Holiday dressing and how most Brits get it terribly wrong (at least those who frequent Mallorca do)

Many things I saw on my recent holiday to Mallorca made me ashamed to be British. Particularly people's clothing choices. I swear most people have a 'holiday wardrobe' which is stuffed away in the back of the wardrobe until it is brought out in time for the annual Spanish jaunt.

Here is my top ten chart of 'Brits abroad' fashion disasters. Warning, please do not read if you're easily offended. This post may contain elements of body fascism.

10. Gypsy tops. A key part of the costumes worn by 90's pop group Steps and featured in some of Girls Aloud's early photo shoots (Kimberley the demure cow girl anyone?). For those that cannot recall, we're talking wide, elasticated neckline (so lots of sexy 'off the shoulder' possibilities), wide elasticated waistband (so lots of opportunities to wear as a crop top thus displaying some tanned midriff) with a big poofy bit in the middle. Bascially, great for making you look fat. A favourite of the 'mutton' clan.

9. Body con. The resort we stayed in was a huge family resort. Great as there were very few lager louts. Even nicer to see lots of teenage children holidaying with their parents, how civilised, I really hope that my future children will love their parents enough to want to holiday with them beyond the age of 13. Having said that, there was a glut of 15 year old Cheryl Cole wannabes, all in body con. Holiday with your parents by all means, but trust me, your Dad does not need to see your undercarriage. And neither do I.

8. White. Yes I know, it shows off a tan. Blah blah, not if you're sunburned it doesn't, it makes you look like an overweight lobster pseudo-bride. Plus I can see your (lack of) undies.

7. String bikinis. Only for those aged 16 -30, absolutely not for anyone of any age with a d cup or over. Demi Moore is obviously exempt from these rules.

6. Speedos. Obviously no comment needed here.

5. Deck shoes. A controversial one this as some people in the world are actually cool enough to get away with these. My good friend Captain soon to be Major Charnock wears his rather well (I have to say this else he'll mow me down with his tank), I should imagine my husband's supremely cool cousins or Sarah Crabtree would wear them very well, maybe with a floaty skirt and a couple of layered vests. I'm probably just jealous cos I'm not one of these cool people, being of the large footed variety I should imagine I would just look like, well a middle class, suburban, never been on a deck in your life bloke actually. Sadly, not many of the people in Majorca weren't cool enough for deck shoes either. I think, unless you're one of the people mentioned above, or you actually own a yacht, don't go there.

4. Jelly Shoes. For the under tens only. Sorry to be ageist here but I just want you to look cool.

3. Wife beaters. Not good on men of any age. Unless perhaps you're gay and very fit.

2. Jumpsuits. I experimented with a jumpsuit this year. I saw it, loved it and bought it. it's black with pink flowers and I still love it. I would still wear it were it not for the fact that it makes me look fat and dumpy. And I'm 5"8. I loved Lily Allen's Glasto jumpsuit (complete with Jacko tribute white glove) but she still looked fat and dumpy and she's a size 8! Fearne Cotton manages to look fat and dumpy in a jumpsuit - how how how??? My favourite jumpsuit on show in Mallorca was bright yellow, very stretchy, strapless and clearly very cheap as it was see-through and showed up all the cellulite on the wearer's thighs. Tip, if you want to show off every lump, bump and bodily imperfection, definitely go for a jumpsuit.

1. Obesity. Because in a Spanish heatwave where temperatures are going 40 degrees plus, there's a hell of a lot of it on show and my God it's actually quite shocking. Particularly in children. Particularly where they are sunburned as well. Never mind swine flu, visit any major holiday resort and you will uncover a much greater and more worrying health problem, and not all of it you can blame on an undeactive thyroid. I was (bar this one AMAZING looking woman who had at least two children and abs of steel, I wanted to run over and bow down), the fittest person there! Ridiculous, I mean, I'm hardly in the running to be a contender on Gladiators, one look at Hang Tough would have me running for the hills. I blame the 'all inclusive' culture. I mean, when is it ever ok to start on the pints at 10am, in 40 degree heat? And no, a portion of chips is not a 'snack', it's two days' fat allowance! Rant rant rant I know but I think it's important. Like the NHS isn't stretched enough as it is without Fatty McBurgerlover and his entire family taking up beds with obesity related illnesses and sunstroke. If unable to resist the snack bar people, then cover it up. Get a kaftan or a moo moo or something.

