Sex, lies, and videotape

Right back atcha Andrew!

It's Saturday night and I have just spent the evening with Andrew Lincoln. He starred in Afterlife; it was the last in the series tonight and it's been pretty good apart from the lack of nudity on Andrew's part. Maybe I could make that a suggestion for series 2 if there is one? I find it perfectly impossible to understand his relationship to Lesley Sharpe's character without seeing Andrew's arse. And that's the truth. Why is that guy so cute? There's something really sexy and vulnerable about him. Definitely worth a boink!

Boyf is currently at a poker party, getting sloshed. At least the premise of the party was to play poker, for his best friend Butthead's birthday (which was last week.) He left for the party at two o'clock today. I spoke to him about twenty minutes ago and they were just getting the cards out. The lure of the pub was just too much for them to bear. Also throwing a bash tonight is my entire family, for Halloween. There are two reasons I'm not there, and they're both great big dickheads. Yes, the Grinch and Judas are both in attendance. There have been some developments in that area, with my sister having a bit of a realisation that Christmas this year will SUCK ASS because her husband is a prick. Grinch offered to "have a word" with my boyfriend to try and sort things out so that everybody could go to the party and play happy families and I could just develop amnesia and forget all the things that have been said. But when my mum told my sis that I probably wouldn't piss on Grinch if he was on fire... I mean, want to go to the party, sis decided it wasn't worth Grinch going to the effort of "having a word." My sister is deluding herself at the moment. She had a merry conversation with me about all of us going shopping in Manchester, and Grinch could drive us there. I made my excuses as subtly as possible: oh, I'll just need a whole day! I'm going to go when I've got my next day off - in five weeks. With him?! Are you fucking serious? I'd rather prise out my own eyeball with a spoon. (Ummm... that last one was just in my head.)

And breathe. On a lighter note, Most Haunted Live is on this weekend, for a Halloween special, but we watched some of it last night and it was complete pants. They just filmed themselves waiting for a lift for about five minutes, awkwardly trying to make conversation and sound interested in the fact that they were waiting for a lift. We only watched it because there was an expose in the paper from Ciaran O'Keefe (the shows acting parapsychologist and sceptic extraordinaire) saying how he had made up names of "ghosts" and fed them to Derek Acorah, the shows medium (pictured; Joey from Bread is obviously a big influence), and how the names were anagrams of DEREK LIES and DEREK FAKER. Sure enough, poor old Degsy was possessed by said spirits. So we thought, oooh, we'll watch it and see if they deny it and what will they say about Ciaran and will Derek even be there?! But we watched it and they were all there, even Mr. O'Keefe, and made no mention of it whatsoever, as if nothing had happened. The only entertainment we had was trying to decide if Yvette Fielding has had collagen injections. She was looking a bit Leslie Ash if you ask me.

Lost in Translation

People, I am so utterly fried. I am still stuck in work. If it wasn't for P.Diddy I don't think I could have made it this far - I'd have ripped off my Staff badge and gone skipping and screaming into the night. Working with Foot Perv is like being on a seesaw of awkwardness and morbid fascination. Even when the poor bloke says something normal, it's a shock coming from his mouth. It's like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs.*

Oooh, Dave has smuggled an mp3 player in. Lucky bastard.

So I got on my usual bus today that I ride every single day to work and sat there for like an hour or however long it takes to get 15 minutes away from my workplace. Then the bus stops and everyone gets off but me. I just sat there, until the bus driver leans over and tells me it's the last stop. What? Since when? So I had to leg it to work. Maybe he just saw there was only one person and thought 'fuck it'?

In exactly 12 hours time (God willing) I'll be on that bus again on the way here. How depressing. I'll just have time to get home, wash my hair, straighten my hair, iron my trousers and make my lunch. Guillermo however, is having a whale of a time cavorting around from one social event to another this evening. Jealous!

I'll leave you with a conversation I had with an international student earlier when I asked him very nicely to repeat something I'd missed:

Him: Are you foreign?
Me: No
Him: Then why do you have a problem understanding English?

Charmed, I'm sure!

*Yes, I'm stealing from Mean Girls.

Drama

So far this week, a student went into a diabetic fit at work and an ambulance was called, a dead body was found underneath the flyover, and there has been a train derailment (in which, very luckily, noone was killed.) Also, one of the cleaners was standing at the end of the library counter talking very loudly on the phone to her husband, sounding very much like she was accusing him of having an affair. What gives me this impression chiefly is that she yelled "Well why don't you want sex anymore?!" All a bit too Eastenders for my liking.

