Wednesday 28 November 2012

Great Lunchon Ambitions

It's not often I do something wildly spontaneous. Even though I like to think I'm a hip(ish), free and easy, laid back 20-something, the honest truth is that I'm actually quite an organised individual. I like to know plans in advance, I enjoy looking ahead and making plans. Leafing though my diary at the end of the day to see what exciting, planned, events are penned in for the following week is very satisfying.

Honestly, I don't feel ashamed about this and actually enjoy it, but every now and then I surprise myself by doing something a bit out of the blue. Usually it turns out to be a hell of a lot of fun and reminds me that, actually, I am still in my twenties despite my enjoyment of listening to Classic FM and turning in for an early night.

Sometimes it's nice to say, "Fuck it. Lets do that!"

This week included one of those impulsive moments when the boyfriend and I decided to go to Edinburgh. Just for lunch.

Arranging to meet at Kings Cross station at 8:30am (the only actual plan we made all day), we then looked at the departure board to see where we could head. York was an option, neither of us had been there for years and there would be lots of historical, parent-y type attractions we could see. Unfortunately, after a quick look on the old smart phone, it was set to rain there all day and parts had been hit by flooding.

Looking at each other, we thought, well if it's north we're headed where's the most north we can go from here? Scotland. Yes! Hell, lets do it! We should have just enough time to have lunch before turning around and making it back to London at a decent time. And while we're at it, lets travel first class too. Well, if you're going to be on a train for four and a half hours, you may as well do it in comfort.

Today was set to be full of life-firsts for me. I'd never been to Edinburgh - or Scotland for that fact - , I'd never seen the North Sea, which you get to do on this journey, as well as The Angel Of The North when you pass through Newcastle. I'd never had a complimentary hot meal on a train before, which you get when travelling first class on a train all that way, as well as free alcohol after 11am (don't worry, I behaved). How splendid all of this was turning out to be.

As the journey progressed it became very apparent that it was set to be wet and rainy throughout the UK. Watching the news the day before, we were aware that much of the Midlands and Northern part of the UK were under water and flood warnings were in place. Never did we imagine quite how bad it would be though!

Passing through the British countryside we saw the extent of the flooding. Whole series of fields were totally submerged under water and the rain still fell as rivers continued to swell and burst their banks. It was bad, but so exciting! I've never seen a spectacle quite like it. Even part of the train track started to flood, meaning we had to slow right down to get through it causing our train to be 20 minutes late - it was to be a whole lot worse on the way home, but I'll get to that later.

Chugging our way through Northern England and into Scotland, it really was a beautiful journey. Even though I've lived in the UK for 26 years, I don't think I've ever seen so much of the country as on that journey, as I said before there were a lot of landmarks we passed that until then had been nothing more than images on the TV. I was excited, possibly because of the amount of free coffee I'd consumed, but also because this day of chance and random decision making was turning out to be quite the adventure!

Pulling into Edinburgh, I don't think I've ever arrived in a city with such instant impact. There's a fucking cliff, that looks like a small mountain, with a chuffing castle on top of it, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY!! I know this is common knowledge, that Edinburgh Castle is there, but fuck me, it's damn impressive. I just love how they've built a city around a cliff. With a castle. That's hardcore. I challenge you to suggest an English city that has quite the same natural landscape impact as that. I was impressed.

I was also impressed that we'd travelled through rain all the way to Scotland, but there wasn't a drop of drizzle in Edinburgh. The streets were bone dry, which made my need for wearing wellies quite redundant, which I'd donned because England was wet. That should hopefully silence those that say, "It always rains in Scotland." Well on this day, it was raining everywhere but. What a stroke of luck.

There had been rumblings on the train that the weather was getting worse around Darlington and York and that trains were being cancelled and delayed up to an hour and half due to flooding. We were the last ride to make it through more or less on time. Uh oh. This could be a very short visit indeed.

Checking in with the information desk, they advised us to get on the next train asap (but we'd only just arrived) lest we get stuck in bonny Scotland. Taking note of the return train times, the chap and I agreed we'd go for lunch then make our journey back to be on the safe side.

There's not much I can say about our actual time in Edinburgh. It was so brief.

We took a quick stroll around the castle and it's gardens and headed to a pub called The Red Squirrel for lunch. They did amazing burgers. Finishing up, paying the bill, we headed back at a brisk pace to the station. There was just enough time to send a postcard to the parents to gloat about my extravagant day trip.

In total I think we spent about an hour and a half in Edinburgh. Literally, we went for lunch. All the way to Scotland for a burger. Now that's impulsive!

Making it onto the 4pm train, we then spent eight hours crawling our way back to Kings Cross. Sadly it was dark by that time, so I couldn't see the extent of the flooding after a whole day's rain south of the Scottish boarder. Still, it was all very, very exciting not knowing if we were going to make it, slowly edging through flooded bits of track, seeing train managers hurrying through on their phones trying to sort it out and get us through the worst effected areas.

Arriving in London at midnight, we were grateful to have made it back and even though it was a long journey, it was at least a comfortable one *cough*First Class*cough*. Yes, I am feeling smug.

Throwing the diary schedule out of the window proved to provide me with one of the most exciting days of adventure I've experienced in ages. It's too easy to become bogged down with work, thinking about budgeting for trips like this, circling around the same little area of city or town that you live in. I'm not saying it's simple to go out and do things like this all that often, but fuck it, heading off on a last minute adventure now and then is essential to remind you that there's more out there and it is possible to escape the daily grind.

I was about to type, 'I'm already looking forward to the next one,' but then I suppose that totally defeats the point...

  

Wednesday 31 October 2012

This week's Zoo magazine. Worth checking out.

So, it seems I'm possibly, slowly and in small steps, moving into the world of the men's magazine articles. Exciting, eh? This week I have a small snippet in Zoo's 'Boobipedia' issue.


Apparently I am a bra removal expert. Well, I do take one off every day, so I guess that yes, I am more of an expert at it than most of the magazine's readership. Statistically speaking I mean. Anyhoo, my little tips can be found on page 57 if you care to pick up a copy and take a moment to peruse the words of my first foray into the male mag world. Hurrah! -x-

Thursday 19 July 2012

The Joy of Money

Currently, money is the bane of my life. Like most happy-go-lucky 20-somethings that yearn to live the full yuppie lifestyle, luxuriating in all of the wonders that such a cosmopolitan city like London has to offer, I'm realising that generating the bank balance to match all of those decadent dining experiences and sipping the freshly-made cocktails, is an abuse on my bank balance and one that, realistically, I can't afford.
Put simply, I'm shitting out money faster than I earn it, but am refusing to admit that Aldi would be a better shopping option for me right now rather than the Sainsbury's down the road. (Don't worry, I'm not so disillusioned to think I could ever afford to shop at Waitrose dharling.)

