You look like a photograph of yourself taken from far far away

Check out the attitude of Micheal Phelan here

First things first, as Steve Covey recommends. You have got to, got to, GOT TO and did I mention, you've got to - check out the interpipe phenomenon that is Jimmy Bastard. Seriously. Click on the link of the brooding rugged guy in my Followers list.

Hard men are good to find and good friends are indispensable. Last night G allowed me to howl like a rabid wolf in his room (oo-er) for ten minutes, while he giggled at me from the other side of the room, shouting occasional encouragement, such as 'Yeah! Get it out of your system!!'

Then he introduced me to this, allowing us to set aside my pseudo sorrows for the rest of night and laugh ourselves silly on Damson Gin while speculating on the who's and how's that we would sing Lily Allen's latest to. Hope you enjoy it as much as we did, but I doubt it.

if they were me and I was you

I had a ridiculous amount of fun tonight with the fizzlingly ( I know, I made it up, I'm particularly proud of it), talking interpersonal behaviour, best friends and the joys and perils of love and fake breasts.

I love that our conversations are wide-ranging and eclectic, moving easily and effortlessly from questions of practical philosophy to frivolous gossip and girlish speculation. One of my favourite conversations concerned one of the obscenely good looking young barmen at the Slug and Lettuce, toward whom I traditionally begin the evening with polite respect and end with somewhat salivating flirtation:

The young man in question was collecting glasses at an adjacent table towards the end of the night as I turned and glanced toward him, then double-took.

I turned swiftly to Sally with what, in hindsight, I hope was a hushed whisper.

"Would you look at his arse? How can it be so simultaneously plump and yet tight?"

Sally rolled her eyes, grinning, and checked him out. She frowned as she stared.

"Yes," she answered thoughtfully, "I see what you mean. It's lovely."

We gazed in the same direction for a moment in silence.

"I think he's on the other bus," she declared, with a soft smile to me.

"Hmmmm," I replied, not shifting my stare.

A minute or so passed in silence before I met Sally's eyes again and asked with intensity, "Do you think that means he would mind if I asked to touch his bum?"

Sally nodded, thinking it through.

"No," she answered finally, "Definitely not. I mean, it's a compliment, isn't it?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONE,
THE ONLY,
THE TRULY GORGEOUS,
XXX SALLY JONES XXX

Back in the days when I made my home in the marrow of your bones

I found this picture by Naomi Skarsinski and urge you to spend some time with her work, at once...

I've had a beautiful friendship couple of days, the sweet touch of serendipity into my life. I spent the evening in the Kings Tavern last night, after bumping into Southsea's own charismatic Lothario, DC, whilst I was smoking in the street reading Barack Obama's 'The Audacity of Hope'. He was with his friend J and they invited me to the pub. I invited Lynda and James and James invited Vinnie. We just happened to bump into Gareth, then Steve and then a handful of other people in the pub. We smoked in the garden while I drank a little too much wine and talked a little too much politics, walked home with Lynda and fell onto the couch and into unconsciousness.

Lynda stayed at mine and we went for a long breakfast, the morning papers, some more politics and some serious munchies. We took a long walk along the seafront and had a gently flowing, rambling conversation about life, the Universe and everything (including a bit more politics). It turns out Paul was right, and the greatest of these is love.

I dropped Lynda off at the Peace Cafe, bumped into the infinitely knowledgable, almost qualifies as cheating if you have him on your team in a pub quiz, Steve Hyde, and left Lynda to book herself a slot with the sparklingly magical Pixie herself, Sue George (book your slot at the cafe on 9283 0544 for her next appearance in March), had a quick chat with her gorgeous starman of a husband, Dixie, and headed off to the office for a few hours work.

I spent the evening eating pizza with Pixie and Dixie and giggling in delight with the beautiful GJ, who's on a flying stop over from Spain. All in all, priceless. I sigh contentedly and leave you with this.

I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you

I love this picture, check out Pucky Learns to Fly on Flickr

Had a couple of glasses of whiskey last night, after a few glasses of wine and ended up staying up til the early hours with my friend, talking about life, love and our fragile, thirsty hearts. It's been ages since I stayed up til 4am or later. I'm blaming the whiskey, but I liked it. I've decided that tomorrow I'm going to buy myself a bottle. Of course, I know nothing of whiskey, so know nothing of which breed to buy. I wonder if I can persuade Waitrose to do me a series of tasters.

In my afternoon of recovery, I managed to watch most of series 2 of The West Wing. Is it me, or is Sam unbearably cute and does every girl like me (make of that idea what you will) want to grow up to be CJ Craig?

In other news, my cat has a personality disorder, which makes us the most officially suited couple of cats in Southsea.