To end on a positive note, here are ten things I think look cool on holidays. Wear them with pride, along with your factor 30 of course:

10. Bright coloured dresses

9. White cotton shirts

8. Denim hotpants (though approach with care...mutton/thigh chafe being common hazards)

7. Havaianas

6. Board shorts

5. Bikinis with built in support and proper straps!

4. Big hats, big sunglasses

3. Maxidresses (though not in white unless you like the ethereal virgin look)

2. Chunky jewellery

1. Nautical stripes (with or without deck shoes, see above)

Boot camp

I have signed up to do a six week 'beach body boot camp'. The general reaction from around 100% of the people I've told has been "why"? I take this as a complement, clearly they think I don't need a beach body boot camp. How flattering. I'm not really sure why to be honest. I think I was on a bit of a marathon high when I signed up. The nature of the task ahead didn't really register until I got a scary email in my inbox from Mike, the instigator of this terrifying programme and actual real life Ken doll complete with tango tan and eyeliner. Some choice quotes from this email included:

"I want you to know right from the start, how much I truly want you to succeed at achieving the body you desire. Now that you know I really do care about you, it is time for me to reveal my more aggressive, “No Excuse Accepted” side. Just remember that I am unloading the can of harsh reality on you because it is for your own good."

"It’s the kick in the butt that you need right now to get you going. I promise that I will return back to my more fun loving and comforting self after the course is over. At that point I will light the fire under your butt that will lead you to unstoppable motivation and inspiration and you will thank me for opening your eyes to what has been holding you back all these years."

"There are no lame, pathetic, weak excuses about why you are overweight and unhealthy."

Aaaaaggggghhhhhhh!!!!!

Despite this I started on Monday morning at 7am. Just to fill you in, the boot camp runs for six weeks, 7am Monday to Friday, one hour a day and regular scrutiny of diet sheets and weigh ins (that's the bit for the fatties, I'm not doing the weigh ins or the diet. I'm still baking cakes, though I'm not sure Mike is fully aware of this fact yet).

All started fine, a 2 mile run on the flat - total doss, I was flying, like a fat bloke following an ice cream van. Worryingly, this was followed by a horrific British Military fitness style circuits sesh. Oh how I ached afterwards and am still aching now. My cockiness soon disappeared.

My confidence ebbed lower following two conversations. The first with Pat, a fellow boot camper. Pat is about 70, super fit with a proper Grandad tan - as my colleague remarked this morning, he's probably spent every day in the sun for the last 40 years covered in baby oil. His tan makes Mike look like the weird albino stalker from The Bodyguard. Honestly, I thought Newcastle was the tan capital of the world, not Bodmin. So anyway, Pat and I have been doing the running together. And he's actually a really lovely bloke. Post session today, the confidence sapping conversation went a little like this:

Pat: So, why are you doing this then, to tone up or lose weight?
Me: Erm...actually, I just really like exercising
Pat: How much do you weigh?
Me: Eleven stone. Always have done, hopefully always will
Pat: Yes, you've got a good pair of hips on you
Me: Well (a little stunned but suprisingly unoffended), I suppose I am a normal, pear shaped human being. I actually like to eat.
Pat: what do you eat? A lot of bread? chocolate?
Me: Not really? I eat a lot, but I eat well, lots of vegetables and stuff (blatantly lying now)
Pat: you'll probably find that you do lose a few pounds doing this. You're quite tall I suppose.
Me: Ok. erm...yes, 5"8.
Pat: bye then, see you tomorrow
Me: See ya Pat

The second such conversation came from Liz, Senior Administrator and general office Mum

Liz wanders into my office. She looks very concerned.

