tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62388543841160777072024-03-13T10:29:09.197-07:00Shoes Pray LoveShoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-85114693594325648192013-08-22T05:28:00.000-07:002013-09-03T06:33:10.015-07:00A Guide Beginners Bartering!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><u>Cusco<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The journey to Cusco was horrendous. We spent the best part of the day traveling only to cover a few hundred miles, the reason being we had to fly back to Lima first (inward groan), go out through customs only to check back in and go through security again, and fly back out to Cusco. I had travelled prepared, at least, and stuffed myself silly at breakfast. As usual I had my backpack full of treats, but so far the sniffer dogs had no interest in them. I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We finally arrived tired and dishevelled, and as soon as my foot set foot on the ground I was breathless. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This had nothing to do with my surroundings. I could only just about breath! If I had known that it was in this state I would remain for the next week, I would have seriously reconsidered!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><u>Those who can teach!</u></strong></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We got to the airport and it was marginal bigger than our previous stop; there were no transfers to our new hotel so we were left to fend for ourselves. Being pre-warned of the extortionate prices the taxi drivers would charge, I was ready for some good old-fashioned haggling. In my country of origin haggling is a national sport, something to be relished, and you are judged by your ability to negotiate the best price possible. In my country of birth, however, most Brits just don’t have the stomach for it. Being brought up on the best of both I was ready and willing; after all I had grown up watching my aunts do it, even in London! I'll never forget the day I offered to take my aunt, who was on holiday shopping for some electrical goods, and watched, at first in horror and embarrassment, which soon turned into pure admiration, as she had managed to knock 10% off the displayed price and got free delivery! The guy even through in an extended warranty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked her how she had the guts to do such a thing and she giggled and said, “Bartering in England is so sweet because it’s not the done thing! You would be surprised to know<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that the shop assistants are more uncomfortable than you were.” She was right. I asked her what if he had said no? And she replied, “A 'no' doesn’t kill you, but knowing you paid more for something you could have paid less for could drive you insane. If you are too scared to hear a 'no' you will never hear a 'yes'!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><u>Tried and Tested</u></strong></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was certainly a turning point in my life of a magnitude one can never explain! From then on it became my mantra: “If you fear the 'no' you will never get a 'yes'!”I have bargained my way through many a situation, including dodgy seats at concerts/theatres/London 2012, flight upgrades, VIP lounges/parties/parking, etc. During the 2012 Olympics I got tickets for the rowing only to find that the tickets I had were standing only, and so far away from the finish line I would have been better of in the pub! Refusing to settle for this I went into a charm offensive and wrangled front row boat house seats, and was rewarded for my efforts by seeing Team GM win its first gold medal in the women’s skulls double! Too many to list, my friends call me a Jammy Dodger (lucky), some would even call me brazened; they can call it what they want, but they are more than happy to reap the benefits! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first thing to do when haggling for a taxi in a foreign country is to figure out what the standard official fair is. You can do this by going to the chauffeur services on air side or land side and making enquires. Once you know what this fare is you have a benchmark in your mind. Outside taxies will try and charge 40% more; your objective should be half of what they quote you. </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><u>The Rules of Engagement!</u></strong> </span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The vendor will go in high for two reasons: 1. if there is someone willing to pay the price they are laughing all the way to the bank and will be trading the war stories for weeks, and 2. it makes allowances for any haggling. As a Ghanaian I will always go in low as it makes the vendor know you are not messing around, and it also gives you wiggle room for the vendor to feel they have one over you! </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><u>Showtime!</u></strong></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, he said 50 sols (5 more than the official cars) and I offered him 15. He balked and came back with 45, out of principal I remained at 15. I must say that this move is not very “sportmanly” and would not recommend it to those new to this sport. Even when it comes to bartering there are rules of etiquette – after all we are in negotiation,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and refusing to budge shows you are not prepared to negotiate. I did it to let him know I knew his first price was too outrageous!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It paid off and he dropped down to 35; I said 20, he said 25, and I accepted. Not because I felt it was a good price, nor because I had lost my nerve; it was purely because I was out of breath! Even speaking was an issue, and so I knew right away that I had lost this battle by the grin on the taxi driver's face. I soon realised why: the actual cost was 12 sols, but in the scheme of things it was nothing. After all, it was only pennies involved, but like I said it’s not the money involved, its purely a sport!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-5670144591699530712013-08-21T05:10:00.000-07:002013-08-21T06:05:05.866-07:00A Tail of Two Cities<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u><strong>Smogtastic Lima</strong></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We stayed at the Miraflores in Lima, which is a lovely 4-star,
however my first impressions of Lima were not at all good. It was crowded,
noisy and covered by a blanket of smog. A real pea souper with hardly any green
open space, and the weather was dull and dreary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We spent 2 days in Lima, which
was more than enough. There’s lots of cathedrals, monasteries and museums to
see; we went to 4 in one afternoon. There were city tours for about 75 soles,
which is around £20 per person. We decided to hire a taxi to give us a tour as
we wanted to see the city at our own pace, which was fast; it cost 150 Soles
for 4 hours. (way to early to haggle!) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Franciscan monastery was
amazing with recently uncovered frescos dating back hundreds of years, and
lavish ceremonial carriages gilded in gold. Bionic woman has a real morbid
streak and loved the catacombs, which I found very disturbing. I can’t imagine
those poor souls realised that when they were dead and buried their bones would
be exhumed and arranged into lovely designs or just heaped in piles for
tourists to come and gawk at; it's cremation for me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An uncoverd Grave</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The architecture was very
interesting; it had a Spanish colonial style to it, and the people were
friendly enough and willing to help a weary traveller. We did get stung by the
taxi driver who offered to take us to a nice restaurant and wait for us to
enjoy our meal; this little friendly offer cost us twice as much as the city
tour. This was our own fault as everybody knows all prices should be negotiated
before the trip, as well as any “kind offers,” but we were tired and weary, so
can be forgiven for this oversight! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7QsVEhoSUYY/UhS3n5o9P4I/AAAAAAAAAWA/IMCotMuyme8/s1600/IMG_20130817_204035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7QsVEhoSUYY/UhS3n5o9P4I/AAAAAAAAAWA/IMCotMuyme8/s320/IMG_20130817_204035.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though the city is on the coast it was more stone beaches as
opposed to sand; but the seafood was amazing, as was all the food in Peru . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the end of the second day we had seen enough and were
ready to depart to Arequipa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<o:p><span lang="EN-US"><strong><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arequipa<o:p></o:p></span></u></strong></span></o:p></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We left for
Arequipa at the crack of dawn: 4:30 a.m. to be precise. I am not a morning
person so needless to say I was out of sorts. The taxi ride to the airport was
a short one and we arrived at the airport in good time. So began the first of
very many domestic flights. We flew with TACO airline which had a fleet of more
sturdier plans as opposed to the tiny little propeller things passing
themselves off as commercial airliners. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check-in was
tedious as we had suitcases and our cumbersome backpacks, mine being 35 litres.