Start Wearing Purple

Image by Djuna Barnes, make sure you check out her art and poetry here

After the excitement of a friend's birthday last night and a three way textathon that went well into the early hours of this morning (the crucial word for avoiding misunderstanding in that sentence is textathon), I was somewhat relieved when, at 10.30 this morning my 11 o'clock apppointment was postponed til midday. Particularly as I had not long been awake.

To celebrate my surprise hour of free time, I head to the Greenhouse Kitchen, my new local haunt. I love this place. It's a good size, the upstairs is always flooded with light (and in the mornings often completely abandoned, but for me) and the food and staff are fab. In addition, for a girl who has just discovered that her portfolio career is based on a mobile office (I love the novelty of unfamiliar jargon), there is a free wifi connection that the owners are happy for you to use for hours on end, providing you allow them to refresh your coffee every so often. Bliss.

On arrival today, I pass the time of day with the co-owner, before heading upstairs.

"There's one table left up there," he says, smiling," Have you heard of the Red Hats?"

I stare at him, polite smile on my face, assuming I've misheard.

"Sorry? The what-hats?"

"The Red Hats?" I shake my head. "They're through the back," he grins, "Sneak through and have a look!"

So I do.

In the back room, approximately 20 women of middle age or more are sat in a circle, talking and laughing at full volume. The energy in the room immediately makes me smile. I have a theory that a group of women (do women have a collective noun? Do men?! Should we invent them if not, or even so?) who are well and positively bonded can achieve just about anything due to this magical energy they exude. Just a theory, but the Red Hats have this energy in full amounts.

And have I mentioned that they are wearing purple dresses or trouser suits, and all of them are crowned with a different flamboyant red hat? I kid you not.

A quick Google search reveals that the Red Hat Society was started in 1998 in the USA and was partly inspired by the poem by Jenny Joseph, '"When I am Old." The members are women aged over 50 who regularly meet for tea and frivolity, and wear, you've guessed it, purple outfits with red hats. I find myself urging the years to pass so that I can join them. In fact, I catch myself imagining a Junior Red Hats Society for younger women who also want to defy society's expectations in the interests of having fun. Women are great.

When I take my seat, they are trying to work our who in the group has paid their subscriptions twice. Everyone is cooing loudly with their neighbours or across the table. Purses are being checked and amounts being calculated.

"Ooooh! It's me!" Comes a voice, from a lady looking bashful. A loud hoot of collective joy ensues. It turns out the woman who has overpaid is the treasurer.

"Well, it's lucky we found out," says another, "She needs the money now she's retired!"

Another wave of laughter sweeps the room. I cannot help but start giggling myself, attracting a couple of winks and smiles.

Needless to say, I'm so taken with them, I don't get around to reading my paper.

The coldest story ever told

Well, apart from the story of my bedroom, obviously, and you can read that as you will...

It has been almost a week, how can this be. Worse still, I'm officially 'working' right now so can't spend any time here anyway, but thought it was particularly important to share what I consider to be the best casual use of a cartoon cigarette in a music video - To Date. You might think there's a lack of competition in this category (and the NME awards certainly did this year when I suggested it to them, along with my other suggested categories, Best Use of a Padded Bra by a Pre-Adolescent Popster in 2008 (Eoghan Quigg) and Best Smouldering Eyes on a Male Vocalist Ever (Caleb Followill)).

Anyhoo. Enjoy. Watch out for the smoke, dog.


Heartless - Kanye West

If you don't watch it you'll miss the dancing Garfield

I took this on my phone yesterday morning, walking back from an 8.30AM!!! interview at Gunwharf.
The world felt, looked and smelled (no, not smelled, in this part of the city it smells like a brothel's laundry) like an inspiring, welcoming and beautiful place and I wanted to catch it on my phone.

Alright Anonymous, you smart arse bugger - who are you? The intrigue is killing me! Alternatively, it could be like a magic trick and finding out will ruin the art, in which case, stay in the shadows my friend.... I was delighted with your happy facts about Stranger in A Stranger Land, and yes, I was referring to the novel, of which yesterday's illustration was used for the cover in days of yore. I would also have been impressed with anyone pointing out that James Warhola is Andy Warhol's nephew.......

What with the snow and all it's been a funny old week. By tomorrow night I'll have done four interviews and written five articles in the space of three days, which is a record, even for me. But I have met some ace people, each with their own way of inspiring, and each with their own particular passion. I'd love to tell you more but obviously, you'll have to wait for the magazine to come out and read all about it yourself.

It suddenly occurred to me last night that I've got my first paid gig as a proper feature writer and I haven't even celebrated yet! So, I've decided to save it until they're published and then have a little party at mine to celebrate. And you're all invited. Terms and conditions apply*



*If you don't know where I live or where to find me at 3pm on a Wednesday, you can't come. You've got until publication date to find out one or the other.......