Liz: Are you ok?
Me: Yes, fine thanks
Liz: It's just you shuffled past the reception area earlier looking like a little old woman
Me: Oh. right. it's just, I'm doing this beach body boot camp at the moment and can't really walk.
Liz: Be careful you don't turn into one of those tiny little Russian athletes who ends up with arthritis by the age of 30 (I think she's referring to gymnasts?)
Me: Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that happening. I'm fine, really, thanks for asking.
Liz: glad you're ok. I honestly thought you were poorly.

So from one extreme to another. Pat thinks I have too much junk in my trunk, Liz is concerned that i'm wasting away and will be in a wheelchair in a couple of years.

Are they totally mad or actually is my exercise regime becoming a little extreme? For a moment, I thought about it. Then stopped worrying, because I live in Cornwall and we chill out down here. Anyway, I have four coastal trail half marathons to train for. No time for stressing.

And just in case you're wondering about that 'harsh can of reality', it's really not that bad. Mike is great - a fantastic trainer, very motivational and inspiring. Guess I am addicted...

quote of the day

Have just realised that my last post was rather self indulgent and didn't really really adhere to this blog's constitution (which would be 'for the purpose of reporting on life in Cameltoe through the eyes of an incoming city person). So here's my Cornwall moment of the day. BTW, it's totally true and un-made up.

Walking past a shop in Wadebridge, I was delighted to see the following sign in the window:

"Would the lady who was here on Tuesday afternoon requesting the large Golly please come in. I now have one in stock."

musing...

So here we are at the May bank holiday weekend. I'm sad to report there was no donkey at the Palm Sunday service last month, just a rather half arsed procession around the church yard singing 'Ride on Ride on in Majesty' about four times, completely out of time with Nick who had pumped up the organ to full pelt in the vain hope that we might actually hear it and stay in time. Needless to say, we did not.

Following my amazing success at the London Marathon last weekend (no. I didn't win, but it felt like I did), I have been thinking about achievement, ambition and generally living life to the full (or 'eating life' as a good friend of mine so appropriately puts it). Most of us have appraisals and personal development plans at work, but I guess we rarely actually have these for our lives in general. Which I guess means that most of us live year to year and then look back and think bugger. What have I been doing with my life! Not me - I'm all about eating life, but just to make sure I don't miss anything, I thought I would make a things to do before I'm 30 list.

By the way, a mate of mine did this on her blog and someone dug it up and read it out at her work's leaving party. Also, I've included some things I've already done, to make me feel better about the ones I haven't done. Treat it as a fun guessing game...

Here goes, in no particular order, things I, Caroline Joanna Danks would like to have done before I hit 30:

1. Run at least one London Marathon
2. Run a marathon in less than 4 hours 30 minutes
3. Know what it feels like to weigh 10 stone (as an adult - obviously, I have weighed less than this before in my life)
4. Stand up on a surfboard, unaided and actually look cool whilst doing it
5. Sing solo at a famous person's memorial service in the presence of other famous people
6. Have a solo rectial advertised in The Times
7. Have my photo taken for Playboy
8. Marry the love of my life
9. Go to Australia
10. Get some kind of health and fitness teaching qualification
11. Jump a fence at a fast and gallopy pace (on a horse that is)
12. Run a half marathon in 1 hour 50 minutes or less
13. Buy my own flat
14. Be a bridesmaid
15. Become a godmother
16. Become a mother
17. Write a novel (regardless of whether or not its actually any good)
18. Learn to play the piano
19. Have the word 'manager' in my job title
20. Open a savings account and put something in it!

Right. That's my list done. I'm off to write my novel...

Spring has sprung, the lambs are getting fat and there's a bloody big bird making strange parroty noises outside my kitchen window. Greetings from sunny Cameltoe on this fine Palm Sunday. The weekend (and past few weeks) in fact have been one fabulous Camelly blur. Super busy as usual. I honestly thought that by moving down here, I would have more time on my hands and I do I suppose, it's just that I like to fill that time with exciting things. Hence the busyness.

Some exciting things that have happened in my world recently:

1. I have only 1 long run to go before my marathon training is complete. Bring it on - 20 miles on Friday, here we go.

2. There are Pheasants everywhere, and they are so stupid. It's no wonder there are dead versions lying around everywhere. I felt slightly bad for one which was lying upturned in a hedge with its little legs akimbo - clearly it had bounced off someone's bonnet!