We finally got through the domestic airport and to the departure lounge. By
this point I was starving; unfortunately, there was nothing to be had within
the domestic departure lounge. However, being the African that I am I had come
to Peru prepared with several bags of “choffi.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Choffi is an African delicacy which can only be described as
seasoned<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>deep fried and cured turkey
rear! It’s delicious! Unfortunately for bionic woman, being a vegetarian meant she
had to be content with a dubious cup of coffee until we got to Arequipa. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arequipa is a beautiful
city, also known as the “White City.” It is located at an altitude of 2,328
metres above sea level, and is nested between mountains and a volcano. Of all
the cities we visited it was in fact one of my favourite. On arrival at
Arequipa I was surprised at how basic the airport was; it was like a wedding
marquee, the immigration desk was a box, and customs was a dude who stood behind
what appeared to be a garden table. This did not mean that security was lax; there
were at least 3 sniffer dogs! I prayed for my uneaten choffi! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We stayed in a
hotel called Sonesta Posadas del Inca Arequipa, which was a lovely hotel
ideally located in the town square with all major attractions within walking
distance, with fantastic views of the volcano and a rooftop swimming pool. The
air was nice and crisp and the people were warm and friendly – a far cry from
the pea souper we'd left behind in Lima. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since I was
ravenous I headed straight to the buffet breakfast, which was great! After
being fed and watered I headed straight to bed. The jet lag was no joke. We
spent 2 nights in Arequipa. I was all churched out after Lima and wanted to do
nothing more than read and relax by the pool. I told bionic woman that it was
all part of my acclimatisation; she insisted on a daily work out of 100 squats
and lunges, planking which would make Ms. Carter cry, and her personal
favourite: a gruelling session of abs. I was ready to pass out and saw the
first signs of what the altitude could do to one's fitness. I was a little
concerned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was lots
to do in the city and its surrounds. The activities were mainly extreme sports
-- well, that’s what I judged them to be. White water rafting, volcanic ash
surfing, mountain biking down the volcano, climbing the volcano... We opted out
of all of these on the basis of trying to conserve our energy and to avoid
injury. Besides visiting Santa Catalina we did very little. I did even less. I
purchased my first bag of coca leaves and begun to chew. The leaves did indeed
pep me up a bit. It was becoming apparent, however, that the altitude was gonna
be a bitch!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We left Arequipa,
and to be honest I was sad to leave, or perhaps I was more anxious about
traveling to a higher altitude and, even more so, dreading the trek!!!</span></span><br />
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-91057873534967086572013-08-06T05:58:00.001-07:002013-08-06T05:58:19.272-07:00The Night Before the Big Adventure
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The night before the trip was the hardest, not knowing what
to pack or what to expect, and having a 25 kilo weight allowance on KLM. It was
comical considering all the stuff we had to pack. Imagine having to pack for
all four seasons, plus camping equipment, medical supplies and energy snacks
and having to keep it all under 25 kilos.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Kit list</u></strong> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">N</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">ot wanting the hassle at the airport, I packed the most
sensible suitcase ever, which consisted of:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 fleece tops (necessary) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 fleece suit (essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 thermal suit </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 Dinner dress (you never know!) (not necessary!) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 bikini (necessary) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 sets of gym kit (the sports bra type) (necessary) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 pair of trekking trousers which can be adjusted to shorts
(essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 pair of combat shorts (necessary)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">5 Ccotton shirts (2 short sleeves) (essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6 vest tops(essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6 pairs of socks 3 sport (essential)</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 pairs of walking socks (essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 body warmer (essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 down feather compact coat (necessary) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 waterproof coat with trousers (essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 Pair of walking boots (essential) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 pair of walking shoes (necessary) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 pair of Birkenstocks (necessary) </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 pair of flip-flops (necessary)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After reading about the conditions on the Inca trail I found
the lifesaving tip of packing each outfit in a zip-lock bag and labelling it.
This was definately the most sensible bit of planning, which was well rewarded.
All bound and zip-locked we headed off to Heathrow airport! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We flew Air France/KLM and the flights came in at £980 from
Heathrow to Lima via Charles de Gaulle. The trip took well over 13 hours door
to door. We flew cattle class, but surprisingly it was very comfortable and the
food was good. We left the UK at 0730 a.m. and arrived in our hotel in Lima at 8
p.m. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0b6LjErVAC4/UgDyTXiXboI/AAAAAAAAAVM/668AdhIPikc/s1600/IMG_20130806_135058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0b6LjErVAC4/UgDyTXiXboI/AAAAAAAAAVM/668AdhIPikc/s1600/IMG_20130806_135058.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The travel was exhausting mostly because I hadn’t been
sleeping properly for days prior to our departure. I would<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wake up in the middle of the night in a panic
about the trek and with major concerns about my fitness. My knees had begun to
ache, so I stopped going to the gym for fear of injury. By the time we arrived
I had worked myself into a right old state and was fit for nothing and headed
straight to bed.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xMNflbWP2RY/UgDyQ3Rw3NI/AAAAAAAAAVE/8HD2ZiugiOc/s1600/IMG_20130806_135210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xMNflbWP2RY/UgDyQ3Rw3NI/AAAAAAAAAVE/8HD2ZiugiOc/s1600/IMG_20130806_135210.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We woke up the next morning absolutely starving. I, for one,
was delighted at the prospect of a breakfast buffet; over the years I have
learnt how to work a buffet, and the key for me is speed. It takes 15 minutes
for my body to realise it's full, so as long as I got as much down before this
message left my stomach to my brain I was ready to overindulge! There is a
reason behind this madness: I had lost all the weight I had put on beforehand, and
there were concerns I wouldn’t have enough energy in reserve to cope with the
trek and any little illnesses that might come along. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-90625339878226222022013-07-31T07:52:00.003-07:002013-08-01T02:24:38.829-07:00The world is a wonderful place<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Can I have an extension?<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Please forgive me for my lack of posts I have recently
returned from Peru and whilst I had every intention of real-time posts. The lack
of laptop and sometimes electricity made it harder than anticipated! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NOoisrNvucY/UfkkSJu2DlI/AAAAAAAAAUM/DfNGCCubMHg/s1600/IMG_20130712_185825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NOoisrNvucY/UfkkSJu2DlI/AAAAAAAAAUM/DfNGCCubMHg/s1600/IMG_20130712_185825.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cloud Forest</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am putting all my tales and advice together and will have
it all up shortly in the meantime her are some pictures! <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></u></b></span></div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-42386949070026922532013-06-19T06:07:00.000-07:002013-06-19T06:07:32.580-07:00A Great City
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>On the map</u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have become very fond of
Edinburgh. As far as cities go it is up there with some of the best I’ve been
to. What I like about it most is everything is accessible, and in terms of
numbers of trees per square meter I’m sure it’s quite high up there on the
list. The weather was fantastic and the city is well geared for alfresco dining.