Admittedly June and July have been the most expensive months of my life since records began. I say records, because I do actually have to keep track of everything I spend and earn now (but mostly spend), otherwise my accountant finds it very difficult to help me dodge any unnecessary tax...which is all legal tax dodging I should note, just in case David Cameron reads this and tries to “out” me, I better clarify that I do pay all the tax I should, so there!

I say all tax; that is apart from the bill I got through the other day, which is still outstanding. I won't say how much I owe for someone else's blunder as they miscalculated my tax whilst in previous employment, but lets just say it's not come at a great time. Getting hit with a tax bill when you're self-employed and earning tuppence to start with and not being the sensible money type to 'put a bit away' to cover you when you're tax bill comes through, makes an already tight month, even tighter... and is quite stupid of me.

Having said that I don't do myself any favours, as I was more than happy the other day to continue living it up and joyously waxed a tenner in the arcade at Brighton Pier on a spiffing day out. Spending money on such frivolities seems simply wondrous at the time; ah the nostalgia of the 2p slot machines, the eagerness to bash the mice on the head with the mallet to win a meagre seven tickets that you can exchange for nought and in the back of your mind you know you could have spent that £1 play on buying a plastic yo-yo from the corner shop. Honestly, though, the satisfaction would not have been the same.

It's true that the love/hate relationship with money drives me mental and I even know what I should be spending my money on, I just can't bring myself to do it. Having so little of it means that when I do get a bit, spending it in the pub or trips out seems much more fun. Is this how alcoholic bums become alcoholic bums? Possibly being flat broke and only having enough money for one can of Special Brew is easier living than having just enough for drinks money, but not quite enough that you can really have a good time because you know there are bills to be paid and groceries to be bought?

I blame the ideology of “being sensible” for ruining the joy of money.

On that note though, I'm in no way saying being an alcoholic bum is a nicer way to live, possibly just easier, simpler. As George Orwell admitted when he gave up his humble livings to write Down and Out in Paris and London, “Within certain limits, it is actually true that the less money you have, the less you worry.” He has a point, because you can't worry about it.

Either that, or my other reasoning is being so filthy rich that money isn't a problem. Bring on the millionaire suitors Jeeves...!

Thursday 5 July 2012

MISSING: The month of June. Blogger goes blank, but alcohol is not to blame

Do you ever have periods of time in your life when you can't remember what the hell happened, how you got to where you are and where the time went? I liked to think I wouldn't start loosing recollections of such lengthy periods of my life until I was quite a bit older, maybe somewhere in my 50's, but it seems that a mental deficiency to recall actions and events between the end of May and throughout June have set in at the tender age of 25. Unfortunately I can't even claim that I was on the piss being a boozy journo stereotype either.

Here is some of what happened in May through to the end of June that now all feels a bit surreal, and, like, if I was to put it all in writing I don't think it would seem possible that it all fitted into four weeks...

I moved house - a pretty fucking major event really.

I went to Chelsea Flower Show - for the first time ever and chatted to Ricky Gervais, Cerys Matthews and met two of the, er, celebrities (?) from Made In Chelsea and annoyingly thought they were really nice. The plants were pretty too.


Got impetigo - no pic for this. It wasn't pretty. Only got it because of the stress of moving. Stupid moving.

Had my feature published in the July issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. The most exciting day of the month.

Image: by Wench
Partied until 6am (-4 hours) at my boyfriend's housewarming, which was the latest I'd stayed up in aaaaages!
Made soup for the first time in my life, ever.

Then at the end of the month I had a bit of a regression to childhood as I met Thomas the Tank Engine, not for the first time either (we go waaaay back).


Hopefully our next blog encounter will be less of a catch up and more of a natter, because quite honestly I've missed talking to you!

RoseC -x-

 

Tuesday 15 May 2012

5 sure fire ways to murder your libido

Because usually I really like sex, but here are my fail-safe anti-sex tips on how to really make sure you don't want 'it'...

1. Move house...two months before the Olympics
As if having to pack up all of your shit, find a 'reliable' man with a van and coordinate your moving out date with four other people, while coughing up the pittance of money you earn to spend on a deposit and a two months rent upfront, but still try to deceive the estate agent that yes, you can afford this house, isn't stressful enough [breathe] you also have to move just before the Olympics because the landlord has now decided he wants his house back. This inevitably makes house hunting nigh-on impossible and doubly stressful. Forced to replace porn watching time with gazing at Gumtree for five hours and trying to call and converse with 80 estate agents within a day, is enough to drive anyones mojo away.

2. Work all day in a sex shop
Don't get me wrong, it's a lot of fun selling vibrators to unsuspecting customers ('unsuspecting' because they only came into 'browse'. I rarely let 'browsers' leave empty-handed), but really, there is too much of a good thing. After a 12 hour shift, the last sound I want to hear is the low murmur of a buzzing contraption. Simply fuck off and get that dual motored, multi-speed with 5 extra pulse functions, G-Spot vibe away from me.

3. Cut yourself shaving
I won't go into details, but "ow", and a bit sore. Does anyone know a good waxer?

4. Be a fun sponge
Due to moving house and working 12 hour shifts, allow yourself to be grumpy. Refuse to do anything more than sit on the sofa and drink red wine, then moan at your boyfriend when he suggests playing Xbox, going to catch up with friends, play golf, or even go for a nice walk. Put your foot down out right and say in your best huffy voice, "No." Guaranteed to kill not just yours, but his libido too.

5. Watch 'Lee Nelson's Really Good Show'...or whatever the fuck it's called
Never have I seen such pointless drivel on the TV - apart from Made In Chelsea - that has actually made me want to write to the BBC and demand back the portion of my licence fee that went towards paying for such utter shite. After listening to half an hour of his shit chav-like chat, you end up going to bed despairing at what the world has come to and it would be impossible to have sex even if you'd taken a bottle of Viagra because you simply loose hope for the human race and therefore any notions of wanting to procreate, or rehearse in the practise of, are totally lost.

