotic, exclusive and secluded (this extended time alone together must surely be a contributory factor to the divorce rate).  It is all tosh -- a wedding can be done cheaply if you're concerned with the act of getting married rather than the exhibitionism of The Big Day. But that's not to say that, if you have the reddies, a grand affair isn't a nice thing.

Top 10 useless things

Having lost its partner, I am left with a solitary butter-soft leather glove. I am resisting chucking it as it is beautiful. But it's also totally useless. Like everything listed here:

1. A single glove (or sock, or shoe)
   
2. A dress that's trapped in long gone fashion moment
3. A mobile phone rendered obsolete by an upgrade
4. An old passport revealing a best forgotten dodgy barnet
5. An entry in your address book for a person you no longer see
6. A bottle of Metaxa bought on your Greek holiday in '95
7. Nail varnish in any time sensitive colour 
8. Photos of you and an ex you'd rather forget
9. An old employment contract
10. Old birthday/Christmas cards 

A sucker for memorabilia, I've kept things like these, excusing my chronic hoarding with the argument that they have historical value. But it's time for a clear-out: Farewell gorgeous glove, adios '80's frock, bye-bye black nail varnish!

What happened to the age of innocence?

Tie-flicking, Chinese burns, wedgies: play-fighting has always been a part of growing up. But now playground combat is spilling over into the streets, mutating into a murderous blood sport. Kids are being killed for being caught up in gangs and for refusing to fight. Young men are being knifed to death in broad daylight. In a society that has no fear of the police, that knows the nearest bobby is probably miles away, kids are out of control, fuelled by anger and hatred beyond their years. I'd like to keep my boy innocent for as long as possible, so that childhood can be childhood, with a bit of healthy scrapping and the odd black eye. 

Sticking to a career goal

My career has three eras to date.  The first, after university, was a stint in retail.  Bizarre to think of the days when I served Ringo Starr in Prada.  And nearly fell into a rail of posh garms when Robbie Williams strutted through the door.  Then came my PR phase... highlights include hurtling across Kingsway in Holborn with a giant turkey trying to get it cooked for a Christmas press show.  And serving cocktails at the Hilton's Windows bar, where we hosted a party for Jasper Conran. Now, after a second university sentence, I am reborn as a writer, penning words for magazines and commercial clients.  I'm still on the PR grapevine and happy to write PR stuff like press releases. It takes a steely will not to get roped back into being a fully-fledged PR -- in that field, money doesn't exactly grow on trees, but it is certainly easier to come by.  But I'm staying focused -- a lot of sweat has gone into getting where I am and getting sidetracked could cost me more than dollar.

After The Weather

Looking a bit dreary outside.  I will amuse myself today by noting how many people refuse to take on board that the weather has reverted to normal:  marching through puddles in flip-flops isn't a good look. There are a lot of folks on this isle who believe a bout of good weather is worth celebrating long after the sun stops shining -- after two days of mud-splattered legs and goose bumps, they recover their senses.

The Weather

For days, it's been sunny with perfect blue skies.  The glorious weather has sent the nation into shock:  I've seen bikinis in the park and overheard many excited conversations where twittering about the weather has been the central theme.  Coming back from Miami where the sun shining is virtually a given, it's quite refreshing to return to a nation beside itself with glee over a few rays.  We are lucky that the sunshine has such a power to lift our spirits. 

That's what I'm talking about!

Not to get too obsessed with The Apprentice, but I did have two weeks off so I've got a bit of catching up to do... Last night's episode was what it's all about: two sackings and a brutal dressing down for a whole team of incompetents.  Hurrah!  And praise be for Lee McQueen for his commitment to pure entertainment:  Rooster impersonations, repetitive and flamboyant use of the phrase, "that's what I'm talking about!" and hilarious overstatement of this own opinion:  "I, Lee McQueen, am concerned."  Comedy gold.

First words of many

My little boy has just started to speak.  So far, his vocabulary includes "mummy", "daddy" and various Russian sounding words.  These first words amaze me -- they are precious because our boy is growing up and learning about language and communicating, but also because they are the first of many that he will utter in his life.  And who knows where his power of speech will take him: he could be a great orator, a diplomat, a spokesperson for something he believes in -- or simply a great friend to his mates that always has the right words to say at the right moment.  I hope he learns to enjoy language and use it well -- it's a strong ally to have on your side throughout life.