Tonight after a long, boring day at work, I filled out some more job applications. One of them I totally want, the other is a bit dodgy as it involves interviewing violent and/or psychotic criminals. Plus you have to do roleplay in the interview, which would only be okay if I got to play the psycho (terminology I should probably avoid if I want the job :P) Caught bits of TV including Jamie Oliver getting his Special Recognition from the National TV Awards, and good on him too! His dad was there and announced the award, he looked dead chuffed and proud, it brought a tear to my eye! His Fifteen and School Dinners projects are very admirable, and I saw one of his new shows where he drives to Sicily in a camper van and it was cool :) Also watched Lost, and it turns out that Shannon and Boone got jiggy with it in Australia, quelle surprise.

Tomorrow I'm covering Rarebit's late shift, hence the late night post. The dude totally scammed me to do his late and then took the rest of the week off sick, but at least he owes me one. This means that I have to work with the Foot Perv... I never thought I'd regret not owning Doc Martens.

A Kings Ransom

The Olive Press was last night the scene of unrestrained debauchery. It pains and humiliates me to confess something that will provoke disgust and outrage in you, gentle reader. Last night, after entering the restaurant and tottering down a small flight of stairs in my very high heels, we were told we had to wait for our table so headed to the bar, where we ordered a pint and a double Baileys... the pint cost £3.50, which is a rip off but we are prepared to deal with that as it's the norm to be ripped off in most places we go. But the Baileys... the Baileys... oh the Horror! NINE POUNDS!!! Have you seen how little liquid you get in a double Baileys? The glass is most definitely half empty! Moreover, for NINE POUNDS (FOR A DRINK!!) you can almost buy a bottle of the stuff. Let me just put this into sharper context. Before 7 o'clock in said restaurant, they do a £10 meal deal, which offers 2 courses and a glass of wine! There was a group of women next to us when we handed over our hard earned cash with faces agog, who sympathetically advised: "you'd better enjoy that drink!" "Fucking hell," Boyf complained, "Let me have a taste!" The rest of the night is a complete blank. I have never quite recovered!

That'll be £95 and your first born son please.

Oh okay, it's not a complete blank, but seriously that totally put me off the place and I didn't enjoy the rest of the experience at all, even though it was quite decent. I didn't like the food I ordered, but thems the brakes sometimes, the starter was scrummy, and it was nice to go someplace new. I won't be going back though, that's for sure!

We had a 9:30 table so we hit the Tapas bar before we traipsed over to The Money... I mean Olive Press, and had some yummy sangria. The bar was packed and we had a good laugh trying to fit as many Elvis related words and sayings into our conversations - childish but effective, just add alcohol. Sample Quote: "Can you hold this for me please? ...Thank you very much." We forgot to take a watch so kept having to ask people the time or try and spy a look at their wrists. We were next to a group of Cockneys, and when one of them laughed it honestly sounded like he was sobbing his heart out. They told us they'd been waiting for a table since Tuesday. Better to wait than pay NINE POUNDS FOR ONE DRINK I say! Sorry, I'll get over it when I get a job with a bigger salary, company car, and perhaps twelve underlings. Can I just say we used to think the Tapas bar was expensive and the round there costs half the price than the one at Satan's Rip-Off Dump? Like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter. I think I'm traumatised. I'll probably have to drink solely in Wetherspoons (cheapy cheapy cheap cheap - and, according to the website, award winning loos!) for a bit until I recover.

Don't step on my blue suede shoes, bitch!

Anyway, after leaving The Restaurant That Shall Not Be Named, we hovered in the doorway for a bit deciding whether to get soaked in the rain or try and hail a cab. A passing cab, it's orange light answering our dilemma, wrapped up all such discussion and we got in. Then regretted it. Taxi man just rabbited on at us for the entire journey, and after hearing with satisfactory revulsion our tale of the £9 Baileys, suggested that I frequent an area well known for prostitution to earn the money back. When Boyf protested, taxi man argued that I didn't even know what that meant. I must look innocent or something. All in all, a bit of a mixed bag as nights out go.

Oh, and also, when we passed Havana, everyone was standing around the TV watching X Factor :P So I just about know that Journey South made it through as they were on when we passed. Because of my week in France I missed out on a bit of X Factor and haven't really kept up with it as I should have, but I'd like to say how gutted I am that little Trevor and James didn't get through. Trevor made me cry when he said that he thought he'd just be stacking shelves for the rest of his life. The poor mite is only 16. On a more worrying note, I think Chico is actually starting to grow on me (like a fungus?) At least he doesn't come on singing boring ballads every week. I just wish he'd stop telling everyone it was "Chico time!"