RoseC -x-

Monday 23 April 2012

Subs, sex and money

I've been feeling a little bit stale the last few days. Of course, I'm not suggesting in a physical sense, it's not like I've stopped showering and left my hair to go lank or other parts of my body to go crusty - gross, sorry. In the writing stakes though, I just feel like I've come to a bit of a stand still.

After the pressure, adrenaline and all round fun and excitement of writing up my Big Commission and submitting it, then writing another (apparently) stellar feature for Adventure Bike Rider magazine last week, I now feel a little lost and in limbo. Currently there's nothing else major lined up and that makes me a little apprehensive. I need to get my teeth into something else HUGE.

Freelancing is sort of strange in that way, because when you get a gig it's all like, "Hurrah, this is ace, I've got a job for at least a month. Something to keep me really busy," and you know you've worked so hard to get the commission in the first place that it gives you a real high when you get the go ahead.

A month later, once is all done, written and submitted, then you find yourself back at square one facing exactly the same battles. It's this area of being self-employed that I sometimes find the hardest - staying that motivated and dedicated all of the time and I have days where I'm like, 'Ahh fuck it. Can a story just land in my lap today please so I at least earn something?' That rarely happens though.

There has been one little project that I edited together and worked on for the Vibrations Direct blog: an interview with a male submissive. It was really interesting to talk to him, like this is a guy that literally dedicates his whole being to his female dominant. He's not one of those chaps that pops off to a Mistress on the sly from his vanilla wife for a little bit of slap and tickle, he literally lives in service to her all of the time. Puts my sub tendencies into pitiful perspective. The interview is here if you'd like to take a mo to read it. http://www.vibrationsdirect.co.uk/blogs/blog

The rest of this week will be dedicated to getting my second big commission. I've got a few ideas to write up and pitch, then fingers crossed at least one of them will get the go ahead.

I think I'm feeling particular pressure because I have to move house in a months time. Inevitably this means finding money for a deposit, another months rent plus paying the rent on the place I'm already in, agency fees and then the overall cost of the house I'm moving to is really pushing my budget to the maximum. To say I'm shitting it and a little bit nervous about making ends meet is an understatement!

That's not to say it's not do-able (hello Mr Estate Agent if you ever find this before we sign the contracts). It just means I need to get my head down and really start pushing myself, even more than I am doing. If my fella heard me say that he'd probably ask, "How?" as he thinks I work hard enough already, bless. There's always more that can be done though and it's that extra bit more that I need to do.

*Sigh* I wish earning money as a writer was easier sometimes, at least for the next month or two.

Cheers,
RoseC (soon to be writing whore as will take commissions on anything!) -x-    

Friday 6 April 2012

Just a love machine

We sell a great number of amazing, titillating, vibrating, sexy, powerful and alluring toys in the sex shop I work in. There is literally a huge number of gadgets and lingerie to satisfy on offer, but for some people this just isn't enough. Some people see past the designer dildos, the multi-speed vibrators and instead make it their sole purpose to come into the shop and use The Love Machine.

It looks a little bit like this.


The one in the shop doesn't look quite as modern as this, I couldn't actually find the one we have on google images. Testament perhaps as to how old it might be. That's by-the-by though, the point is that people - ok, mainly men - walk into the shop specifically to use this contraption to get their 'love' or 'sex' rating thinking that it tells them the truth. If they hit a 10, they're assured they're gonna get laid that day, or if they get a two or three they claim they don't understand, ask me to explain and then throw an explicit or two at the machine when they believe it's just told them they don't have a hope in hell of pulling because they're 'a wet fish'.

I first spotted this phenomenon when an Asian chap brought an older gentleman friend of his into the store. They spoke for a moment in a language I didn't understand, but by the tone you could infer he was saying something along the lines of: "You put 20p in there, put your finger on there and it tells you how sexy you are and if you're going to get your end away."

"Really?" asks the older chap sceptically.
"Absolutely, just do it, here give me 20p," inserts into slot and forces his friends finger onto the metal pad.

At the point the machine kicks in and makes some god-awful noises that you only hear at gyppo carnivals just before the rides are about to start. It lasts about a minute. The whole time the gent stands frozen, his finger on the pad, not sure what the funny, little pink machine is going to do next.

"OOOOHHHHHH, AAAAHHHHH! 10! YOU GOT 10," (I assume) the younger man declares excitedly, obviously happy that his friend will be getting his leg over that evening. The older man casually shrugs his shoulders as if he knew this already. What a playa.

This must bode well for the younger man, who takes his turn next. Clearly the love machine is on fire today and everyone will be having sex. Hell, London may even become one big orgy before sunset.

Sadly, it's not to be. The younger chap only scored a five. Head down, disappointed, he probably won't even make it off the bench. They promptly leave the store.

People who like to play this game often get agitated if they don't have any 20p's and ask you to change a pounds worth. We're not allowed to do this. Upon telling them we're often met with disgust that we've now scuppered their chance to get jiggy.

Well, actually, no we haven't. It's a fucking game, it's not real. It goes on pulse rate, it's ridiculous. It's about as accurate as a mood ring telling you you're suicidal even though you feel like a ray of sunshine. If you really want something satisfying then why not take the time to look at, or even buy, some of the actual, good sex toys that we sell. Stick your dick in that and I promise it'll be a lot more satisfying than discovering a lie from the love machine!

Thankfully, most people that play in groups realise it's a gimmick, a bit of fun. The false hope is supposed to be laughed at as your nerdy friend scores a nine or 10, but the stud gets a meagre three.

I once told a man that it wasn't real...well he did ask!

Venturing in with two other male friends they were dressed smart, nice cologne and clearly about to hit the town. Up they step to the machine, two of them with serious looks on their faces as their sex fate was about to be decided. The third chap, who must have had a bit more going on upstairs, turned to me and asked, "Is this actually real? Or is it a toy?"
"It's just a toy sir, a bit of fun." We both laughed, but I could tell he died a bit inside at the disappointment as the laughing stopped and he relayed my message to his friends. I felt like I'd killed some sort of mythical sex fairy.

They left, and I only hope they managed to roger some girls just to prove how wrong the love machine was and they didn't need it's backing to get a shag.

To a point, I guess it's a confidence booster for some chaps, if they know they've got a 10 behind them. So for all it's fault and intimidating noises, long live the falsity of The Love Machine. 

Wednesday 28 March 2012

A big ball of sunshine and happiness...

Today I am feeling fucked off.

