"Oh no, not Jason Bieber..."

Hello, blog. We meet again. It has been some time.

As my regular readers will have guessed I have been now living in London for nearly two months. I am employed by a well known bank... although I still haven't had my first day. Life is very dull, considering this is the capital, the big smoke, the hub of the United Kingdom. However, I have had a few interesting experiences so far, which I will tell you about whilst attempting to be as witty and charming as possible (not very).

First thing of note was a job that I was offered, at which I lasted ONE DAY. Yes, maybe I should have stuck it out, I hear you cry - unfortunately, this was impossible as I am impatient. It was at a gym (ironic, I know) where I was to be one of three receptionists. This was fine, as I have done this before. I will outline my first shift.

4.30am

That's right - A.M. I wake up and get in to the shower. Already feeling rather peeved as it is so bloody early and dark and raining. 

5.30am

Catch the tube to work. Am quietly confident that tube will be dead at this time of morning. AM HORRIBLY WRONG. Tube desperately packed and I am sweaty and tired. Anger levels rising.

5.45am

Get off tube and walk entirely wrong direction. Turn around and walk other way.

6am

Arrive at work. Other receptionist is late. Am worried but go inside and go to reception - what else am I to do?

6.30am

Members arrive. Computers are down so I am panicking. Tell them to go in anyway. They say lockers will not work unless I swipe their card. Could not care less, but tell them it will be fine.

7am

Other receptionist finally arrives. Is Polish.

7.30am - 11am

Computers are down until 9am. Am trying to help members but Polish bint is telling them to ignore me as I am new and "don't know what I am talking about". RAGE.

11 - 11.30am

Break. Walk around block with a costa, debating next move.

11.30am

"Induction". Manager tells me no time for induction, but sign sheet anyway. 

11.30am - 2.30pm

Be patronised by the Polish and am made to clean the bogs. Apparently am cleaner now.

2.30pm

Leave work and phone Dad. Cry as am tired and huffy. Get tube home and fall asleep at 9pm.

Now, I realise I may have been dramatic, but I cannot hack early starts and the other receptionist was mean. Luckily, the bank were waiting for me (Mum works there) and I was employed rather soon after (although currently still waiting for first day, meaning I am el skinto).

Ugly Ginger has had some rather eventful times. I shall give you my top ten (many consist of her opinions whilst watching the television).

1) UG went to the toilet and dropped her phone down it. Cue drying it for hours on radiator and loss of number four button. Now cannot text properly and all messages received are riddles composed by an imbecile.

2) Watching television and a man comes on and starts singing. UG, rather excitedly, "oooooh look, it's Michael Buble!" Mr Pricklepants, in reply, "no. That's Russell Watson." Idiot.

3) Watching 'Celebrity Juice' and Keith Lemon pretends to Riverdance to an Irish dancing soundtrack. All of us laughing, including Ugly Ginger. At end, she sighs, "so, were he really dancing then?"

4) Watching Brit Awards, "ooooh, no, not Jason Bieber." ...

5) Walking around trying to find somewhere cheap to eat, Mr Pricklepants gets out his mobile phone to see if he can search for any vouchers. UG: "oooh have you got any vouchers on your iPod?"

6) Ugly Ginger is seen putting a photograph of Kate Middleton above bedroom mirror. When questioned, she responds, "I would like to get dressed, look in the mirror and think, 'would Kate wear this?'"

7) UG's boyfriend is looking at her rather large breasts. She decides to be spontaneous and proclaims, "ooooh just speedboat me!"

8) Discussing the rap artist, M.I.A. Me: "I quite like that song by M.I.A." UG: "Emma who?"

9) UG: "JODIE!" Me: "What?" UG: "Nothing... I just wanted to say your name."

10) UG on Billy Elliot: "All the dancers came out in their tattoos... Oh, I mean tutus."

We are also currently two housemates down. Petit Filous Bear is up north working with children doing a theatre piece and High Horse is back in Carlisle visiting her 'life partner' and having a super time. This unfortunately means that the house has been left in the dangerous hands of Ugly Ginger, Mr Pricklepants and myself. PFB and HH are the adults in the house and take care of all important matters whilst we eat chocolates and run around. I am expecting that on their return we will all be sat on the naughty step to think about how to be grown ups and look after the house, as currently we have no food in the fridge apart from a day old chicken pie and some yoghurt, with the heating on and spillages on the carpet. SEE YOU WHEN YOU GET BACK.

Now, this is really all I have to say at the moment on London life. I'm about to watch 'The Devil Wears Prada' with Mr P - his favourite film, of which he knows all of the lines - before retiring to bed. Good night.

Love you

Toodles xx

LONDON.

Bonjour!

Well we made it! The Ace Gang are officially Londoners! After so much bloody effort, arguments, tears and Ugly Ginger spearing herself on barbed wire fences, we FINALLY moved.
As we speak, Ugly Ginger, Mr Pricklepants and myself are sitting in our London kitchen, discussing who Mr P would fancy if he could pick one of us (I secretly hope he says me, if only for my ego. Not for sexual reasons.) and Ugly Ginger is cooking us lasagne, like a good little housewife.
I must say we are all feeling slightly tender today - last night was our housewarming gathering, where I consumed a bottle and a half of wine, before trekking out in search of another bottle at the off license. I shall recommend a drinking game to you all - there are no real rules as such, just get very pissed and point and laugh at the knobheads in your group of friends (Ugly Ginger). It is called the Kitchen Utensil Game. One group member must whisper to the member on his left a kitchen utensil. The second member must then BE the utensil and the rest of the group must guess what it is. All was fun and games, until Petit Filous Bear had to be a sodastream - cue her slapping her head and then her arse, before collapsing into giggles. Not so accurate, then.
So far, we are enjoying London thoroughly. We have been to such places like Covent Garden, Harrods and Oxford Street. Mr Pricklepants and I wandered round Armani and such, exclaiming that they must have a sale on due to the items being so cheap. Londoners do not like us very much.
I also tried sushi for the first time and I must say I was impressed. I will be seeking out raw fish at every angle.
Other things of note:

1) PFB and I took a zumba class. For those who are unfamiliar, is a class with lots of black ladies salsa dancing and shaking their "booties" Beyonce style. PFB and I at back of class looking like two whitest girls in universe.