The food is delicious and reasonably priced, which is just as well, as it is
known a Scotsman and his money are seldom parted! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5UKj1ag2r6M/UcGrh2GGgSI/AAAAAAAAAT8/9HXJrIQRzYo/s1600/IMG_20130619_135402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5UKj1ag2r6M/UcGrh2GGgSI/AAAAAAAAAT8/9HXJrIQRzYo/s1600/IMG_20130619_135402.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haggis Neeps and Tatties with whisky sauce</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<strong><u>A tale of a few cities</u></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I cannot say I am well-travelled
within the UK but the few places I have been to include Birmingham, Manchester,
Leeds, Bristol , Swansea and Cardiff. The people I meet in these cities all
seem to be in awe of my capital city credentials, whether they are drawn to the
capital themselves or simply admire the people who live in it. Speaking to the
folks in Edinburgh, as soon as I mention I live in London, they almost look at
you in pity as if to say, “Aah ya poor lass, not to worry you’re here now!”
Its really interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In terms of shops there are the
main shops, which can be found on every High Street in the UK, as well as a
huge number of boutiques, which are a stylists dream! From bespoke kilt shops
to fashionable milliners, I stumbled across this amazing vintage shop where I
could spend the whole day rummaging, finding everything from vintage C&A to
Hobbs (and everything in between). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jLPIl3_fWq8/UcGphEZfS6I/AAAAAAAAATk/IHWrIBebdVs/s1600/IMG_20130619_132049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jLPIl3_fWq8/UcGphEZfS6I/AAAAAAAAATk/IHWrIBebdVs/s1600/IMG_20130619_132049.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An amazing vintage shop</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, Tart knows I have a thing
about churches so he makes a point of taking me to some really pretty ones,
usually for Sunday service but on this occasion we went to Greyfriars to see a
famous grave of the owner of Greyfriars Bobby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l-crfkzUi48/UcGpdEJBpdI/AAAAAAAAATQ/_v2GSobPi2U/s1600/IMG_20130619_131941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l-crfkzUi48/UcGpdEJBpdI/AAAAAAAAATQ/_v2GSobPi2U/s1600/IMG_20130619_131941.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>A Man's best friend</u></strong> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The story goes back to the 1858
when a local policeman, John Gray, known as Auld Jock, adopted a Skye Terrier
to be his guard dog whilst out on patrol. He and the dog were the best of
friends until Auld Jock was taken seriously ill. After a deathbed vigil,
Bobby’s owner sadly past away. Then for the next 14 years Bobby guarded Auld
Jock’s grave until the day he died. It is a true story, a very moving tail on
loyalty; I must be honest my eyes did well up whilst reading about this super
dog. I had a Yorkshire terrier who I absolutely adored and still miss. Terriers
are a lovely breed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After a lovely alfresco lunch we went
off to the whisky festival, which was very interesting with lots of different
whiskies to try (too many, perhaps). I have a new found respect for this drink,
knowing how much time and energy goes into producing the good stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am now converted, and now, after red wine,
whisky is my drink of choice; so long gin and tonic!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-UXTjS7otQ/UcGpftXhS-I/AAAAAAAAATc/mf8JnE-SqL4/s1600/IMG_20130619_132133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-UXTjS7otQ/UcGpftXhS-I/AAAAAAAAATc/mf8JnE-SqL4/s1600/IMG_20130619_132133.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<strong><u>Red Lights</u></strong> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Anyway, Tart had to rush off and
I was chaperoned by his friend Ned, who felt it was essential for me to
experience the other side of their great city. So off we went to the “pubic
triangle.” (I laughed out loud too); this mini red light district is in the
shadows of Edinburgh castle and consists of three exotic dance “clubs” (I use
this term very loosely). Ned insisted we pull a hat trick and visit all three, and
not wanting to be a bad sport I went along with it. The first turned out to be
a tiny pub (20 ft. by 20 ft.) with little cubicles where one-to-one shows were
put on; the next was a want-to-be Stringfellows joint with neon lights and
chrome; the final one was the piece de resistance, as it was very high tech
with TVs, strobe lights and oversized sofas. “WHY ON EARTH WOULD A GOOD
CHRISTIAN GIRL VISIT SUCH AN ESTABLISHMENT,” I hear you cry. It is simple
curiosity. I am curious by nature, so I went along with it. I must say the
ladies were lovely, very friendly whilst I asked them a ton of questions! I
guess I had a stereotype of the ladies who worked in this industry but I have
been proven so wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bNIiymSnXAQ/UcGpjZKTtQI/AAAAAAAAATs/siBrTQXSafg/s1600/IMG_20130619_132243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bNIiymSnXAQ/UcGpjZKTtQI/AAAAAAAAATs/siBrTQXSafg/s1600/IMG_20130619_132243.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a Whisky talk! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All in all it was a lovely stay;
the weather, food and company were all great. Unfortunately, my training has
been put on the backburner, which is pretty bad as I leave for Peru in 5 days!!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;">GULP.</span>Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-55553915208343724672013-06-12T09:07:00.000-07:002013-06-19T05:44:23.836-07:00Timeless Travel<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, I went to hang
out with Tart for a long weekend; a friend of his had some whisky doo in
Edinburgh so were tagging along for fun! I normally fly from Luton or Stansted
to Edinburgh, but if I’m honest I find the hole process very stressful. Coming
from me, a seasoned traveller, it says a lot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I just feel that the attitude is,
if it don’t fly out of Heathrow, anything goes! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3jJzyd0sO6I/UcGgL5IJNAI/AAAAAAAAASM/khrEJB9anH8/s1600/IMG_20130611_080450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3jJzyd0sO6I/UcGgL5IJNAI/AAAAAAAAASM/khrEJB9anH8/s1600/IMG_20130611_080450.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First class cabin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Orange Squash</u></strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">O</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">kay, so my chosen carrier
EASYJET may have something to do with my not-to-fond memories of this journey.