There are several reasons for this, some I may go into and some I definitely won't. Lets tackle the obvious one first: the weather is really fucking nice and I'm stuck indoors writing, or trying to write, but I'm being thwarted at every turn and nothing seems to be coming together for me today. If ever there was a worse example of pathetic fallacy, then today would be it because my mood is fucking hideous, but it's such a glorious and beautiful day outside.

Bastard weather.

Another reason for my bad mood is that I'm uncharacteristically feeling like a complete soppy fucker and really missing The Boyf. He's been staying at mine for the last three weeks, but he "moved out" on Sunday. He's found a house now, so the pressure is off a little, but he has to help arrange viewings for his old place down in Kent. Do I feel as if I've been dropped like a cold bag of sick?...Of course not...

I thought I'd be all happy having my own space back, but instead I feel a bit shit that he's not around in the evenings and as much as I hated him waking me up because I was snoring, I quite miss having him in bed. Mostly I miss him cooking for me though. I've to reacquaint myself with how a saucepan works as well as how to navigate around Tesco for the food shopping. Well, it's just been so long since I've had to do it...

Talking of space, the final 'mini rant' I'm going to have is about the fact that I may have to move house. The landlord has decided to put the rent up and there's no way I can justify paying more than I do for my box of a room. Moving house is a ball ache - hunting for a house is even more so. Especially as we're in the run up to the Olympics. I can't even begin to tell you how many adverts on Gumtree are advertising properties at disgusting prices just because the Olympics are on for two weeks of the fucking year. Fuck that.

Overall I think today is a complete write-off. Not what I had in mind at all as I was so productive on Monday and yesterday I had a really good day in the sex shop; I managed to sell one of the most expensive toys in the cabinet!

Go me!

RoseC -x- 

Wednesday 7 March 2012

The weather's shit, but I'm happy!

Everything's been a bit topsy turvy lately, with so much going on that if I was to go into it all then it would bore you stupid. Instead I've decided to do a chart-style run down of my most favourite things to have happened over the last...hm, how far should I go back? Right, ok lets say, the last two weeks. I think that's sufficient enough time to fit in all the major dramas. I guess if it's a chart it should start with the least amazing of all the amazing things I'm about to tell you, right?

In at FIVE
The bf is currently living with me. For all of this week he's staying with me in my little room in my, not so little, house with me and housemates. He started his new job in the City, but hasn't found anywhere to live yet so is crashing at mine. There's several reasons why this is good: first it's so nice to have him around for a long time after having been a 'weekend arrangement' for the last year and a half; I haven't had to cook a meal since last Friday because he enjoys cooking and has done it all; he made the most awesome chocolate cake on Monday that makes me want to say he can stay forever...and I won't even care if I get fat(ter).

At number FOUR
I received a copy of Adventure Bike Rider magazine last week with my feature in it. It's all motorbike related facts and stats that will literally BLOW YOUR MIND! Granted, I'm not the most savvy motorbike, er, person, but what puts this on my hit list is how cool it was to see my work and name in actual print again. Been a while since that happened so it's quite novel really.

New at THREE
As I've not been earning quite enough from my writing endeavours I've picked up a part time job...in a sex shop!!! Fuck it's awesome. I literally couldn't be happier working there. I get to give people advice on sex toys, and lube, and corsets, and, and, and...ah it's just fab. The other day I sold a vibrator to a customer that had never used toys before. Most awesome and there are some really interesting characters that come in there. There was me thinking you only met oddballs and interesting folk through bar work, well no way. Can't wait for my next shift...oh yeah, I don't have to, it's tomorrow. YAY!

Straight in at TWO
As if I needed any more confirmation that my life was turning into that of fictional wannabe writer Daisy Steiner, which I mentioned in my last post here, not a week after posting that did I meet the actual actress, Jessica Hynes, who played her. I did a total, utter geek out and gushed about how much I loved Spaced. She was cool with it though and she initiated actual, physical touching when she placed her hand on my shoulder first. In between dithering I'm not sure what I said to her. I know I did manage to refrain from telling her my life is that of Daisy's as I didn't want to totally freak her out. Honestly made my week, which is why it's so high up on the list.

The big one at number ONE
If you haven't heard already, and the only way you'll have missed this is if you don't pay enough attention to me on Twitter of FB, I got my first commission from Cosmopolitan magazine. HURRAH! I pitched my little heart out to them and they've decided to run with one of my ideas in an upcoming issue. So massively excited for what it'll do for my profile (and my bank balance). Obviously I can't say much, but rest assured, it's on my favourite subject: sex.

Aahh so overall a good couple of weeks. I have loads more in the pipeline that I'm working on and excited about. Declaring myself as self-employed to HM Revenue and Customs today wasn't one of them. Form filling is not my forte!

Until next time and thank ye for reading.
RoseC -x-  

Wednesday 15 February 2012

"They're all writers Daisy"

Last weekend I managed to get out of the city, which I think is exactly what I needed. Being stuck in the house working sometimes sends me to delirium and being here for so many hours of the day means that I pick up on all of the annoying habits of my housemates, but because I'm only living in these four walls they feel amplified because I see them every day. When you're actually out somewhere at work you don't notice little things that people do because you're at home for so few hours, or just to eat dinner and sleep.

It's not their fault, it's mine for being so fucking neurotic about stuff on the draining board being cleared away every day rather than attempting a balancing act, or the kerfuffle as to who should be buying loo roll or milk next. Dwelling on these insignificant matters are a clear sign that you've been spending way too many hours indoors and it's time to get the fuck out, because really I love my housemates.

So, I did, I got away for the weekend back to Leicester to see my Mom and my Aunty for their respective birthdays and then I spent a couple of days down in Kent with the fella. During my time away I did nothing but eat: demolishing a whole special chow mein while half cut, a full afternoon tea in a very posh hotel with finger sarnies and fresh cream scones, then dinner at a friends, followed on Sunday by a huge roast down the local pub. It's no wonder that when I weighed myself I discovered that at the moment I'm the heaviest I've ever been. Not that I'm really one of these weight conscious people, in fact I'm so not feeling guilty about it that instead I'll say it's a good thing because it's been hella cold lately and that extra half-stone (since Christmas) has seen me right through the snow!

Besides food, I've been slogging my guts out with my writing work, taking anything and everything I can and still trying to come up with good pitches. Sadly for the impatient side of me it's not happening quick enough. I know this because the bills are soon to be stackin' and I don't have the moolah to pay them all. Darn, and there was me hoping shit loads of work was going to fall into my lap (jokes).