You know, in the olden days, they used to Press people to death with big stones for committing certain crimes... don't think there were any Olives involved though. And very little Baileys.

Living for the Weekend

Wooo hoooo! It's Saturday. I cannot explain my joy at reaching Saturday - it's only eclipsed by my dread at reaching Sunday night! Seriously, my job isn't that bad, so why do I hate it so much? Weird. Anyway, I've been applying for others. I only found out about two of them at the last minute so my supporting statements aren't that good - in one of them I just copied and pasted a load of stuff from past supporting statements and ended up with a 4 page essay about why they should hire me :P I think it may be information overload, but it was all I had time to do and you've gotta be in it to win it! Got a couple of applications through the post today, one is for a research job I really want and another is for a ridiculously well paid job a step up from what I'm doing, but I don't reckon I'll get it as I've only been in this job 3 months.

So, I'm off out on the town tonight with my Boo. We have loosely planned a scrumptious meal somewhere and a few Baileys, maybe a bit of dancing. I think we might try The Olive Press. I did want to try Il Forno (right) but Elspeth from work is going there so I'll avoid it for now! It looks gorgeous though. There are so many new restaurants springing up around the place at the mo'; another one I want to try is the Alma De Cuba (left) - it's in the former St. Peter's church and we were thinking of going there for the works Christmas night out until we settled on The Living Room. It looks very grand! Mmmm, all this talk is making me hungry!

Now for the age old question: What to wear? I'm off to pamper myself with a sojourn in the bath and mull it over.

My Boy Lollipop

I just survived two and a half hours on the computer helpdesk with minimal knowledge of computers. Basically, I was an usher, referring people to the other computer assistant and selling them snacks and beverages... oh okay, discs and print credits. I nearly died when I saw it on the timetable, but it actually made the time pass really quickly. This morning I woke up like a bear with a sore head. I hate dark mornings.

EDIT: Chicken Stu, the bloke in charge of the comp desk, nipped out for a ciggy and bought me a drumstick lollipop for my hard work! (I hope I'm still getting paid :P) I'm quite touched! :) Also noticed that I'm back on the comp desk tomorrow though - bracing myself.

In other news, CONGRATS go out to Guillermo, who is now a published author!

Must go clock back in and leave my life at the door! I'll leave you with these memorable quotes:

Weezer, on the result of dyeing her hair brown: "Oh well, it's Halloween soon."

P.Diddy (a colleague), on Mein Kampf: "Do you know what happens? The small man with the black moustache did it."

Boyf, to a man in his fifties getting out of a suped-up car blasting rave music: "Mid-life crisis mate?"

Celebs I'd love to have a pint with... vol. 1

Tess Daly & Vernon Kay

Wouldn't you just love to hang out with these guys? They're like the perfect couple. Vernon would be a right laugh and Tess seems really down to Earth, despite being unfathomably lucky on the genetic front. Vernon has starred in some crap telly shows in his time of course. One that strikes me most firmly is that Saturday night show he presented with has-been singers and acts attempting a comeback. I remember listening to Vernon's Radio One show on a drive back from Wales after he had interviewed Haddaway (remember him? no? he sang What is Love (oh baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more) back in 1990-something.) He asked Hadda (for short) how he kept in such good shape and Hadda's reply was to very sleazily drawl: "Lots of sex." Vernon took the piss out of him. I also think their wedding looked fab (they got married in Vernon's home town near Bolton and their wedding car was a camper van) and their baby pics are very classy. They've gradually worked their way up in the industry too, with Tess appearing in The Beloved's Sweet Harmony video where everybody's naked, and Vernon starring in some TV show that followed models around (he being a male model, not in a pervy sense.) Tess is gorgeous enough to be forgiven for being Bruce Forsythe's TV wife on Strictly Come Dancing, or whatever that cheesefest show is. I know it's popular but come on! She was brilliant with Brian Dowling on SM:TV though. And in a magazine interview she said she wanted to move to the country and bake cakes, which rocks! Thumbs up for Tess & Vernon I say!