3. London people have been to visit! And how great it has been to catch up with members of the English Touring Opera cast and band and also with Cat and her family.

4. Speaking of English Touring Opera - how brilliant it is to go to the opera, sit 5 rows from the front and pay only £20 per ticket. Who needs Covent Garden?

5. My BlackBerry. Means I can work from the beach. Which means that life is sweet.

6. It is the Easter hols. So suddenly there are people everywhere. Polzeath was rammed with sloaney types yesterday wearing various nautical themed items of clothing and discussing how often they let out their big houses when they're not here. Mustn't slag off the Emmits though. I was one once (not one with a big house though).

Off to church in a mo. I'm hoping very much for a donkey (as we;re by the sea and all). If not a donkey then at least a horse.

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.

Church and possibly too much information

I love going to church in Cornwall. There is something quite simple (not in a 'special' way!) and honest and well, sometimes slightly chaotic about it.

Two classic moments this morning. First had to be quote of the day from James, one of the new curates who after the sermon said:

"Thank you Dick for your words, and also for the dead bum".

Dick is the other curate in case you were wondering, and maybe his sermon was slightly longer than average. I don't personally remember having a dead bum. I did however lose the use of my toes as there was no apparent heating in the building and it was bloody cold.

The other observation I made was that I think for the first time in my life, I witnessed the first candle on the Advent wreath being lit with a fag lighter. More disturbing I think was the fact that the 9 year old girl doing the lighting knew how to use a fag lighter.

Classic. How will I ever get bored here?

By the way, apologies for not posting any pictures yet. I will try and do some this week. I've had a bit of a spot problem (in that I look a bit like I've got herpes) - the stress of moving combined with chronic PMS meant that I have been shying away from the camera for the past week or so. And I panicked and spent £52 on Dermalogica products. Not that you actually want to see any pics of me anyway...

Just to confirm, I HAVEN'T got herpes.

Pinching myself

What a fabulous week so far. Super busy and not actually spending much time in the office. I think it may well continue this way.

Spent the first part of the week discovering The National Trust's super cool head office in Swindon. Not only is it a totally open plan, modern, carbon neutral, green-tastic space, but it's opposite a designer shopping outlet. Heaven. Being pay day, I thought it only right to spend some money expanding my country-living appropriate wardrobe, buying some thermals and tweedy trousers. Also got my Daniel Craig calendar so am looking forward to getting some shelves in my newly painted office so I can stick Daniel up in a suitable spot (no pun intended).

Obviously, I was not in Swindon purely for the shopping but also to meet the rest of the fundraising team. What a fabulously inspiring bunch of individuals. I feel like I'm really going to fit in.

I actually just realised how bad that last sentence sounds....thought I would leave it though. For comedy's sake!

Today I visited Godolphin House -as a mahoosive 'Poldark' fan, this was like a mini pilgrimage for me. It is not yet open to the public as it is in a state of quite severe disrepair. Getting a personalised tour from the Property Manager was a very special experience. I can't quite believe I get paid for this!

One downside - it rained a lot and my once white Converse trainers are now brown and soaking in a bucket in the kitchen. When I started fundraising, didn't think it would involve hoofing over fences and getting wet and muddy. Brilliant stuff, so long as I remember my wellies next time.

First week at work

So I thought that moving to Cameltoe would mean that I would have plenty of time on my hands to write in my blog, go for long walks along the beach and generally hang out with my 6 friends (oh yes - that's 6 whole friends). How wrong was I? Life is so very busy and will probably continue to get busier - there is just so much to do and so little time.

So I can't write about EVERYTHING here - you would quite simply get bored. Thought I'd give you a few highlights. By the way, a friend said they would like my blog to be a little more positive. Trust me people, I am having a ball here - I LOVE Cameltoe and never want to leave. Just didn't want to make you feel bad....

Caroline's top ten Cameltoe highlights from the last week:

1. Driving across Bodmin Moor to work with beautiful sunrises to look at (yes, I did nearly drive into a sheep whilst admiring the view).