EASYJET, being the Wal-Mart of air travel, really is the pits, with staff whom
can only be described as horrendous!! They take great pleasure in bullying
passengers and letting them know who is boss; you so much as look at them
sideways and they will threaten to take you off the flight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as for their baggage policy, it’s a joke.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u></u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u></u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Bagage Test</u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On one of my trips I had a hold-all
which can be “manipulated” into the little test box they have close by the
entrance of the ramp. So when asked to place my luggage in the test box I
jumped straight to it. It was like a WWF slap down, me taking body slams on my
bag to shoehorn it into this little metal box, which I know has shrunk since my
last journey, in order to demonstrate that my bag is cabin-approved. Eventually
I got the bag in only to be told, “sorry Madame that strap is poking out,” with
my hair sweated out and my make-up running I glared at the girl and snarled, “I
beg your pardon.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must have looked
possessed as she then went on to say, “I shouldn’t really let you on, but on
this occasion I will.” She then stood there waiting expectantly for me to gush
my appreciation for this favour she had bestowed on me! It wasn’t going to
happen. After a 2-minute stare down she gave me my documents and I was able to
board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_njvLnDVFT8/UcGgNJPMCCI/AAAAAAAAASY/2n8_7UHqWt4/s1600/IMG_20130611_080627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_njvLnDVFT8/UcGgNJPMCCI/AAAAAAAAASY/2n8_7UHqWt4/s1600/IMG_20130611_080627.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newcastle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And all this was after going
through security, where I had to face the dreaded pat down, which is an excuse
for some chick to cop a feel, whilst she advises in a loud voice, “I just need
to check your padding properly”!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
bra was a gel one and I was told on good authority that no one could tell by
feeling, but the woman was clearly an expert! I feel used just by recalling the
experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No, no, no, not this time! I am
going by train. Yes you can close your mouths. I took a train to Edinburgh. In
terms of time it takes just over 4 hours, which seems like a lot but with a
door-to-door comparison its about the same. There isn’t much in the cost as I
went 1<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup> class but the experience was simply amazing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1gYOheXdVCk/UcGm71_jHbI/AAAAAAAAATA/TeJLv5RrOJs/s1600/IMG_20130612_165505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1gYOheXdVCk/UcGm71_jHbI/AAAAAAAAATA/TeJLv5RrOJs/s1600/IMG_20130612_165505.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel of the North</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Great Britan</u></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The views were spectacular, almost
like a whirlwind tour of Great Britain. We when through York with its amazing
natural landscape (if you close your eyes when you get to the wind turbines!),
then on to Newcastle with views of Tyne Bridge via The Angel of the North, and
the historic town of Durum. I mean these are places I seldom get to visit, so
to see them all in a day in the comfort of my chair was a real treat.The
service was how it used to be before airlines got greedy with tea and coffee on
tap, with several meals and snacks served throughout the journey. Pack as much
luggage as you like, and no extra charge for golf clubs, and seats that you can
really snuggle up and die in with all the legroom you need. And (at no extra
charge) not to mention wifi and plug sockets! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I arrived at my destination
relaxed and ready for a fun-packed weekend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHBTsCIJeXY/UcGgPK1QBvI/AAAAAAAAASo/2QDA3l5yL_k/s1600/IMG_20130611_080119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BHBTsCIJeXY/UcGgPK1QBvI/AAAAAAAAASo/2QDA3l5yL_k/s1600/IMG_20130611_080119.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scotland</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I would strongly recommend rail as
opposed to domestic flights if you still enjoy creature comforts whilst you
travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-15181049602379245322013-06-04T00:44:00.000-07:002013-06-04T00:44:09.545-07:00Week from Hell<o:p> </o:p>My car needed major repairs and I shelled out the best part
of £200 just to change the battery and reattach the exhaust only for it to be
impounded due to a clerical error on the insurance. Of all places for this to
happen it just had to be south London! You would not believe what I had to go
through to get my car back, having to return twice (80 miles round trip)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as they weren’t sure I was the legal owner
despite them writing to me to tell me I was! During my 2 hour wait to get to
the counter there were no fewer than 2 arrests for disorderly behaviour, and
the cars just kept on being towed in! <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a7zwvvNdbMk/Ua2W3lggADI/AAAAAAAAARg/vUOYtUF8KDI/s1600/IMG_20130604_082011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a7zwvvNdbMk/Ua2W3lggADI/AAAAAAAAARg/vUOYtUF8KDI/s1600/IMG_20130604_082011.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Real shady characters <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The weeks after Barry goes back to school is always a tough
one. Hanging up my Super Mum suit is always a difficult transition. My life all
of a sudden seems so vacuous; it’s a horrid empty feeling. I sometimes curse
those women who lied and said we could have it all. I guess you can if you are
okay with doing it all in a half-baked sort of way, but then I'd be riddled
with guilt at being a crap mum and having a crap career. If you want to be
excellent in at least one of these you have to choose one or the other, work or
family. It is as simple as that. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Unfortunately, as a lone parent you have even less of a
choice: work or live a life relying on the welfare state! This is something I
am strongly against. I sometimes feel like screaming at the “smug married” who
say silly things like, “you don’t have to work such long hours.” Erm, yes I do,
or they will get someone else in to do my job, and probable a man because they
are more “flexible.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prior to me setting
up my own consultancy I used to be surprised at the amount of times meetings
would be set for 4:30pm, but then I would look around the table and see I was
the only woman there and I would be seething, thinking “don’t you realise that
after school club closes at 6pm?”, and “Oh of course you don’t, you have your
lovely wives at home tending to your broods!” Needless to say, when redundancy
was on the table I grabbed it and ran!!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5TGsEB-RRDY/Ua2W6-5h_lI/AAAAAAAAAR4/0PMwPkWGtRE/s1600/IMG_20130604_082354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5TGsEB-RRDY/Ua2W6-5h_lI/AAAAAAAAAR4/0PMwPkWGtRE/s1600/IMG_20130604_082354.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Classic shifts and day dresses </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Another SM (Smug Married) suggestion would be, “Why don’t
you just stay at home?” Erm, and rely on the elves to provide me with food,
electricity, oh and pay my rent? And finally, “You could just get a job in a
supermarket?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a HND, a Degree and
a Masters and you feel I should be stacking shelves? I wouldn’t last a day on
the shop floor; by the end of my shift I would've <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>devised a new process to run the department
more efficiently, delivering 10% savings, and would turn up the next day with
an implementation strategy and no doubt fast track to senior management. Its
what I am trained to do!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ncnNFqwXp1c/Ua2W5i4NktI/AAAAAAAAARw/8dofKrTqxYo/s1600/IMG_20130604_082243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ncnNFqwXp1c/Ua2W5i4NktI/AAAAAAAAARw/8dofKrTqxYo/s1600/IMG_20130604_082243.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Floral and Paisley prints <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But they all can’t be crazy. Perhaps they are right and I am
wrong. Maybe it is time to take up a slower pace of life. Have less and live
more? Its worth a thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought I’d mull over this whilst I go check out this summer’s
Selfridges window display. Enjoy the pictures! </span></div>
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0unGUUmYZTg/Ua2W4tf72WI/AAAAAAAAARo/U1sJQUwBbjw/s1600/IMG_20130604_082200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0unGUUmYZTg/Ua2W4tf72WI/AAAAAAAAARo/U1sJQUwBbjw/s1600/IMG_20130604_082200.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All of the above in neon!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Training is going very well. I have really upped the ante by
increasing my weights and durations. With less than four weeks to go, though,
my nerves are kicking in. </div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-56626369727871886602013-05-24T06:40:00.000-07:002013-05-24T06:40:17.815-07:00One to One<div style="border-bottom: gray 1pt solid; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding-bottom: 2pt; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;">