Soldier Simon gets his marching orders

After a lengthy cooling off period following last night's The Apprentice I am calm. But get me going and I could happily let off steam again, like the volley of expletives I directed at our flat screen last night. Another wrongful sacking and more tomfoolery from the most odious bunch of game players ever to grace reality TV. This week's axed contender, Simon Smith, was the ex-army salt o' the earth grafter. As team leader, his straight talking didn't get support from his team: notably arch villain Alex and gobby Claire. Sir Alan wasn't hoodwinked: he saw what was going on but still gave Simon the boot. Why? Well, there's the small matter of him actually losing money on the task he was given. But it seemed fairly obvious that the chances of making moula were set back massively by his cowardly comrades. Foul play shouldn't be tolerated on this game - I say bring on the firing squad for Alex and Claire.

Miami? Nice!

I am so excited to be just three days away from a holiday in Miami. The nine hour flight is the only blot on an otherwise tropical landscape. Nine hours with a baby on your lap is a real challenge. How do people do it? I usually cope with long flights by self-administering a medicinal G&T or two, watching bad movies and, finally, trying to catch 40 winks. The pain of annoying co-passengers can be soothed by wearing ear plugs (so you can't hear them) and an eye mask (so you can't see them). Then, the only indication that they are there is the odd shunt to the back of your seat or an elbow in your eye socket. This time will be different. Not only will I have to be aware of my surroundings and alert enough to look after my boy, but I will also be worrying whether we are offending other passengers with our shuffling and noise. If I suddenly find myself surrounded by masked people shoving plugs into their ears, I will know the score.

Doherty in jail drugs shocker

The Sun reports the shocking news today that banged-up Pete Doherty is still taking drugs. The Wormwood Scrubs resident is "clucking for" heroin. Front page news? The useless rocker repeatedly makes the headlines for his drug addiction and continual flouting of the law, but when does the "news value" of his sorry situation run out? He is no longer famous by association and his music career is a joke, so why does this junkie deserve column inches? Or blog posts for that matter... 

London calling

After three trips into the Big Smoke in two weeks, I have fallen in love with London all over again. The last time was no whirlwind romance: I lived there for 14 years and loved almost every minute. The buzz, the fashion, the irreverence, the chaos, the humour, people from all countries stuck there like bees clinging to an irresistible honey pot. Down points: the anonymity that feels so refreshing when you arrive can make you feel alone; handbag thieves; burglars; living on the "murder mile"; people in suits that don't give you their seat on the tube no matter how pregnant you are... oh yes, London has lots of foibles. And, just like any great love, there's a moment when passion is dampened by reality:  the equivalent of pants on the floor, socks on the sofa and stubble in the basin... After all, no love is perfect. But, with London and me, absence has definitely made the heart grow fonder.

Britz don't have spelling skillz

Can you spell "questionnaire"? If you can't, you're in good company -- neither can 40% of British adults. A survey today reveals that many adults are stumped when asked to spell everyday words, with "accommodate" and "definitely" being among the most perplexing. Some blame dependency on text and email for their inability to spell and one in ten do not think accurate spelling is important. How does this bode for the evolution of our language? If parents can't be bothered to spell, will children inherit a mutant language in which abbreviation is the norm? If u can't w8 to find out what the English of the future will sound like, a feature in the New Scientist might give you a clue. "English as she will be spoke" by Michael Erard asks how our language will sound in 500 years. Erard explains, "What seems certain is that new words will form, meanings will migrate, and obsolete words will die out. These are the facts of life for any language." He adds, "The future depends heavily on where influences are coming from. For the foreseeable future, the most dramatic change will be made by people learning English as a second language."  He says a new global form of English is developing, labelled "Globish". Whether you look with horror on the development of our language, or embrace the change, it seems a new era of the English language is upon us. Still, there's no excuse for bad spelling  is there?

Three cheers for bumper days

Bumper days are days when everything is just peachy. The opposite to those 24-hour sequences where bad luck slaps you in the face and stabs you in the back. When you feel like Jack Bauer struggling against adversity just to survive the day. Bumper days are the flip-side: life resembles a triumphant Monopoly game, where all the Chance and Community Chest cards are stacked in your favour. Today I'm having one!  Two new clients, some fun jobs in the pipeline AND the sun is shining.  Better stop congratulating myself and get climbing my mountain of work.  Only then can I pass "Go" and collect my reward.  

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Is Alan Sugar Mr Fix It?

Alan Sugar, you're fired!  The Apprentice star should be given the boot for his decision to be Mr Entertainment rather than this usual straight-talking, ball-busting self.  How could he let vindictive bully Jenny stay, while organised Shazia gets the boot?  Type casting plays a part -- Jenny is being groomed/edited into a "Katie-alike", modelled on fork-tongued Katie Hopkins, the posh predator of the last series.  Sad that the series has to resort to culling less watchable characters who might make worthy apprentices given half the chance.  The credibility of the show seems doubtful after this ratings-led firing.  As an Apprentice addict, my viewership is hanging by a thread... until 9pm next week when no-doubt cold turkey will get the better of me.