In all honesty it's not going badly at all. There are pick ups and leads all over the place - especially for the sex related writing. I just need it to pull in a bit more income, but before you say it, I know, I know. These things can take time.


Tomorrow I'll be heading for an interview for a waitressing and bar job. It's temp agency work, so you pick it up as and when you need to. Great in the sense that I can pick and choose jobs and fit it around my writing schedule, and fabulous that it'll help me beat some of this cabin fever, but I can't help feeling a little bit Daisy Steiner a la Spaced. "Oh, they're all writers Daisy," said the cruel kitchen manager in episode 2, series 2, as she taunted and jeered all the 'failed' word smiths.

I'm sure it'll be fine. I always quite enjoyed bar work because it was a good opportunity to meet all sorts of interesting people. Was definitely up on the social side of it, and having drinks bought for me by customers was always a bonus too, so by the end of the night I was cashing them in and drinking for free. Not sure this agency is going to be quite as relaxed as that though.

Wish me luck!

RoseC -x-

Tuesday 7 February 2012

I like to talk about sex 'n' stuff

Every now and then I have media-type people coming to me to ask me to talk about rudey, nudey sex type things. There haven't been many, I wouldn't class myself a sexpert by any stretch of the imagination, and generally it's to ask for comments about what it's like to write about sex in the media. An interesting subject.

Such an occasion arose today, where I have been asked to take part in a two-part blog feature on sex and social media. You can read it here and there are even some pretty pics of me that put my blog photo to shame!

As you can see from the post there will be a second part on Thursday: exciting! I don't think there will be as many pictures of my face in that one though.

Incidentally, if you found that interesting then you can also see me quoted here.

  

Thursday 2 February 2012

New Media Whore

So I've been a busy little bumble-bee with all of this writing business over the last week and it seems to be going ok! Granted, I'm not making enough to really live off at the moment and am coming to terms with the fact that I'm going to have to get a 'proper' job sometime this month to pay the rent and bills, but hell, I've only been at it for a month (or a bit less) and I've already got myself three regular writing spots - did I mention that in a previous post?

"Who are you writing for?" I hear you cry, or if it wasn't you then maybe the mouse that lives in my room has just learnt to talk. Either way, I can tell you that I'm writing for:

Adventure Bike Rider magazine (I haven't ridden a motorbike since I was about 9 years old and that was my best friends mini moto, but I'm learning.)

www.CityPlanter.co.uk which is an urban gardening magazine. Again, I know I'm not the most green-fingered person, but I'm learning and I live in a city and I can write, so I qualify.

And the latest string to add to my bow, which many of you may be shocked by, yet at the same time delighted, is that I'm now editor and looking after all editorial content for www.VibrationsDirect.co.uk. Yes, it is exactly the kind of site you'd expect me to be writing for after my, ahem, long and, ahem, illustrious career at Harlot magazine.

Told you I was heading back to the gutter! In fact friends have said, "think of all the perks of the job" and, "the gutter is where you belong." Well, thanks guys.

I've been fairly restrained so far (well you know I love to be tied up), but I have many plans for the site that I hope I can pull off. (Oh god will the innuendo never end?!)

I know I ask for a lot of support from my friends and family already with what I do, but if you have it in your hearts to follow our Facebook page or follow the company on Twitter @vibesdirect (which I totally look after) I'd be eternally grateful. I'll make it worth your while though by filling it full of tasteful smut, comps and may even ask a few of you if you fancy writing a review. We'll see how it goes :-)

Oh and you can read some of the blogs I've put up there already by heading to http://www.vibrationsdirect.co.uk/blogs/blog 

I've totally become a twitter whore over the last week or so too. It doesn't help that I've upgraded my phone so I now have one of these new fangled smart app telemaphone things. Although I'm on it a lot, especially for the new jobs, I'm glad to say I've not quite reached the point where I'm telling the world that I'm going for a shit.

The downside is that because I'm on it so much, tweeting, texting, playing Word Scramble, I think it's giving me repetitive strain injury, or RSI as us suffers like to call it. I find my hand spasming at the end of each working day and constantly fixed in the smart phone grip and finger point position. Hopefully it won't become possessed due to all the demands I'm putting on it and turn on me like some freakish, murder hungry Idle Hands situation.

RoseC -x-

Monday 30 January 2012

Red wine + opinions = danger

I've come out of the other side of this weekend thinking that I couldn't actually be happier with my life right now. That's quite a statement to make and I think it's taken me a while to get here, working through life-changing decisions and facing up to the fact that I could actually be making things harder on myself, but at the same time knowing that they're right decisions and so ultimately I will end up happier.

Thankfully that's happened. I think I came to realise it in the pub this afternoon with my fella. Sat chatting, putting the world to rights and just smiling, just knowing that I'm having the opportunity to pursue a career I enjoy with people I love supporting me.

Smug, sickening, self-righteous I may be, but I've taken a step that I know many people have admired, or even envied, because at least I'm no longer wasting my time stuck doing something I don't enjoy.

It's funny really, the people I've spoken to this weekend that have told me they're 'hoping to stick it out for another year' or they're 'so fed up it has to change' and knowing they're where I was two or three months ago. All I can honestly say, in my slightly tipsy, but perfectly lucid, red wine state, is that if something doesn't feel right in your life, then fuck it. Jack it in and move on. It's tough, but by far the best thing you can do.

Ok, so I'm not sure how to get the rent together in the next month or so, but I'm not worried. It will work out. So far it has. Since I've quit my job I've managed to score three, yes three, different writing jobs and have been encouraged to pitch more ideas to a national women's mag. A year, or even five months ago I never thought I'd be in this position because I never thought I'd have the bollocks to do it. Obviously, it was never going to be an easy ride, but the fact of the matter is that three weeks into my self-employment I've managed to get regular, paid, writing spots goes to show that if you want something bad enough then it will happen...because you have to make it so.

Today I heard that a friend of a friend had jacked in his job to give it a go at being an actor. Risky, but he's committed. He's down-graded his home/rent and followed his heart. As people have been saying to me over the last few weeks, I really admire that's he's doing it, putting himself out there, and you know he'll work his bollocks off to make it, no matter how small the personal landmark will be that he's "made it", because we all have our own goals, but he's doing something about it. He's not staying somewhere for the sake of it, feeling duty bound like so many of us do because at the moment we're pressured into the feeling of having to keep a job because they're simply gold dust.