<div class="underline" style="margin: 2pt 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="PadderBetweenControlandBody" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 6pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, Barry has been in town for the last few weeks, hence my long absence. I love having him home as I love playing Mommy. As a full-time working single mother I seldom get the time. Him schooling abroad has helped, as when is comes home he gets my undivided attention for the duration of his stay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Quality Time<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Surprisingly, and in contrast to the usual mad dash of cramming everything in -- theatre, amusement parks, cinema, museum and art exhibitions, and not forgetting visits to friends across the UK and abroad -- we spent most of his holiday doing absolutely nothing! Being an only child I often buddy him up with a cousin or a good friend, but not this time. All he wanted to do was to hang out with me and do nothing. “Mummy I just want us to stay indoors and watch some TV.” This was an unusual request as we never watch any TV. Ever since he was little we have had a “no TV” policy and have gone months without even having one in the house. We both always used to say we would rather live life than watch imaginary people act theirs. Immediately I could sense that all was not well. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XO09grPjCz0/UZ9srelDN5I/AAAAAAAAARQ/b5GxofDwQDA/s1600/IMG_20130523_140343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XO09grPjCz0/UZ9srelDN5I/AAAAAAAAARQ/b5GxofDwQDA/s1600/IMG_20130523_140343.jpg" height="320" width="320" ya="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meerkat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>True Confessions<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, I indulged him and we snuggled up on the settee and watched TV ('Himalaya' with Michael Palin-- an amazing documentary I must say). We both dosed off and I woke up to the sound of sobbing. I asked him what was the matter and he replied, “I like school and I like Ghana, but I miss you.” It broke my heart to hear my little man so sad; I just wanted to scoop him up and wrap him in cotton wool. When I asked him if it would help if I lived in Accra, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he said no, he would still miss the British way of life! And I totally got it. It must be a huge cultural shock for him; even after a year he misses things he used to take for granted. Feeling a bit shy now at my obvious concern he felt it was time to “man up” and get moving on the day’s activities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I'd like to go on a safari!” he said! Don’t worry Mommy will see to that! Just as well, Chessington World of Adventurers had just opened a brand new 'safari' park. With a bit of imagination we will have a blast! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GnwOM6VbFUA/UZ9sWV2OhVI/AAAAAAAAARI/diMbUfDY9bY/s1600/IMG_20130523_140213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GnwOM6VbFUA/UZ9sWV2OhVI/AAAAAAAAARI/diMbUfDY9bY/s1600/IMG_20130523_140213.jpg" height="320" width="320" ya="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nemo and Dory</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u>Jab Time<o:p></o:p></u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Training has been on hold this week due to my little man being home. There is no way I’m ditching him to hang out in the gym, though I did take him out on a very long walk (5 miles); he complained continuously and insisted we take the car next time! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have a long list of jabs I will need for my trip to the Andes; they include tetanus, hepatitis, yellow fever, typhoid and rabies! Yes, rabies. This was a new one to me until the nurse advised that it won’t stop you from contracting the diseas</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">e, but it will <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stop you foaming at the mouth! I’ve gotten quite used to foaming at the mouth! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-34604678687341470952013-05-07T04:51:00.002-07:002013-05-07T04:54:07.039-07:00Spring in My Step<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
Beyonce was AMAZING! I mean I am no fan, but she showed up on time and did a full 2 hours 15 minutes! She had at least ten costume changes but she never left the stage for more than 3 minutes, unlike other artist who use costume changes as a way to short change the fans. Well done Mrs Carter!<br />
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After close to 5 months of winter, spring has finally arrived! As you know not all countries have seasons; if you live in a country that doesn’t you will never understand what it is like when any season goes on for too long. I suppose it’s a little bit like fashion; take the “Stripper Shoes” for instance. They were great when they first came out, but 3 seasons later we are all a bit tired of hobbling around on sculpted bricks. In the UK we have 4 seasons. Love ‘em, loathe ‘em, it is what we have come to expect and our entire lives revolves around them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Spring: March - May <o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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This is by far my favourite season. Whilst I was in possession of a London postcode (zip code) all spring meant was, “time to put my winter clothes in storage.” However, since motherhood, the call of the Home Counties was far more appealing than the draw of bright lights. Spring time in the counties means out with the winter pansies to make way for lots of daffodils and tulips followed by hyacinth and bluebells. Come May any County lady worth her salt has her hanging baskets prepped and ready to be the envy of the street over the coming months! The weather is rainy over the first two months and sunshine through the latter parts. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sunrise is around 5am and sunset at 7pm. Gargantuan glasses of red wine are traded in for tall, straight glasses of skinny G&T’s. On the shoe front first things first; I always invest in a pair of “Summer Wellington Boots” as rain is the only dead cert, and the brighter and more elaborate the boots, the better. You will be thankful for a conversational piece whilst crowded under a socked gazebo watching the rain gate-crash your BBQ/Sports day/School fete and every other outdoor event you have planned over the next few months. I always play it safe with ballet pumps and patterned shoes with a sneaky pedicure to avoid being caught short. Wearing open toes shoes before May tends to be both risky and risqué, flip flops before June is just plain rude!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<strong>Summer:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>June - August<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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Rumour has it that this season is a myth in the United Kingdom, but I can say on good authority that it exists in some shape or form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly sunny with a few showers, or a complete wash out!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Busy lizzies, geraniums and daisies are the bedding plants of choice with those demure hanging baskets of spring, bursting into an amazing mess of colours, smells and textures overflowing with trailing lobelia. I for one have been struck with hanging basket envy. You think you have got all bases covered with a special colour theme to mark the Royal Wedding/Diamond Jubilee and then it turns out the trend of that year was fruit baskets and you missed the memo. So, come June when your Union Jack themed basket should be making waves everyone has crowded around the strawberry basket with waterfalls of strawberries cascading down! There are sunflowers which, hands down, I am the ruling queen of; poppies are also great and my all-time favourite is <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lavender! <br />
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Sunrise is around 430 am and sets as late as 10pm. My Ghanaian relatives find this most extraordinary when they visit me during the summer as the sun sets between 5 and 6 pm all year round in Ghana. Pimms is the drink of choice; strawberries, cucumber and mint are a must! As are Birkenstock Birkis or any other cork-soled sandals going. I tend to ease up on the heals, instead opting for a more flexible kitten heal or mules. Wedge heals are great but being a size 7/39 they tend to look too clumpy on my feet. What, flip flops? Okay, if you are in spitting distance of a beach or the foot spar! I just can’t think why else you would want to walk around with such a silly noise emulating from your feet! Don’t forget your summer wellies!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Autumn : September - November<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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With the last vestiges of summer clinging on, the striking gladioli in all colours send a sharp warning that fall is nigh. Crisp mornings followed by warm afternoons is the best one can hope for. It’s a terrible time for fashion because it’s too hot for winter cloths and too gloomy to be sporting the bright colours of the previous season, and as for shoes, it is a minefield. Too soon for winter boots and no need for sandals, I stick to stilettos and ankle boots; cowboy boots have become my autumn staple, and they look great with a dress and with trousers. On the garden front we separate the women from the girls: a good hanging basket should still be going!!! It means you have gone the distance, you have staying power and dedication because those baskets demanded it. Those little baskets of pride need to be watered at least twice daily and deadheaded every day. There is nothing worse than coming home after a short summer break to find nothing but brown twigs and tumble weeds rolling around in your baskets. I was close to tears one year as I smugly jumped out of my airport taxi with pull case in tow to be greeted by two very dead hanging baskets and an even deader field mouse my cat had left on my door step as a welcome home gift. Not to mention, my lilies were being ravaged by the deadly lilly bug. Anything which has the ability to turn something so beautiful into stalks of ugly sludge makes me nervous; not to mention they are highly contagious. What must the neighbours have thought!