Depression? How depressing!

I can only remember the boom days so it shakes me to the core to hear how the US's economic crisis is deepening.  And it's not the Fat Cats that are getting thinner, but folks who were treading a financial tight rope anyway.  The latest pinch -- parting many homeowners from their homes and many grafters from their jobs -- means that putting food on the table is becoming a challenge for increasing numbers.  The Independent reports that, in the fiscal year starting October, 28 million people in the US will be using government food stamps to buy their groceries, the most since the 60s.  There has been a huge increase in the application for food stamps across 40 states of the richest country on earth.  So how does this bode for us in Blighty?  No one knows for sure... On the upside, if anyone needs a motive to beat the work blues this could be it.  As long as we have a job, we should be galloping to work with joy, banking our pay cheques with glee and thanking our lucky stars we haven't got anything to be too depressed about (yet).

Beautiful Bruni should be proud to be Starkerszy

France's First Lady Carla Bruni is said to be fuming about Christies showcasing a nude print of her hours before a state visit of the newlywed Sarkozys to Britain. The Sun reports today that she is desperate to downplay her past as a supermodel and serial rock star lover, preferring to style herself as a demure consort. The woman is mad... who in their right mind wouldn't be chuffed to see their picture plastered everywhere if their naked body looked so dang good. Bruni can't escape her past, so the best option is to hold her head up high.

Tessa's bad karma and a cheeky headline

The story involving Tessa Jowell and her new gipsy neighbours is a brilliant tale of how the wheel of fortune can turn so cruelly. The Sun's headline "Cheek by Jowell" got a titter from me. Thriving on a hefty dose of schadenfreude, the story goes that Tessa, who evicted gipsies from East London to clear sites for the 2012 Olympics, now has 64 travellers as her neighbours.  The worst news for Tessa is that they have decided to stop travelling, having bought the land as a permanent home. Ironically, the gipsies didn't know who lived next door when they set up camp. But, since finding out, they are thrilled. Poor old Tessa: the MP must be gutted to hear the gipsies talk of "payback time" and boast that it will take eight years for them to be evicted for breaching planning laws. 

Credit where credit's due

The global financial system's taking a battering. Credit will be harder to come by and we're being advised to reduce debt, tighten belts and save for an uncertain future.  But if you were a good borrower before the credit crunch, taking out loans or cards you could afford and keeping up repayments, you will still be able to get credit.  It's those who have been borrowing beyond their means, taking further hand-outs to repay that debt, that have been shuffling ever closer to a personal financial precipice. For some, there may be no option but to hurtle lemming-like over the edge. As someone who recently took out a self-cert mortgage, I am amazed at how much money was on the table with little evidence of our ability to pay it back.  Luckily, I had a great IFA, who kept us focused on taking out a mortgage that we could afford come economic rain or shine. It's easy to fall foul of the system though -- I recently heard of family friends in dire straits after a remortgage and arrears on the repayments have left them facing repossession.  When this happens to real people you know, you can't help being afraid.  I'm going to dust off my piggy bank and start saving for a rainy day.

Facing up to a Fakebook disaster

Who has the biggest party hangover today?  A young lady called Sarah Ruscoe who has become a victim of a style of networking I'm calling "Fakebooking".  Community sites like Facebook have made listing friends a competitive sport.  Which is how it was possible for Sarah to invite 300 "fake mates" and 200 virtual acquaintances to her 18th birthday party.  What she didn't bargain on was how quickly word would spread.  The Guardian reports today how a combination of a poster about the party at a local Grammar school and details about it on MySpace, school bulletin boards and Facebook, attracted 2000 teenage revellers to the posh pile.  Sarah's parents were powerless as their place received a anarchic trashing of punk-worthy proportions.  The birthday girl's mum Rebecca seems far too posh for rhyming slang, but I am sure she will agree that the evening went truly "Pete Tong" following the shout-out on Tong's Radio 1 show mentioning the function among the cool places to be that night.  Oops.