Travel Log, Episode Three: Back to the Future Anterior

This concluding part has been a long while coming, but that’s mainly because I didn’t get any more time to jot anything down while I was there, so this is the condensed version from memory. I mainly just want to include it for myself so that I can look back and remember, that’s basically the point of my entire blog really. So here it is, part three:

Where was I? Ah yes, Toulouse. Toulouse is big and busy and easy to get lost in. Boyf didn’t like it at all. We took some photographs at Pont Neuf and strolled back through the city towards the car. I almost had a bit of a Marilyn moment over a large grid in front of a crowded café. Back in the horrible car park, we were accosted by scary tramp man. We left in our car quickly. On the way out of Toulouse, a lunatic driver smashed into a parked Mercedes and then almost reversed into us. Boyf - who is very prone to road rage - was surprisingly calm. He was glad to see the back of the place, but I’m glad we visited it and there were some pretty sights to take in there.


The next day we went to Albi, primarily for the flea market that we never found (perhaps it was a literal flea market and they were shopping for new dogs to inhabit or carrying bags of groceries, too tiny for us to see? Don't look at me like that.) The Cloisters at Albi are really pretty and we preferred it to Toulouse, even though the church, known as God’s Aircraft Carrier, is quite ugly - some of the interior looks a bit 60’s to me. Anyway it was meant to look ugly apparently, to scare people into being pious. Good old religion eh? We dined at this little cabin thing by the river, which was crap and took FOR EVER. We then zoomed back to the villa and had a dip in the pool to cool down. We’d done the same the day before - the weather got really hot and sticky in the last week.

After washing my hair in cold water (the hot water would run out really quick) we decided to go out for dinner and got our glad rags on. It was still boiling hot so I wore my long white skirt and a pink silk top. We drove into one of the local villages (past Fabi Dog, a superbly named dog salon) and found a hotel with a lovely outside eating area and sat next to the fountain. We ordered our steak well done and the chef ran it through a lukewarm room. The French do not like cooking things well done and have their steak bloody, which makes me retch. I tried to eat some but it’s all chewy and fleshy. I feel sick thinking about it. The starters and pudding were nice, but we went home hungry, deciding to stop ordering steak in French restaurants. On our way home we drove through the gorgeous sunflower fields that surround the place we’re staying. Beautiful! They look so sunny and happy.

The next day we had a chilled day by the pool. We also went and stocked up on supplies and checked out another nearby village that the guys thought might be a good fishing spot. Then we went for a walk and took that photo of me trying to push the hay bale Guillermo :P

The day after a couple of us went back to Albi. We bought scrumptious ice creams and ate them sitting in the Cloisters. It started to drizzle (despite still being really warm) so we went and visited the Henri Toulouse-Lautrec museum. My shoes squeaked really loudly on the new floors in the lower part of the building. It had undergone fairly recent restoration; the upper floors were all creaky and uneven but old and more fitting. I bought postcards. Boyf was going to fish while we were there too, having drooled over the giant catfish on our previous visit, but wasn’t sure if it was allowed and didn’t fancy having to explain himself to the authorities in French. A sweet old French couple carrying a big ancient camera with a huge flash offered to take a picture of us on my digital camera as we left the museum, but the woman had no idea how to work it and we eventually just pretended that it had worked and thanked them very warmly. They were nice. So since we were being all cultured like, we stopped at a couple of wine places and brocantes on the way back to the villa and my boyfriend was delighted to find this self service wine pump:

Tres classy! We decided against buying any. When we got back it looked like it was going to storm so we went kite flying. Duh. Boyf then got the kite stuck on the roof. Overall, not a very clever afternoon.

The next day, after obligatory pool time, I accompanied my boyfriend to the bank of the River Tarn. I read Christina Crawford’s Mommy Dearest and he caught three fish, had his photo taken with them and then threw them back to swim another day. We also played spot the noisy frog:

Then came our last full day in France. After the boyfriend’s triumphant day fishing, The Men wanted to go back to the River, so we girls went too and sunbathed. Then we went for a wander in the sunflower fields and had our last dip in the pool, which ended in catastrophe when a dead rat was discovered and everybody scattered. I know. It just mars the entire thing doesn’t it really? Our little idyll just completely lost its innocence in that moment. It was very definitely time to go home.

Now this is out of sequence as I’ve only had the photographs to go on since I stopped making notes, but at some point amongst all this Boyf got stung on the hand by a wasp while using the outside shower, and we spent two nights watching fantastic electric storms, which we also caught on video. We played lots of Trivial Pursuit, ate loads of pistachios and drank lots of red wine. The storms were amazing and among my best memories.