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never mind, I doubled up on my spring bulbs and set the record straight! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sunrise is around 6am and sets at 6pm until the clocks go forward in October, then it sets at 5pm. Drink of choice: anything that’s left over from the BBQs, raffles and tombola wins from the previous season.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Winter: December - February<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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My least favourite season. Summer is all but a distant memory. I couldn’t tell you what’s going on in the garden as my last visit out there would probably have been Halloween. SO WHAT. I am a fair weather gardener and there is no shame in that!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Clothes tend to be tailored, peppered with tweeds and corduroy; any boot will do with the exception of UGG. This is the worse time to live in the United Kingdom. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The sun rises as late as 9am and sets as early as 3:45. I find this so depressing, and throw in ice cold rain and heaps of snow and I’m ready to bail out of this country. I thank God every winter that I have family in Florida and Ghana to visit during these months, else I doubt I'd make it out of hibernation! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Drink of choice is red wine, mulled at Christmas markets, in a big glass at home and with ice and orange juice or as sangria whilst in Ghana! There are many ways to skin a cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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This is how it works and this is how it has always been. We put up with the bad seasons in the hope that the good seasons will return. So you should now understand my indignation when winter has stayed too long! The year is out of sync, the garden is a mess, I don’t know what to wear and I am all out of red wine! <o:p></o:p></div>
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My training is going well, though, and has been a good distraction through the extended winter. I have decided to raise money for charity on my trek as so many people have said they would sponsor me. I have decided to go for a mental health charity, as it is an illness that destroys so many families, families who not only have to cope with the illness but also the negative stigma attached to it. I know of a few big charities but would like to support some of the grass roots ones, so please let me know if you know of any.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until then, I’m raising my first glass of G&T to you all. <o:p></o:p></div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-61718484283503067912013-04-29T05:10:00.002-07:002013-04-29T05:10:19.842-07:00Daylight Robbery<br />
My Heart Beat<o:p></o:p><br />
Barry came home on vacation this week I love having him home, he has grown up so much. I cant wait to see the look of "mummy you did it" when he finds out about his little treat. We spent the afternoon at our local pottery shop I thought a new tea cup should do it !<br />
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Golden Tickets<o:p></o:p><br />
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So I have finaly managed to scoop up some <span style="background: yellow;">Beyonce</span> tickets for her opening night at the London o2 Arena, 3rd row dead centre. I hope it is worth all the £600 I shelled out for the privilege, I know it’s not the “done thing” but I got them off EBAY. The seller was based in Seattle and clearly never had any intention of going, this was a purely money making opportunity which is a shame as the genuine fans miss out. Anyway so long as she shows up on time we will just have to suck it up.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Now what to shoes to wear ......................<br />
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-44964293108367440182013-04-24T00:29:00.000-07:002013-04-24T06:38:20.001-07:00A Dry Run <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
It has been a very busy week playing catch-up and working my butt off - lots of training. Inspired by the London Marathon I felt the need to go out there and do something! I decided on a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>long walk or a mini-trek to get a feel for all the kit I have recently purchased. Since spring has finally decided to make an appearance, what better place to go than the Chilterns? </div>
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The Chiltern Hills are in the Southeast of England and stretch from the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thames in Oxfordshire to the ancient woodlands of Hitchin in Hertfordshire, and it is said to be home to some of the finest countryside in the United Kingdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The area is nationally protected with a variety of walks throughout: h<a href="http://www.visitchilterns.co.uk/"></a><a href="http://www.visitchilterns.co.uk/">ttp://www.visitchilterns.co.uk/</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We opted for the Ridgeway walk, after stopping off at an old steam train station for cream teas.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Pace Maker<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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The walk was amazing with fantastic views of the countryside. Bionic woman rushed off, leaving me and Mimi (bionic woman’s teenage daughter) to plod along, which suited us all fine! It really was a glorious day, so glorious that 90% of the southeast had the same idea as us, or so it seemed, and all ascended or <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>descended on the Chilterns. Bearing in mind that there are some 324 square miles of fantastic countryside, we somehow all seemed to have picked the same mile. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Each to His Own<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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So there we were, slogging it out with man, cyclist and beast for a piece of the countryside; it was like Christmas Eve on Oxford Street! I should have felt right at home, however the worst that can happen on Oxford street is you get mowed down by a group extra-zealous bargain hunters, or at worse a gang of chuggers*, which is nothing compared to being kicked by a galloping horse or sent flying by speeding cyclists in very tight Lycra. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Thank God no such collisions occurred, with the reason being that there was a strict code of conduct at play: the horses took priority for obvious reasons, then people, and then bikes. It worked a treat and everyone was friendly and appreciated the need for cooperation; everyone you we met on the walk said hello and they were more than happy to point us in the right direction when we missed our trail. We ended up doing a 5 mile walk in 3 hours, factoring in lots of cosy chats and a break for a sandwich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Outcome <o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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Despite all my training (DAILY), I was still a little out of breath during the ascents. I also found out that I got dehydrated very quickly, and my walking clothes were way too hot and I ended up stripping down to my vest. One would hope that the weather in the Andes is significantly better than it has been in the UK. If I’m hot over here I imagine I’ll be as hot as the hinges of hell out there; I need to rethink my wardrobe!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am constantly aching, but not in a bad way. If I’m honest the aches are a constant reminder of what I need to achieve. I now workout 6 out of 7 days per week, and alternate my routine so my body never gets used to the pace and keeps working harder. I have put on half a kilo and am now able to increase my weights. Ill be working out at night as Barry is home next week and I don’t want to miss out on any family time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong><span style="background-color: magenta;">STILL NO MRS. CARTER TICKETS</span></strong> Has anyone brought tickets off Ebay before ? was it a good or bad experience? I am so tempted to go down that path.</div>
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*In the UK paid street fundraisers have been nicknamed “chuggers”because usually their tactics of fundraising is viewed as aggressive or invasive (a portmanteau of "charity" and "mugger").<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-89983876783340997832013-04-17T05:21:00.002-07:002013-04-17T05:23:05.729-07:00Superwoman <div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It is so sad watching Baroness Thatcher's funeral my mother always said if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. Politics aside, she operated in a male dominant world whilst retaining her feminine charms, with a handbag collection that is now legendary! She is a Great Britain! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong>Redemption </strong></div>