No drugs for me, it's only a spot of labour

The BBC news website reports today that many women underestimate the pain of labour and childbirth and want to get through the ordeal without any drugs. Research at Newcastle University has revealed massive discrepancies between the expectation of labour and the actual experience (really?), which means that the quarter of women who have an epidural often feel a sense of failure. I can empathise with this, as I was encouraged by midwives, NCT ante natal classes and a private course with Birth Days, to find natural alternatives to pain relief and I would have been gutted if my birth plan had not panned out. For me, it worked, but I felt embarrassed revealing my good experience to those whose resembled a chapter from a Stephen King novel.  But I didn't go into labour blindly expecting a blissful time. I imagined pain of the Medieval torture ilk -- like having your body torn apart on the rack. Having been told that drugs could extend the agony by slowing down labour, I thought that an epidural would be harder work than going au naturel.  So I strapped on a TENS machine as soon as the first twinges of labour started to niggle. This released endorphins rather than adrenaline and helped keep panic levels down. Admittedly, there was a tipping point when I lamented, "This fXX*ing thing doesn't work!". Another clincher: living close to the hospital (how many have that luxury?) - I stayed at home so long, it was almost too late for hard core drugs when I checked in. Ultimately, there's no right or wrong way to give birth - we just do the best we can and, as first time mums, we can't possibly imagine what's in store. I was lucky to go to a midwife led unit, the Mary Rose Maternity Centre in Portsmouth, where caring support and a wonderful birthing pool was the best medicine for me. 

Tips on morale boosting for home workers

I'm self-employed and work from home, which doesn't suit everybody. If you've worked 9 to 5 before, the freedom can come as a culture shock... and so can the lack of a trusty monthly pay cheque. When work is slow, you have to remind yourself that you are actually a professional. There's no-one to pat you on the back for the introductory letters, emails and pitches you have toiled over. And, if you're in my line of work, reading new magazines and dreaming up feature ideas can feel like play rather than work in the traditional sense. Here are my top self-motivation tips to help put the puff back in your shoulder pads when you feel less business-like than your office-bound peers:

1. Create a separate work space, away from distractions, and make sure you can walk away from it at the end of the day.
2. Ask for testimonials for every job you do.  Reading them is like a shot of adrenaline when you need a self-esteem boost.
   
3. Make at least one business call a day to remind yourself that you exist in a world with other humans.
4. Start every day by reading the news and being aware of what is going on in the world outside your front door.
5. Get into a business-like routine:  You work from home, but that's no excuse to slouch around in sweat pants all day.  
6. Focus:  To Do Lists aren't just for the employed.  Your time is money, so set goals and use it wisely.
7. Bookmark the Enterprise Nation website for lots of amazing advice for home workers.

Rewired and ready for action

Getting back into the swing of things after having my son Nathan is exciting. I've read some books to give me a giddy-up, like the brilliant The Greatest Freelance Writing Tips in the World by Linda Jones and The Renegade Writer: A Totally Unconventional Guide to Freelance Writing Success by Linda Formichelli and Diana Burrell.  More on these later, but just a quick note on one of the many helpful things I have learned:  Editors are human beings just like me. Having worked in PR for 10 years, I saw how the PR and journalistic worlds run parallel, rarely to meet as friends. It was assumed by some that if you had the PR chip, you didn't have the right wiring to be a good journalist. When I started out this held me back. As I get fired up for working life again, thanks to Linda, Linda and Diana for reminding me that a little fear is healthy, even motivational, but should never be an obstacle.  

Rainy days & Mondays

The lead story on the BBC website is the dismal weather.  As the country gets a battering from rain and wind, the stats are being gathered: 80mph winds, blocked roads, power cuts, flood warnings... the news rooms relish weather-based hysteria.  I can't help feeling smug:  A year ago today I was getting married and the sun shone.  Our big day was bathed in a golden glow and the daffodils danced in the Spring breeze.  What were we thinking having our wedding in early March in a cottage at the end of a mud-track?  Could've been a mucky affair.  During the build-up, clicking refresh on the BBC weather website became my pre-wedding OCD.

Heart-to-heart

A friend this week said that she was looking forward to going away with her hubby at the weekend because they would have time to talk.  She wasn't referring to a scary "talk" but just a good old chat, the kind you have when you are dating.  It made me think about how many folks communicate on a need-to-know basis without regularly flexing their talk muscles.  So I'm making a "new month resolution" for March to practise the art of proper conversation with my other half every day.

Healthy attitude

There's nothing like a brush with death to give you a kick up the jacksy and make you Go For It! A health scare has bugged me for two weeks like an theme tune I couldn't get out of my head.  But now the irritating jingle has gone for good after the doc gave me a clean bill of health.  So I'm full of the joys and feeling invincible.  Time to fill that head space with fabulous new pitch ideas.  Or chase that editor whose silence is deafening.  What doesn't kill me will make me stronger, right?