2. My places of work - look them up on the National Trust website - Cothele, Killerton and Lanhydrock houses. Wow.

3. Being allowed a Daniel Craig calendar in my (slightly less politically correct than before) office. Yum.

4. Getting my new shelves fitted and finally being able to unpack some boxes.

5. Trebarwith Strand at dusk.

6. Friendly people and awesome accents - particularly one individual who greeted me yesterday with "alright my lovely!" (imagine in very strong Devonian accent). Brilliant.

7. My new car! Quite simply the biggest thing have ever driven. Our office manager was slightly concerned by my reaction (which went something like "Bloody Hell! How the hell am I going to park that) so insisted she accompany me on a test drive round the grounds. Fortunatelyy, we met no other cars. I have surprised myself - I thought I didn't want a Dad-mobile but am already rather attached and have named him 'Tank'.

8. Not having to queue in Sainsbury's. Then being able to load my purchases into Tank's gargantuan boot rather than struggling with arsey commuters on the number 59.

9. Not needing a light in my bedroom on a clear night. It's all about the moon (no, not my buttcheeks)

10. My new Narnia DVD. I understand these are not exclusive to Cameltoe but I love it nonetheless.

So I hope this doesn't sound too gloaty. Expect a depressing post in a couple of weeks when it has rained constanly, I am missing my London friends and have crashed Tank into a hedge.

Lots of love!

xxx

typo..

Obviously I meant Timmy the dog. Soz....

YAY!

Firstly, let me point out that I am slightly drunk so therefore will not make tihs a long post. Have been driving around all day - from my office just outside Bodmin, to Exeter (to pick up Nick and catch a movie - James Bond...mmmmmmmmmm), then home again. Driving in Cornwall is not so easy, I cannot get used to how dark it is and more scarily, how misty it is up on the moors (I feel like I'm in the famous Five, only immy the dog can smell his way out of this one). Subsequently, my glass and a half of wine has gone to my head very quickly.

So what I really wanted to say was WOO-HOO! I have three people following my blog. Cannot contain my excitement. I may indeed wee.

Ok. Time to sign off now. Keep 'following' you blog stalkers you!

xxx

First post

Firstly let me say that I was slightly reticent to set this blog up. Blogs, I believe are generally rather self indulgent pieces of propaganda, only of interest to those actually writing them (though having said that, I'm bored and LOVE writing so bring it on!). Let's face it, I'm not the first person to move 300 miles from home, get married, start a new job and do her third London Marathon in the space of 5 months (to give you a flavour of what future posts might include). Or maybe I am?

So it is with reluctance that I begin to chart my journey, at the insistence of my gorgeous friends who treated me to the most fantastic and delicious farewell lunch on Sunday. And how things have changed since then..

We drove through the night on Sunday/Monday. Ok Nick drove. He is a night owl and decided it would be far less stressful to drive the potentially 6 hour journey starting at 10pm rather than fight it out the next morning in the hellish London/Bristol traffic. There was nothing on the roads and it was a smooth journey punctuated with a few double espressos and a box of mini macaroons I had bought from Paul earlier that day.

The moon got bigger and paler the further west we went and eventually sunk beneath Dartmoor at about 3am. We arrived at around 4.15am. Mission accomplished!



3 observations since moving to Cameltoe:

1. There are very few actual Cornish people here. Most I've spoken to are emigrants, the nice lady in the fruit and veg shop who moved from Reading 20 years ago and reluctanty returns occasionally to visit family, the carpenter who came to measure the flat for storage units who also used to live in Berkshire; my lovely friends Gill and Jon who so kindly fed me up with apple pie yesterday (and are from Worcestershire). It's reassuring that I'm not the only one.

2. It's spectacularly freezing. I think I underestimated the difference between living in a small flat surrounded by fifty others and living in a slightly larger flat on a hill surrounded by nothing but open countryside and cold winds. Subsequently, I am wearing two t-shirts, a cardigan, a fleece, jeans, slipper socks and uggs. And I have the heating on.

3. It hasn't quite hit me yet. I feel like I'm on holiday and will at some point have to step through the door in the air (sorry - keep forgetting I'm not actually in Narnia) and back to Paddington station and real life. Maybe my first day at work tomorrow will go some way towards changing that...