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So, due to me being totally negligent of my health I managed to ruin Barry’s birthday. Despite me transporting the coolest cake ever to his school, it was still a flop (see previous posts). He is back for the holidays at the end of the month and I absolutely have to redeem myself! I know these are the actions of a guilty parent, but I can’t help myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mrs. Carter</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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I have decided to surprise my little man with tickets to the hottest show in town: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beyoncé’s forthcoming tour. Barry is a die-hard Beyoncé fan and can belt out most of her (and Lady Gaga’s) songs, and has the dance routines down to an art. I know what you are thinking! (Stop it he is my son!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, these tickets were so hot they were cold! They sold out in the UK within 15 minutes and you would stand a better chance of discovering a new planet than bagging these tickets. However, I am determined to pick some up on the fan sites.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am hoping to see Madame B at the O2 in London, which from experience if you can only get seats above the lower tier you may as well wait for the DVD. The O2 arena is huge. However, it is unlike other venues such as Old Trafford, Wembley and the Olympic Stadium, which are built in a way that there are no bad seats. The upper tier at the O2 is deadly, and really does comes with a health warning for those who suffer from vertigo and other height-related disabilities. I went to see the late, great Whitney Houston there and had “heavenly bound” seats, and it's not so much the view as it is the perception; the incline is so steep you feel like you are going to topple over at any moment. I upgraded my seats quick-time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Extortionists </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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I spent the best part of yesterday and most of today trawling through eBay, seatwave, Ticketmaster and FanSnap in a desperate attempt to find some economically enhanced tickets. NO SUCH LUCK. I mean they are there if you are willing to pay more than 5 times the actual price!! But I have to draw the line somewhere; I mean, it’s not the money it’s the principal. How can anyone sell a ticket they brought for £50 for £ 250? And then these websites add on their handling fees of around 15% and it makes me wonder how they get away with it! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have been lucky this year with thickets and managed to snag Michael Buble and Rihanna tickets at face value. I would love to go see the Rolling Stones but I’ll be trekking the Andes. My limit is £500 for 2 lower tier seats. If I shell out any more then I may as well take him to Disneyland Paris for a week!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Barry will go to the ball! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Training </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Meanwhile, my training is going very well. I am now in the gym every day for an hour and I am beginning to see the difference. I do 30 minutes on the cross trainer and 30 minutes on free weights. *******NEWSFLASH****** Arms are the new tummies! Flat stomachs are for little girls, real women have arms to die for! I mean how often do grown women get away with wearing crop tops without looking skanky? Never, but we can flash or arms with impudence!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bye bye baby bingo wings, hello lady guns!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t wait for it to heat up so I can showcase my arms in a halter neck dress! It is such a shame I don’t have a pair of boobs to match :o/ .<o:p></o:p></div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-78883004076258245302013-04-14T23:24:00.002-07:002013-04-14T23:24:58.822-07:00Home Sweet Home <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">I arrived back at Heathrow as always delighted to be home, until I got to customs and saw the glum look on the welcome committees herding round the exit. It dawns on you at such times what you have come back to: cold/rain/snow (circle one), and reality comes crashing down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">After negotiating my way around the illegal taxi drivers touting for business, I headed straight for the valet parking pick-up point. My car arrived within minutes but had gained an 18 inch crack on its windscreen. Even then, visibility was remarkably better than the rental “Boatman” had procured for me in Accra.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">You know how sometimes you get “that” feeling, or that little voice in your head that tells you NO? For goodness sakes, listen to it. “Boatman” was a nightmare. I don’t know what he was expecting, but since he never got it he turned into the loathsome person I knew he could be. He started raking up old news, whining about the deposit he lost on the engagement ring and trying to squeeze £100 out of me. Can you imagine? To think that I nearly married that Muppet. I shudder at the thought and say a prayer to the good Lord for delivering me from such evil!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">I was running late to the airport, though since I was on Africa time I could hardly call it late! Anyway, he was eager to get a reaction from me ahead of my departure and instructed the driver to abandon me and my oversized suitcases at the side of the road, all because I was 20 minutes late. Who could be so cruel? Now, as far as he was concerned, I was left destitute by the roadside, still recovering from malaria, and about to miss my flight. Unbeknownst to him, however, his kindhearted driver made sure I got to the airport in good time whilst we bitched about his boss!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">I had a feeling our rekindled friendship would be more trouble than it was worth. I have since trashed his number...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">So, not quite feeling 100% and still concerned about malaria, I hot-footed my way to the Hospital of Tropical Diseases near Tottenham Court Road. After 6 hours I got the all clear. It would have been done sooner, but they needed a few samples and I am no good at “preforming on demand!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>eventually got what we needed, though, and I could put my mind at ease. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">By this point I was totally exhausted and realised I had done very little training in the 5 days I was away, and that made me feel even worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was snowing, cold and wet, but armed with a cuppa (cup of tea) and a Hobnob (cookie) I was at peace, and realised there still is no place like home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-67697110119823055392013-04-10T04:17:00.000-07:002013-04-10T04:17:43.704-07:00Touch down <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I landed at Kotoka International airport and “Boatman” was there to meet me, and he looked a hot mess! No longer the well-polished slick businessman, he looked tired and </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black;">wizened, wearing a faded shirt with much worn elbows; he had clearly stumbled on hard times. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;">I smiled sweetly as he embraced with me, and I made a big show of air kisses trying to keep my distance. After lots of faffing around we got to the car and loaded it with my back- breaking suitcases, and I delicately placed my well-travelled birthday cake on the passenger seat. And then spent the best part of 20 minutes trying to figure out how the vehicle worked. As always, Boatman didn’t </span>have a clue; Boatman doesn’t drive as he has a penchant for “grown up juice.” It is probably for the best; he is a functioning alcoholic and would put all our lives at risk. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In hindsight, perhaps my peace offing of a 20-year old single malt whisky was not the best idea. I had already figured that out when on receipt of the gift he said he would stop off at the filling station for some Coke. Anyway. I finally managed to get the car going and made my way home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When Barry’s big day arrived we had planned to spend the day at the beach with his cousins whom he hadn’t seen for a while, but unfortunately the day before I was taken ill. Whilst at the airport I had been bitten by a few mosquitoes; ordinarily this isn’t a problem, and to be honest I never take anti-malarial tablets simple because I fly to Ghana on average 4 times a year, but this time it was different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Prior to my trip I had watched this heart-wrenching BBC movie “Mary and Martha” starring Hillary Swank. This mini-movie was based on a true story about two mothers who lost their sons to malaria. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was inconsolable by the end of the movie, and I found the newspaper article which told the story of one of the sons who had travelled to Ghana to teach children in the village schools. After seeing how ill the children were getting he gave his own tablets to the children as he felt their needs were greater. Unfortunately, on his return home he had flu-like symptoms and died shortly after. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www.cultbox.co.uk/reviews/episodes/6263-mary-and-martha-review">http://www.cultbox.co.uk/reviews/episodes/6263-mary-and-martha-review<o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, when in the morning I felt a little heady, and by evening the ache had developed into throbbing behind the eyes, I didn’t hang about. I went straight to the pharmacy and got myself some malaria tablets. The only thing is, they make you feel so much worse! They brought out the fever - night sweats – and I got so hot I had to sleep on a mat outside (with even more mosquitoes). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On the morning of Barry’s Birthday I was a sweaty heap of body parts lying on the veranda. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This put a halt to all birthday celebrations, which made me feel even worse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have some major making-up to do! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The bottom line is: malaria is no joke, so be sure to take precautions!!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-91029169265463026802013-04-09T00:15:00.002-07:002013-04-11T05:01:03.617-07:00Doors to Manual <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> <strong>Birthday Boy</strong></o:p></div>