2) Ugly Ginger on tube. Is a wonder in itself. Hangs on to overhead railings with both hands like an ape.

3) High Horse's incessant baking. I am on diet yet being tempted with cakes, biscuits and other goodies at every angle. Finding it hard to resist so not bothering and eating them.

4) Mr Pricklepants is still listening to musicals at full blast, but has now introduced Rihanna into the equation. Have caught him several times dancing on Ugly Ginger's pole to Rihanna music. Think he may be cross dresser/secret pole dancer in evenings.

5) Ugly Ginger cocooning self in blanket due to cold temperatures. Wrapped very tightly she attempts to sit down, but blanket knocks her down in a rugby tackle-like motion into the fireplace. Much mirth.

6) Myself being accosted at local gym by male receptionists. Told me they like a girl with an accent but then called me a foreigner. Don't know what to say to that really.

7) Have had no couches for first week due to old ones being rotten and waiting on replacements. Have been sat on floor all week like peasants.

Apologies for the most boring blog I have possibly written, but stay tuned for our London adventures.

LOVE YOU
toodles xx

The blogs, they are a'changin'

I changed my blog. I realise that, as my readers, you aren't thickos, but I thought I should address it nonetheless. Tis my way of celebrating 2k11.

LOVE YOU

Home For The Hell-idays

Hello!

First of all may I wish you all the merriest of Christmasses and a very happy new year. I have travelled back up to the far North (Fife) for the festive season, and let me tell you, it's been anything but fucking festive.

Whilst in Carlisle I was very much looking forward to coming home to see my parents. Who wouldn't after spending 6 months working at Fawlty bloody Towers and living in a house with temperatures that rival the Arctic. I packed all of my belongings up and sent them away to Manchester to live in Petit Filous Bear's house, got in my car and sped up to Scotland, looking forward to getting home and putting my feet up and eating yummy food.

And then I arrived home.

Now you must understand something. I am a woman in my twenties, who is moving to London in a matter of days, with my own car and own life. My father, bless him, isn't aware of any of this information, and if he had his way, I would be electronically tagged so he would know my whereabouts at all times.  My mother is one of these women who is always in competition with someone or other. My uncle, about who has the nicest car; My auntie, about who has the cleanest house; ME, about WHO IS THINNER. I am not built to be skinny for two reasons. 1) I like cake and sweets, and 2) I have extremely large breasts (steady) and a massive arse. My mum is the same, but I think she forgets this, and has recently gone on a major diet and exercise regime to lose weight and shape up. Obviously I think this is fantastic for her, as a few years ago I lost a couple of stone. But the second I walk through the door, she says the following:

MUM : "I've bought you some gym passes on my membership. You're looking quite overweight at the moment and obviously because I've lost all this weight I want the same for you. I burned 350 calories today on the cross trainer and I had a weight watchers soup for my lunch today."

ME: "Hi Mum, I've just left my cases in the car."

No "hello", no "how was the drive?"

Just "you're looking quite overweight".

Bitch.

So I used her fucking gym passes and toddled off to the gym, only to discover that I have put on A STONE AND A HALF! This cannot be! I don't like cakes THAT much?! ... Joke. But seriously, I was devastated - that's nearly all of the weight I worked so hard to lose! Thus I am now depressed and going to the gym and eating celery and air in a bid to be a bit skinnier. I have also realised recently that I am a 45 year old woman and purchased Davina McCall's new workout DVD. I gave my brother the fright of his life when he walked in on me doing lunges in leggings and a sports bra.

As I'm sure my most avid readers are aware, I am moving to London this month. My fabby pals (Ugly Ginger, Mr Pricklepants and PFB) are journeying down to London over the next few days to view some houses which are suitable enough for us all to live in. I am tremendously excited, although completely aware that those Southern types are going to HATE me. I am Scottish, always extremely happy and constantly cracking (shit) jokes, therefore raining on their miserable little parade (soz to all of my Southern friends - you are all fabulous).

Reasons why I should not move home

1) Mother in constant calorie competition - "fat bitch" comments are being thrown about willy nilly.
2) Father plotting to strap tracking device round my middle (I'm sure if he had his way he'd use those reigns I see toddlers wearing).
3) One of my (SIX) dogs isn't house trained very well (he's deaf and fucking stupid) and is forever pissing all over my prized possessions. He is so cute but definitely has it in for me.
4) Constantly being snowed in due to ice age-like conditions in a house with limited hot water and (most of the time) no heating. Davina-cise has therefore been an effective warming up technique.
5) Since I have returned I have had extreme toothache to the point where I am considering bashing out with a rock caveman style. Obvious sign that Scotland is BAD.
6) Canny help eating cakes. Perhaps home is not the problem as I am a fat cow really but why not blame it while we're tugging at that thread.
7) No chance of shagging at any point due to creaky bed being right next to parents room. (Note to parents: can hear your fucking creaky bed by the way)
8) Missing my chums - very funny buggers who cheer me up. Bit shit when they are in a foreign country.
9) IT'S SHIT



Much love pals.

Toodles xx