It's bull shit.

My heart goes out to my friend that's stuck in a job she's 'sort of' enjoying, working for a wage that's getting her by and living in a town she's desperate to get out of. If I could, I'd pack her bags for her and tell her to take more of a chance. In some ways I admire her, she's following the map and the plan I once had, but was thrown off because of circumstances out of my control. At that point I was forced to tread water, as it were, and make (sometimes shitty) decisions as to the direction of things. But it's worked out fine, and she'd be fine, but she's too sensible and I hate the thought of her being unhappy for another two years.

Overall I think I'm just fed up of people being unhappy; of seeing people I care about stuck in situations they feel they can't get out of because I know that's the shittest feeling in all the world. I hate that as a young person, supposed to be full of beans and starting on their career, we're given nothing but negativity and shit in the media about how bad things are and there's literally no resolution at the end of it. It's sad, it's depressing, it's scary as fuck and I guess the only positive I can see is that we're being pushed into these gold dust jobs, but we can only withstand it for so long before it motivates us enough to say "fuck it" and try to make it anyway because at least there's been an attempt to do something that makes us happy and fail, rather than work in a two-bit job that makes us miserable.

Realisation can be tough sometimes.

RoseC -x-

Sunday 22 January 2012

Completely missing the point

Sat in the pub with the boyfriend on Saturday night, we got onto the discussion of 'shit films' after one of his housemates was watching a particularly cheesy piece of cinematic shite, Beastly - a remake of Beauty & The Beast. Have you seen it? If you have and you enjoyed it then you are now dead to me, and if you haven't seen it then take it from me that it should be avoided like the plague because it's the biggest load of wank with cliched lines and weak acting. In my opinion.

Anyway, that's how the conversation on films started. It then progressed to my boyfriend telling me he'd read a story in the news that Odeon cinemas had been refunding tickets to people who went to see The Artist, but then demanded a refund because there was no talking in it.

After a moment of spluttering and trying to get my head around what I'd just heard, the only response I could come out with was: "What complete fucktards!"

"Who?" asks the boyfriend, and to be honest I think that's where my confusion really started because I don't know who that was directed at as it appears to me there's a fine line between who's stupider: the members of the audience that went to see a SILENT film and then complained when there was no dialogue, or Odeon for refunding these culturally inept twats. Who was to win the 'fucktard' title?

Seriously though, how can people go to see a film which has received so much acclaim and coverage for the fact that it's in black and white and that the trailer is completely silent except for members of the audience commenting on it, that they completely missed the point and concept of the film? My guess is that they're band waggon hoppers that thought, "oh my god like everyones talking about this really amazing film, that's like so cutting edge and because we're edgy and stuff we should go and see it and totally get it because we're big cinematic fans."

Well, you didn't get it did you? You completely missed the fucking point of the beauty and irony and historical context of the film and because you're so bought in on glitzy Hollywood anything that breaks the conformity you're used to, or that you have to think about, or god forbid you should be asked to be slightly more active in watching the film by reading rather than a completely passive member of the audience where your eyes look lazily at the screen expecting to see all the whizz-bangs and CGI effects that are usually so lovingly put together in your blockbusters, you felt the need to ask for a fucking refund because you needed to engage with what was in front of you.

Twats.

The cinema's no better though in my opinion. I don't think they should have refunded the fucktards, thus also making them stupid too. Apparently Odeon have a policy whereby you can get your money back if you leave the film 10 minutes in and you're not enjoying it - wish I'd known that when I went to see Tim Burton's Alice In Wonderland. Terrible.

Something just doesn't sit right with me about it though. Even though I didn't like Alice In Wonderland, I knew what I was getting myself into, it's just unfortunate that the story retold in the way it was, wasn't very good. The fact that The Artist doesn't have any dialogue in it shouldn't be justification for people finding the film crap. They're entitled to think that if they wish, but not because of the lack of sound because that's the point of the film. If the plot was rubbish too, then fair enough, walk out, but you can't go to see a silent film and then criticise it for being too silent. That's plain stupid.

What we can learn from this is people need to pay more attention to reviews or at least take half an interest in what they're hoping to see at the cinema rather than jumping on a band waggon and feeling obliged to see it because it's 'critically acclaimed'. If it doesn't sound like (pardon the pun) the sort of film you'd like, then don't see it. I avoided Avatar for that exact same reason.

Here's the article I read up about it. Don't even get me started on the typos in there...

RoseC

Tuesday 17 January 2012

LETS GET READY TO, er? Ramble?

In the blue corner we have THE CITY AKA BIG SMOKE!

In the coat, scarf, gloves and hat corner ready for the Antarctic, but just going for a walk around London we have Rose "THE CROMPTONATOR" Crompton!

NOW LETS GET READY TO RRAAAAAMMMMBLE!

Yes that's right ladies and gentlemen, with feet that move as quick as Charlie Brown's scuttling little legs, I ducked and weaved my way around zone one, taking on the sights and sirens of the city for an evening walk, with a walking group.

One of my ambitions for 2012 that I've put on my list (which I'm yet to publish in a blog) is to find two new hobbies or interests. I've thought about how much I used to enjoy walking around the local fields when I lived back in Leicestershire, so it led me to look up groups to go walking with in the city. Slightly different scenery, definitely no cows [insert desired catty comment here] but I need stuff to get me out the house and after a bit of Googling I managed to find a walking group right in the centre of London.

Geez, you don't even know how stir crazy I've been going working from home. Literally sitting in front of my laptop with no where to stroll to apart from the kitchen, then back to the living room and then maybe a short trip to Tesco across the road if I'm lucky. That's it. No one to talk to. It's a wonder I've not gnawed off a foot yet - obviously I wouldn't chew off my hands, that would be crazy, I need those to help me make money typing/writing. So, tonight I got myself out there and attended my first walking group ramble!

Ok, ok, so before you go off on one thinking I've aged about 40 years, this was with a walking group for people aged 20-30s, who all live and work in London so they're all quite like minded city dwellers and it wasn't going for an amble with people aged 60+ wanting to talk about nothing more than their post office pension scheme or whatever. Bit of a sweeping generalisation, apologies, but I'm trying to ensure you don't have the same bemused smile on your face as my housemate as a stereotypical image of a walking group pops into your head.

