Trendspotting

Having had some positive feedback following my recent post, I thought I would keep up the efforts and write something to fill the gap between now and Nick returning home and us eating dinner, which incidentally, I'm tres excited about as it's from M&S simply food and we don't often get M&S treats down here in the Toe.

It's been a most satisfying couple of days. Tank and I have clocked up the miles, journeying to Swindon via Tidworth where last night I enjoyed a rather lovely meal with the Charnocks. Shout out to the Charnocks for their (always) fabulous hospitality.

Today was spent in Swindon at head office. I have decided to rename my team the Fashion Police following a series of interesting discussions about work wear and the perils of getting it oh so wrong. I am, incidentally, always getting it oh so wrong and have been doing so from the beginning when I got a bollocking in the first three months of my first proper job for wearing a too short skirt. In fact, I got a similar rollocking in my last job so let's face it, it's only a matter of time before I make a similar fashion faux pas.

There are various tribes of style at my new workplace. At my usual place of work the theme is either smart (trousers, skirts, sometimes a colourful scarf, sensible leather boots cos you never know when you're going to have to trudge through a pile of mud) or 'country', a look which is not possible without a corporate branded gilet or sweatshirt or both depending on whether or not the radiator in your office is broken.

Head office is another matter however. Most people go for the similar smart casual look (which is slightly more Boden than at regional level), though there are also tribes of tweed, cool looking skinny girls with colourful tunic dresses, leggings and ballet pumps (God knows why they're not working for some super cool media type company in London) and the odd, well shall we say 'individual' who sticks out like Lady GaGa might at the Cameltoe and District WI meeting. Clearly, these people do not know who they are.

So, a useful and educating day. I will continue to not quite fit in in my uniform of converse, smart (ish) trousers and layered t shirts (clearly my days working for Gap have made their mark) and will live in the knowledge that, rather than trying to change my outfits to fit in, I will gladly accept that the next time I choose to wear a very short skirt (yes, there will be a time), I will get monumentally told off. I will of course always check in with the fashion police first. Occasionally, a short skirt is a useful and not to be ignored fundraising tool.

On a completely unrelated topic, a drove past a place called 'Hurden' the other night. Only a matter of time methinks before the Bodmin Moor graffitti genius kicks in...

Gimps anyone?

How time flies in Cameltoe. Last time I blogged it was snowing and leaving work at 5.30 involved a spooky pitch black drive over Bodmin Moor. Now the sun is shining, the daffs are out and I'm desperately trying to resist giving my credit card a good work out in the shops (all those gorgeous summer clothes, what girl can resist?). Instead, I'm trying to focus on giving myself a good work out oncce in a while, bearing in mind that the London Marathon is only 6 weeks away.

Enough of that though, you've all heard me bang on about the London Marathon before so I won't bore you with it now.

I think my favourite recent occurence here is that some comedy genius has cleverly changed the town sign so that it now reads 'Cameltoe'. An avid reader maybe? It may be the same person who changed 'Helland' into 'Bellend' a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps they are working their way through all Cornish place names trying to see what hilarious rude alternatives they can come up with. Any suggestions for the following welcome cos I can't think of any - Boscastle, Bodmin, Delabole, Padstow.

Of course there are some names which don't need alteration and which I believe to be pretty amusing anyway. Favourites include Tresuck, Pencuke (puke) and one which nearly made me crash the car the other day 'Ventongimps'. WTF???? who came up with that?

It's a wonderful life

Oh what a fabulous couple of days I have had. I feel I may burst out of my Cameltoe-inducing leggings at any moment through sheer excitement.

Anyone who doesn't want to hear about how great my life is should re-direct their browser now (Facebook anyone?).

So after a fabulous weekend with lots of family and friend action, my current excitement is professionally rooted following a super brilliant couple of days at work. In fact, I'm loving my job so much I'm thinking of freezing my eggs so I can keep on for years and years raising pots of cash and being uber successful (oh the things we career girls have to worry about).*

As part of my role as a fundraiser, it is important to know what it is I'm fundraising for. I need to get out and experience what it is that motivates people to part with their hard earned cash. So that's what 've been doing, getting out and about.

In the last couple of days, Tank and I have been to a farm near Land's End, the seafront at St Ives (ok, this wasn't strictly work but it was lunchtime and I had a serious batter craving), a tudor mansion and a big blingy castle slap bang in the middle of Dartmoor.

CAN YOU BELIEVE I GET PAID FOR THIS???

The next couple of days may be a little less exciting. Consolidating all of the exciting information currently in my brain into actual projects/workplans/strategies in the office. I would be depressed about this were it not for the fact that I live in Cornwall and that my office is in a rather stunning location. And yes, it's still all a huge novelty.

*Disclaimer - Britney goes west occasionally likes to exaggerate for dramatic effect in a hyperbolic fashion. Please do not take her more controversial comments seriously/hold them against her/get all offended. She'll probably feel different tomorrow!

Back to earth with a bump.

Well hello and happy Burns night to one and all! I would say happy new year but I'm a bit late. Anyway, I'm feeling awfully Scottish following a fabulous honeymoon on the Isle of Skye with my brand spanking new husband (oooh I like that word). What a wonderful start to the year, the most fabulous wedding followed by two weeks of lounging, eating crazy Scottish meat products (Stornoway Black pudding my new favourite food), walking and other erm stimulating activities which shall not be dicussed on my blog.