In the morning we were up early for our drive to Le Havre. At this moment you need to conjure up the sounds of Chris Rea’s The Road to Hell should you want to imagine any part of this ten hour car journey. Curiously enough, we videoed quite a lot of it, well about five minutes which is a long time to be looking at road on a TV screen. Blur, George Michael, and Queen can be heard from the CD player, but you should still be hearing Chris Rea. I spent the ten hours with a map spread across my knee, and at one point my face when trying to turn it over. There was some light relief when we stopped for a pee break (ho hum.) I told my travelling companion we should probably dig out some toilet paper from our luggage before we went. She went ahead of me and I followed her over, going into the stall next to hers, where I pronounced the words: “Oh My God, are you having a laugh?!” and she broke into fits of giggles, having been awaiting my reaction. The loo was literally just a hole in the floor with two ridged bits for you to stand in and, well, squat. “Have you been?” I asked. To which she replied that she had. “How?” I wondered, so she came in and demonstrated her technique. I was worried they wouldn’t have any loo roll, they haven’t even got any loo’s! WTF? So elegant. When we FINALLY! got to Le Havre, we checked into our hotel and went looking for somewhere to eat. We eventually found a pizzeria with very expensive beer. Then we went back to our room, had a nightcap and settled down for some much needed sleep.

The following day we got up early (again!), had breakfast and boarded the ferry. When we got there we decided to use what was left of our cash to go Club Class and paid for a cabin. The guy at the reception desk was just like Marjorie Dawes from Fat Fighters, played by Matt Lucas in Little Britain. Boyf asked what came with the room, but the guy got distracted so I said “Dust!” This became our catchphrase for about the next six weeks. Apologies to all who know us. In our cabin we were excited to find dressing gowns, but decided that Brittany Ferries are much better than P&O cos you get a mini fridge :P Boyf immediately donned a robe and I used one of my scarves to fashion a cravat for him, which we found very amusing in our own little way. In the Club Class lounge we could have one glass of complimentary champagne each, and more tea, coffee, and shortbread than you could shake a stick at! The journey went much faster, and we were suddenly in England again, listening to Live 8 on the radio. And that’s where the story picked up again…

Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen

Just time to wish my other niece a Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday Tink!

Yes, it's been an expensive month for me!

Happy 18th Birthday Pebbles!

My niece is 18 years old today! Happy Birthday babe!

Learning to Juggle

How do people manage to have full time jobs and lives of their own? I mean, really, it's my niece Pebbles' 18th birthday on Friday, and I haven't shopped. I'm going away Saturday morning, and I haven't shopped. Nor will I start packing until Thursday night (maybe), I have two jobs to apply for tonight, plus it's my other niece's 16th birthday next week, and I haven't shopped (I need to get her present before I leave for France.) Plus I discovered, thanks only to a chance conversation with Potter, that it's my responsibility to find someone to cover my late night next week because I'm off. Which sucks because you basically have to ask for a favour every time you want time off. Am debating whether to inflict the Foot Fetish Perv on Potter. Oh, and I have to squeeze some time with my Snuggle Bunny in before I say au revoir for a whole week.

What do teenage girls like these days? I mean, apart from tequila and excessive dieting? Jewellery is always a good idea on big birthdays, but I have such different taste from Pebbles. Also we have the problem of The Event. Me and mine are currently at war with my sister's husband, otherwise known as The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. As plans currently stand, we may be going for an Italian, which should be fine because Grinch doesn't like Italian food. And if he does come, I could always sprinkle his carbonara with arsenic? Oops. You didn't hear that!

Had a funny moment with Foot Perv recently actually. I was helping some girl with the photocopier and he came to take over since it was my break, but she was photocopying pictures of men's bits - purely for medical purposes I understand. When Toes lifted up the page he was like "Oh!" and made all funny embarrassed noises in his throat. His face was a picture! I wonder if he was thinking "Why doesn't mine look like that?!"*

A horrible man came in yesterday and was really rude and aggressive to the lovely Hoggle. He was so obnoxious I wanted to slap him, and you really couldn't find a nicer person than Hoggle, so I really hope something Karmic, and preferably with very big teeth, bites him in the ass.

By the way, sorry MJ, I totally meant to post this link days ago (don't click on it when your boss is making the rounds... unless he's a W&G fan.)

*Speculation, for humorous purposes only and not intending to suggest that I have any actual knowledge of the state of Foot Perv's wanger.

Chase me, chase me!

Tagged by Wondy.

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

My sentence is rubbish! "And she made the staple diet joke, perfectly unconcerned."

No fair, I was so close to having an excuse to post a pic of Jeremy Edwards in the shower! Ah, screw it.

