I feel I might have held back a bit about my feelings and fears before I boarded that plane to France on New Year's Eve. I'd been really quite choked as I left the house, set the alarm and waved good-bye for what could have been the last time to my temporary home for the last 7 years.
Tamara was the Hostess with the Mostest when I arrived just outside Cambridge - tasty risotto, foreign wines and liquers, and the best massage I have had in ages - what started as a back rub soon transmogrified into the best all-over massage I have ever had - wish she was my Mum ( nb: if my Mum ever tried anything similar it would be much more scary and feel medicinal rather than relaxing).
I was very nervous as I drove to the airport - and once I got there, I was conscious of my anonymity - I couldn't speak to anyone - how do you bring up in conversation that you are about to fly out to meet a total stranger/potential serial killer and not look like a complete saddo - so my thoughts did turn to doing Star Jumps in the middle of the terminal - that would be something memorable for CrimeWatch if worst came to worst! And there was always the possibility of £250 from Jeremy Beadle or that fat bird from Emmerdale if I survived.
I'm glad to report that my decision not to exercise at Stansted airport proved a good one.
I was in court this morning. Not an unusual experience for me - it was a bit odd recognizing not only half the solicitors wandering about the place, the Court Usher, 1 of the magistrates, 2 witnesses in another trial and most of the defendants ( I am so glad I moved away from Legal Help work) but actually being one of the parties is so much more nerve-wracking than being there professionally. I bottled at last minute and rang a mate to represent me.
He did a good job - guided by me of course - and I came away having given the impression to Stephen and the mags that I was philanthropic and utterly wonderful - so much so, that Syephen has started to form a One-Man-Fan Club. He's toasting his Cider to me as we speak.
Tamara was the Hostess with the Mostest when I arrived just outside Cambridge - tasty risotto, foreign wines and liquers, and the best massage I have had in ages - what started as a back rub soon transmogrified into the best all-over massage I have ever had - wish she was my Mum ( nb: if my Mum ever tried anything similar it would be much more scary and feel medicinal rather than relaxing).
I was very nervous as I drove to the airport - and once I got there, I was conscious of my anonymity - I couldn't speak to anyone - how do you bring up in conversation that you are about to fly out to meet a total stranger/potential serial killer and not look like a complete saddo - so my thoughts did turn to doing Star Jumps in the middle of the terminal - that would be something memorable for CrimeWatch if worst came to worst! And there was always the possibility of £250 from Jeremy Beadle or that fat bird from Emmerdale if I survived.
I'm glad to report that my decision not to exercise at Stansted airport proved a good one.
I was in court this morning. Not an unusual experience for me - it was a bit odd recognizing not only half the solicitors wandering about the place, the Court Usher, 1 of the magistrates, 2 witnesses in another trial and most of the defendants ( I am so glad I moved away from Legal Help work) but actually being one of the parties is so much more nerve-wracking than being there professionally. I bottled at last minute and rang a mate to represent me.
He did a good job - guided by me of course - and I came away having given the impression to Stephen and the mags that I was philanthropic and utterly wonderful - so much so, that Syephen has started to form a One-Man-Fan Club. He's toasting his Cider to me as we speak.
posted by Cherrypie at 7:00 am
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