Slight problem on returning to sunny Cornwall is that I weigh about four stone heavier (due to the three course breakfasts and five course dinners at Kinloch Lodge and the aforementioned meat products, mmmm Haggis) and the London Marathon is 3 MONTHS TOMORROW. I can run a total of six miles. Shit. That's the 'bump' in the title - I'm not pregnant by the way.

So yesterday, I bought some new trainers and some stretchy Beale-inspired pants for motivation. I have also been doing some very effective cross training (the technical term for some kind of exercise other than running) - namely a half hour bike ride and half an hour riding a bloody big mare. Oh yeah - Lollypop was on form today, she knows when I'm losing concentration cos she takes the opportunity to zoom across to the other side of the school and smell her friend's bottom. Charming.

Gem from church this morning. The reading featured a character called 'Ananius'. This is the reason why I refuse to read in church - I would never be able to pronounce all the weird names correctly. Sadly, neither could the reader this morning (completely understandably I add - just in case he is reading). We had 'An anus' several times and once, Ananius was shortened simply to 'Anus'. Genius.

A Christmas Cameltoe

Sorry sorry sorry. I am officially the worst blogger in the world. I could make excuses, but I won't. I'll just make the effort to deliver a really amusing post. This may be difficult as I'm currently watching some vintage Strictly Come Dancing on the TV channel formerly known as UKTV Gold. Apologies therefore if the word 'spangle' randomly appears.

OMG. Aled Jones is about to dance to 'Walking in the air'....

Hahahaha - there's a fat treble....singing to a samba beat.....hahahahaha....talk about a rabbit in the headlights.

Sorry. So here are some Camelford Christmas highlights:

1. Special lighting. Nick has a theory that Homebase is selling an 'exterior weather proof home lighting kit' as SO many people in the area have bedecked their halls with boughs of God knows what. It's a miracle I haven't crashed.

2. My Christmas pudding which I so lovingly made on my first weekend here. I am officially a great cook. Setting the holly sprig on fire perhaps wasn't a highlight but is worth a mention for entertainment value.

3. My Beef Wellington. Who the hell needs turkey? I am a bloody great cook.

4. Clotted cream on everything, particularly mince pies.

5. the Christmas sales in Truro. These actually are not worth a mention as they were crap. However, if you are a size 8 or a size 18, get down to the shops now. There are bargains to be had.

6.Wondering why the hell Truro City Centre smells of cow. Then working out that it's actually my car that smells of cow and in fact probably needs a wash.

7. Making plans to get a (very small) dog!

8. Getting jumped on by a mahoosive dog, which, let's face it was probably a horse. Truly terrifying - why on earth would anyone want a pet like that?

9. Riding a gorgeous horse (called Lollypop) for the first time in 5 years and not forgetting everything I had ever learned. It was even worth the slight embarassment of Lollypop zooming off to the other side of the school to play with one of her friends, who at the time was trying to have a lesson of their own. Also worth the immense pain. My God, I felt like I'd been raped by an elephant.

10. Mouse management. After a terrifying night raid on our food stores, I am delighted to be marrying a man who is a whiz with a stapler and a piece of metal gauze.

And to finish, a CLASSIC (possibly my favourite of the year) quote from our vicar. At the funeral of our darling organist, Buffy, he said:

"Nothing makes me sadder, than the sight of Nick Danks sitting at the organ bench".

Charming. But we knew what he meant.

elusiveness

hi blog followers. Huge apologies for no posts recently. My excuse is thus, in the past 7 days, I have visited:

Bath
Plymouth
London
Dartmouth
Totnes
Exeter
Swindon

I would now like to visit my own bed which I have been missing muchly (due to flu ridden boyfriend).

I'll be back....

Exercise

Before I launch into today's topic 'du jour', I would like to say thank you to everyone who has been so kind about my blog and has told me how much they enjoy reading it. I did say in the first post that I was purely doing this for my own enjoyment and that it wouldn't matter if anyone else read it. Well, honestly, knowing that people are reading and enjoying makes me want to login and write. Much more so than my own motivation. So thank peeps and keep reading.

So I just wanted to make a couple of points about exercise. I love to exercise. Ok..that is slight bollocks. I love to eat. Which means if I don't want to turn into a jabba, I need to exercise. And it helps to enjoy it.

Living in London was logistically easier than living in Cornwall when it comes to fitting in my exercise. A 20 minute walk to work and very few long journeys to exciting, far flung places (Ealing was about as far as I went - though having said that, it is generally quicker to get to Exeter from Cameltoe than it ever did from Central London to Ealing) meant that an exercise routine was easy to incorporate into everyday life.

Other factors make it difficult too. For example, I made an exploratory trip to Camelford pool only to find that there are 4 lane swimming sessions each WEEK! The rest of the time is taken up by kiddies classes, school parties and clubs. Imagine that at the Oasis? Where would those lovely gents in their speedos exert all that pent up energy with only limited opportunities for lane rage? No suggestions in the comments section please - we are all thinking it. No one needs to say it.

Something making it easier is my colleague Julie. Julie is one of those women who lines up at the start of a club organised half marathon to scare the pants off the other competitors. Slim, fit, doesn't hyperventilate up the hills and looks like a total pro in her running gear. While yours truly tries not to die, looking a bit skanky in an old 'Marlow Half Marathon t-shirt' which as regular bed time wear probably shouldn't be seen by my new colleagues.

Anyway shout out to her - she's FAB and is helping me during those first few marathon training runs where 6 miles is tiring, let alone 26 miles.

Ok that's it. And I promise not to bang on about marathon training, I know you've heard it all before.