It was all very sociable and around 30 people rocked up. I chatted to an ex-teacher who'd had enough of the rudeness of young people that he quit after a year, a chap from Australia who loved coffee shops and banana bread too and a fellow newbie that was from Poland and schooled me on the finer points of vodka. I don't even like vodka.

Overall everyone was really lovely, they kind of all reminded me of my Mom and her walking group and friends, but younger. Shit, well there's that stereotype I was trying so hard to not get you to think about. But they were, they were all just friendly, nice to chat to people. Good to get out into a new social circle and apparently with over 800 members I'm sure there's many more people to meet!

Even though it was in the city and I've lived here for five years, and even though the route from Old Street to London Bridge was one that I trudged everyday because it was my work commute journey for nearly two years, the leader still managed to find a route that lead us down city back streets and around buildings, statues and monuments that I'd never seen before. Just goes to show, London always has something new to show you and there's no way you can ever see it all, not even after five years. It's nice to be reminded of that, especially because it's so easy to narrow your sights in London and just stick to places you know and so end up seeing things you've seen a thousand times before.

As soon as I fix myself with a decent pair of walking boots I'm off on a 10 mile proper ramble. The last time I walked 10 miles or more was when I was in the Brownies, so bring on the challenge!

RoseC -x-

Monday 16 January 2012

Mind the gutter (NSFW, probably)

There used to be a time when sex was an everyday part of my life. No, I don't mean I was 'doing it' every day (chance would be a fine thing), but I was either reading, writing, watching or talking about it. For most people rocking up into the office and turning on their computer means they're usually faced with the same old desktop - a cute animal of some sort, or a favourite holiday snap to remind them that there's a goal to the dreary existence that makes earning money all worthwhile - but for me turning up to work on a morning I would be faced with images of tits or close ups of a woman's fanny.

We'd then sit and discuss the finer points of using sexual lubricants during foreplay, if the latest designer sex toy really is that good because it only made me come twice in five minutes, or whether it's acceptable to wake your partner up by fucking them or whether that amounts to some form of relationship rape as they're technically not conscious to consent. (This is still to be resolved or clarified, feel free to wade in.) These were every day discussions and points of interest, and I've been missing it.

Obviously when I was working in the school I had to keep quiet about where I used to work or some of the things I'd write about. There were a few people I told, perhaps because I liked to shock them, I liked that reaction when they went, "Oh my word! And now you work in a school, that's a bit of a change," and yes, quite frankly it was; it was a change that forced me to clean up my act and watch my mouth and be grown up and honestly, it was so unsexy.

Thankfully though, the last few days I've been putting my filth hat back on and am happy to trip back into the gutter. I still have plenty of sex feature ideas in my file left over from Scarlet that I've had chance to go back over and rehash into better ideas. I've been writing some of my own erotic fiction. Granted this has never been my strong point, but I find it fun to write for myself so I've been doing that.

Today I put together a sex-related pitch that I hope will get me into a national women's magazine and then have been researching another, but can't say I've had much success. Apparently there aren't many logical, good reasons to get naked everyday, other than showering, if you're a naturist or if you're an egotistical sod. I mean there are no obvious health or well-being benefits so I may have to prod and probe to create my own!

I've managed to unearth many illogical ones though, such as World Naked Gardening Day (it's on Saturday May 5th in case you were wondering, and no it's not something I'll be covering on the gardening website) which appears to be nothing more than encouraging people to get their kit off in the garden for a day and there's no 'political agenda' behind it, or reason. It's just a get naked and do a bit of gardening day. Hardly a good enough reason to get nude, imagine all the nettles if you've got a garden full or weeds, or all the pricks you could get. From the rose bushes I mean...

I found stuff on naked changing room etiquette, that getting naked in front of your partner everyday can help keep the romance....oh wait hang on, that might actually work for the article. Again, knowing whether it's good to strip off in front of your brother (er, no) or if it will help you get laid by your neighbour who happens to be a swinger, is not particularly useful to me and then I just knew it was going wrong when I got into all of the 'abused naked' regions of Google's dark side and decided to stop looking.

I mean there's being in the gutter and enjoying a bit of filth and nuddy fun, but then there's places you should never go. At least not for the articles I want to write, then they're practically tame in comparison to some people's debauched minds.

It feels good to put at least one foot back in the gutter for now.

RoseC -x-

Thursday 12 January 2012

My new toy and other stuff

Today has been a whole other level of shit. Shall I tell you why?

Because I'm ill with a stupid fucking cold.

Today I bought this...

...which I'd hoped to cycle round London on because it's meant to be that last decent day of the mild weather before it gets cold, so I wanted to play with my new toy.

Instead I find myself in bed, aching all over, nose streaming, sinuses hurting, ears hurting and looking like someone punched me in both eyes and then not allowed me to sleep for 24 hours.

I AM NOT A HAPPY BUNNY!

I'm shit at being ill, I may have said this before, but I'm especially shit at being ill when the day before I was all excited about something and then I've had that excitement snatched away from me all because some fucker on the same bus as me didn't bother to catch it, bin it, and kill it.

Obviously I've got very little work done today - it's difficult to put together a 1000 word article typing with just one hand while the other is holding a tissue to your nose - so instead I watched a lot of tele.

It seems the commercial companies knew I was ill because that bloody Boots advert with the two women who are sick with cold, running around town having to get stuff for their bed-ridden husbands who have man-flu, kept coming on.

Today, of all days, that advert made me mad. If those women were really that sick, like what I'm sick with and judging from the symptoms they're showing on the tv, it's very likely we have the same thing, they would not be out and about! Fucking martyrs my arse, they're showing us real sick and poorly women up in a bad light! In an attempt to get sympathy from the boyfriend, all I got was a reminder of that advert and told to "man up" and clearly I'm "suffering from 'man-flu'." Apparently he "couldn't resist" taking a dig.

Thanks to that advert, women can no longer be taken seriously when ill, when they need a duvet day, when they need fuss and attention and someone to make their lemsips for them because of fear of sneezing while holding a boiling kettle and scalding themselves. You may think it's just a cold, but there are real dangers out there when your head's fuzzy and full of mucus.

So, well done Boots, you've ruined it for every women ever!

RoseC -x-

Tuesday 10 January 2012

I know I'm turning into my mother when...

1. I decide to join a walking group
When I was younger I hated walking anywhere and would always ask my parents to drive me everywhere, much to my Mom's dismay who is a bit of an eco-freak and loves walking so much that she's been the member of a rambling group for over a decade and she only joined the postal service because of all the walking involved.