My 22nd post has for it's fifth line: "Well, maybe if Jeremy Edwards walked into my room looking like he does on my desktop (for the ladies) I'd Save as Draft."

Now that's a sight for sore eyes! Look at those shoulders! You know, I didn't even fancy Jezzy when he was on Hollyoaks, and I must have been in my early teens, around the time you fancy anything that moves/has good hair. He has definitely improved with age. Or maybe I just never saw him in the shower before? HOT. I'm good to you aren't I?

I tag anyone who feels like playing. MJ, I know you'll want to play but I don't know if you have 23 posts?!

Screwed

Boyf and I have been attempting a romantic week-long break in France for a while now. We agreed the date as 8th October and set about arranging our busy schedules around it. I booked the time off work, planned to shop in advance (didn't work, not sure what I'll be wearing now), and as of yesterday the ferry is booked and we have 2 possible cottages awaiting our arrival (still to be decided.) All sounds pretty sorted apart from the fact that I now have to go without him, because his stupid boss won't give him next week off. In fact, to add insult to injury he is sending him to work away next week and offered him this week off. He does this on purpose; he's such a hater. So I'm off to France as a third wheel. Whatever, it's better than cancelling the time off.

Last week Potter and I were discussing The Turn of the Screw. He asked me if I'd read it and then we both expressed how long it takes to read, despite being a really short novel. It's not even like the language is archaic or difficult; I think it's the syntax he uses, but for whatever reason, it just takes a long time to process. I had to read it in a few days for uni so I probably missed all kinds of significant bits, as it's something you need to take your time over. I remember the boyfriend was scared of the cover and used to make me hide it of a night, which reminds me of Friends when Joey kept The Shining in the freezer (and when I accidentally tore an arm off a teddybear when I was younger and hid it in the wardrobe.) I wish I had more time for reading. There are so many books I haven't read yet and so many that are crying out for a re-reading. Maybe I'll take a book to France to keep me warm since I'll be flying solo.

In other news, Potter attended a fondue party last night. Who knew the 70's were back?

From Henry James to the X Factor. We watched it last night, being the crazy kids we are. We so need to get a life! It was Saturday night for goodness sake! It can be pretty funny but I don't know if it will ever top the high point of the series so far, which has been the two Welsh girls that were on it a few weeks ago. They made me laugh out loud. Simon (of the Cowell) told one of them (go on, guess!) that she looked like Vicky Pollard. When they were interviewed afterwards, she was pretty angry and complained that Simon had no room to talk, since "he's not all that", to which her friend nonchalantly replied, to my complete amazement, "Oh I dunno, I'd still do him like!" Class.

Quote of the week: "I can't remember the last time I rubbed my eyes." Lila, on wearing mascara.

The One

Recently I had a conversation with someone about life's funny coincidences. We all have our own experiences of them, little twists of fate that seem perfectly random yet they reunite us with old friends or drop an opportunity into our laps. One of the first movies I went to see on a date was Sliding Doors. I really liked the concept of the movie, that just by missing a train the course of our whole lives could change. It can be a bit scary too if you think about the implications of every decision we ever make. For example, seeing that film inspired my friend Li to copy Gwyneth's hairstyle, and she looked fab. But if I had made the same decision? Now that would have been SCARY.

One of the most bizarre coincidences that ever happened to me was when I was 17. Years before, I'd picked up an old astrology book at a second hand book fair. It was full of all kinds of things, about mapping your birth chart (the position of the planets when you were born), numerology, handwriting analysis etc. The numerology section used your name and birthdate to give you an insight into your character and the possibilities for your future. Now, it's not that I'm a great believer in this sort of thing but I try to keep an open mind and mostly I just think it's a bit of fun. Ultimately, I think we all control (to a certain extent) who we are and where we're going. Anyway, a few weeks after I met the love of my life I came across the book again tucked away in a storage crate at the back of my wardrobe. I told my boyfriend about the fun, silly nights I'd had with my friends trying out all the different things in there and he asked me to tell him his future. The easiest thing to do was the numerology of his name and birthdate, so I turned to that section and got out a pen and paper. Then I noticed something and could not believe what I saw. There was no need for me to work out the numerology of my boyfriend's name. It was already in the book as the example they used to show you how to do it. My boyfriend didn't believe me and thought I was playing a trick on him at first. It's not like he has the most unusual of names, but I still think it's kind of funny that even though I didn't know it at the time, an astrology book I picked up second hand told me the name of my first love.