Well, I'm now 25 and the idea of hiking around the British countryside to escape the city is massively appealing. I want to aimlessly walk across picturesque fields in the mud, in the cold, in my new waterproof trousers that my Mom got me for Christmas, which are the same ones she got for wet weather days on the post and so assures me that they're "really good". So, I looked up city walking groups today and as soon as I've purchased myself a good pair of boots then I'm going to pay my £41 to join the city walking group and damn I will walk myself stupid around London!

2. Keeping a diary and making plans way in advance

Keeping a diary and track of things is good; it's good to be organised. Sometimes though I think I can be organised to the point of irritation where I loose track of being spontaneous. When I get to the weekend I need to know exactly what's happening so that I can think and plan out the most logical order in which to do things. This is my mother to a tee.

When I was younger Mom and Dad used to 'do diaries' where they'd sit down together for half an hour and write up in their diary what each would be doing the following week, or a month down the line, or three months down the line. I've found myself doing this, much to the annoyance of my boyfriend. Before 2011 was even out, I was already writing plans in the diary for June 2012 of things that we've got on. He's even asked to get a diary this year, so clearly it's only a matter of time before we'll be having our own 'doing diaries'.

3. I'm getting into gardening

Mom's always been into horticulture stuff. Not only does she take very, very good care of our garden back home and cultivate her allotment, but she was even the chair, or head, or whatever for the village trust for a time. I'd get dragged around garden centres, which never interested me at all. Gardening was boring. Again though, until this year and now I find myself applying for jobs on gardening magazines, writing articles about lettuce and for an urban gardening website and actually enjoying it!

4. I admire my Mom's dress sense

There's no way I'm ready to hang up my baggy jeans and skate shoes yet, but as my Mom's got older she dresses way better and there are a selection of skirts in her wardrobe that I really like. They're simple, like proper classic cuts that go with anything. I on the other hand struggle with skirts and so this makes me envious, but at the same time worried that I'm starting to like what my Mom wears!

5. I drink less

For as long as I've been aware, my Mom's never been a big drinker. I think there are only a handful of occasions I can think of when she's been tipsy. Apparently she gave up drinking much in her late 20's because she got really bad hangovers. Before that she was a baby sham swilling, cigar smoking lady. Now she only agrees to the odd glass of champagne.

I used to be able to down a handful of pints and polish off a bottle of wine without a second thought and only minor repercussions. When it came to the drinking stakes I was definitely my father's daughter. Totally can't do it very much anymore and instead find myself enjoying just the odd glass and being happy enough.

Good grief, and there was me thinking that turning into your mother was just an urban myth.

RoseC -x-

Friday 6 January 2012

ARGH! That is all.

You know when you have one of those days, where you set out in the morning all of the things you want to get done, and you think 'yeah sure that's all doable. I'll have this done by mid-morning, that by lunch time, and then round off my day with this fun little task,' and you feel uber productive? Well, that is exactly how I started my Friday. I had all this shit I wanted/needed to get done, but then as you well know, because you've experienced one of these too, you get hung up on one task, chasing things around and then before you know it, it's the end of the day and people have packed up for the weekend before I'd finished finding out all the stuff that I needed to.

How fucking annoying.

Long story short, I didn't managed to get anything published today, when I planned to get two stories up on the site and get another list of potential stories over for another commission I got, ready for the ed to check them over on Monday. That didn't happen. I fear they may be work overspill into the weekend.

But now the boyfriend's here and it's unlikely that it'll get done.

Right now though we're off to the pub. I've been indoors all day, in front of my laptop, and you know what, I'm not even going to bother checking this blog post for accuracy or spelling mistakes because I have totally over-edited my little heart and brain out today (but still not manage to get everything done. Urgh it's a viscious cycle).

Bye...BYE!

RoseC -x-

Wednesday 4 January 2012

Itchy Fingers

It's been a busy hectic day getting my first two commissions off the ground, one has been published and I scored another commission today. Off to a good start I feel. Shattered now though and a bit fed up of looking at my laptop screen. Spent a whole day waiting for emails to be returned or for my phone to ring with an expert on the other end of the line. That's one thing I forgot about the media: you start off all gun-ho and send out all the info and stuff that you need, then you have the three hour lull while you wait for people to get back to you. Frustrating when your fingers are itching to type.

Anyway, without further delay, click here to read my first published piece of 2012. Short, sweet and may much more work come my way. Hurrah!

RoseC -x-

Tuesday 3 January 2012

NEWS FLASH! 2012 update

Only three days into the new year and already so much has happened in 2012: a new leader has been sworn into North Korea (that probably won't be any better than the last); UK gun laws are under scrutiny after a man shoots dead three women and himself; a murder case that has been open for 18 years has finally been closed; winds reaching 102mph brings British transport to a stop in parts of the country and kills two, and the Bangladesh government bans porn.

In terms of mainstream news it's not been the most uplifting of starts. Luckily, on a personal level the news is a lot more positive. For example, I had a very wonderful NYE with the boyfriend, drinking champagne and watching the fireworks from the comfort of my sofa. I went to the cinema for the first time in months to see Sherlock Holmes and thoroughly enjoyed it. I've been commissioned my first two news stories for the gardening site, and today I completed my first full day of being a freelance journalist (that feels good to say), which was very productive indeed.

The only blotch on my record so far is not being able to get the hang of the stove-top coffee maker I was gifted for Christmas. Two attempts I made at it this morning, and both times the coffee burnt. Fail. I guess my ideal working from-home start to the day with a fresh cup of coffee before settling down with my laptop will take more practise.

I thought of all of these things I wanted to blog about in my first post, whether I was going to round up my 2011 list and jot down a new 2012 list (which I will definitely do in the next couple of days), but I'm getting the feeling that this year requires spontaneity and an impulsiveness in order to make it a good one. I'm not big on new year resolutions, but I think if I had to make one it's that I should learn to be more relaxed and trust my instincts a bit more.

Well, I guess the first major step has happened - quitting my job - and now where the work comes from, or where my career goes from here is up to me being proactive and getting things done. Which I am going to do. Aims for the week:
  1. write up two news stories
  2. email off at least three feature pitches
  3. buy a new bike
All achievable I think. Small, manageable goals are the way forward to keep the morale up. Ok, I realise I'm rambling on like some overly enthusiastic self-help guru come looser, with too much money.

Ok, enough said. Have a good rest of the evening and speak soon!

RoseC -x-