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So, it is my son’s birthday this week and I am flying out to spend his birthday with him. Barry schools abroad in Ghana. Ghana? I hear you gasp; yes you heard right: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ghana. He used to go to school in the UK but I didn’t feel that the discipline, nor the content, was adequate enough. I know all mothers say this but my son is a very clever boy, so clever that he soon realised by misbehaving in class he got to spend half an hour in the corridor doing whatever he chose. He would be sent out of his class for the most minor offences like answering a question without putting his hand up, or when asked by his teacher to tell a joke telling an inappropriate one. Aren’t all jokes inappropriate? Why a school teacher should ask a pupil to tell a joke is beyond me, especially when the teaching of times tables has been omitted from the national curriculum. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, at its height he would be sent out 3 times a day, more than 8 hours a week, despite my objections. The last straw was when I was called into school on a “serious matter.” Barry had told another child in his class that should he tell lies Jesus would shoot an arrow from Heaven at them. At this, I roared with laughter. I was swiftly cautioned that they take threats like this very seriously. Well, that's what you get when you stop having morning assembly! So, I made the same tough decision that my parents made with me, to school abroad.<br />
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Ghana is a wonderful place, filled with wonderful people. As a former British colony they retained the old grammar school system where children are taught to respect their elders and understand the importance of education, as opposed to somewhere to keep the kids whilst the parents are at work. I also feel it is important for him to understand his heritage, which is culturally rich. He has gotten over the initial shock of being away from his mother and has adjusted quite nicely.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><strong>Super Mum! </strong></o:p></div>
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Barry is into Moshi Monsters, so I’ve got him a fab cake, which is proving to be mission impossible to transport. Perhaps the 3 inch stilettos weren’t the best idea! Neither, I am beginning to feel, was my decision to allow contact with “Boatman.” Boatman is my ex-fiancé who has communication issues and a drink problem to boot. I’ll save this tale for another day, but to cut a long story short he felt that I should pay for the deposit he lost on my engagement ring when he called the wedding off! (Some people have no shame!) I have not spoken to him for 2 years, however he has started dropping me the occasional line to say hello, and seems to have matured. I have asked him to hook me up with a rental for the duration of my trip, thus he will be meeting me at the airport with said car. My stomach is doing flips in the bad sort of way. </div>
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Terminal 5 sucks as I can’t use any of the airport lounges, and I can’t do much shopping with a giant purple cake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My phone's out of juice so it is just me and my wedge of a book, Hilary Mantel's <i>Bring Up the Bodies</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Training is on hold this week, as I’m away, but I hope to do a mini trek when I get to Accra.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Time to board! I hope the food is good.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-24233305487814137502013-04-04T05:12:00.000-07:002013-04-11T04:59:43.768-07:00Time To Panic <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p><strong><u>The quest is over </u></strong></o:p></div>
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I have found the most comfortable pair of boots and I don’t care what they look like! Thank you all for your suggestions. I tried most and finally settled on a pair of Regatta ISOTEX; they are waterproof, breathable, as light as a feather, and as structured as a corset. Yes, they are very unattractive; they look huge on my feet and the clumpiest shoes I have ever owned.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It doesn’t help being a UK size 7 (I hear the clown theme tune playing in my head with every step); I have tripped up on my own feet several times. It’s like learning to walk all over again because your ankles are strapped in so tightly its nearly impossible to move, though no complaints from me. I’ve been told it will be my saying grace!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have 100 days to “bond” with my boots and bond we will!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong><u>The Expert<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></u></strong></div>
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I was up at “Tart’s” this weekend to “road test” the shoes and I learnt the following:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>I am not as fit as I need to be <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>“Tart” has a sadistic streak <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>My boots are fine<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Tart” was very impressed with my hiking gear though less impressed with my “modifications” (I wore a long skirt over my base layers - totally impractical).We decided to take a very long stroll and our first stop was some very steep steps. Now, I haven’t mentioned before but “Tart” is a seasoned traveller and has been on many adventures, from geocaching in in Japan to cycling through Bolivian rainforest, he has even trekked through the Himalayas to base camp at Everest. Naturally, he has done the Inca trail, and has been my authoritative voice throughout. For example, when he found out I’d be renting a sleeping bag for the duration he was mortified and compared it to sharing a toothbrush with a complete stranger! Now, when you look at it like that it is pretty gross!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then went on to say he took all his own camping gear and carried it himself! He couldn’t bear to use a porter – not authentic enough. Now, coming from a proud Scotsman I kind of understand him wanting to be like the great explorer Livingston. Coming from a city slicker like me it just sounds stupid! Bring on the porters!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong><u>Test Drive <o:p></o:p></u></strong></div>
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So, it's Saturday morning and we are up and ready to go on a comfortable stroll...well, so I thought till he had me running up and down the steepest, slipperiest steps he could find; as soon as I got to the top he would say, “now times that by 1000 and that’s half of the trek!” I could have cried! He then proceeded to take me for a walk along the pier from which we then proceeded to climb down onto what could only be described as the surface of the moon packed with sharp objects, seaweed, smothered rocks and whatever else the sea had washed in over the last few hundred years. In short it was a death trap and he loved every minute of my fear! At<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> one point I was sprawled out like a spider too frightened to move whilst he pranced from rock to rock like a squirrel. Realising I was lagging behind he shouted, “perhaps you should make it an 6 day trek,” as opposed to the customary 4 day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I felt he had gone too far he would retort, “I’m only getting you ready for your trek baby.” At this rate, Ill be dead before I get there! <o:p></o:p></div>
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The boots, on the other hand, held up to the challenge. They stayed dry when I slipped into a tide pool, kept my ankles intact when I slipped on the steps, and most importantly they carried on breathing when all I wanted to do was the total opposite! </div>
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<strong><u>Breakfast in bed <o:p></o:p></u></strong></div>
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All was forgiven when "Tart" presented me with breakfast in bed the following day, which is bloody lucky as I just didn’t have the strength to go downstairs and get it myself. Everything hurts which is very down heartening as I thought the training was going well I dread to think what will happen when the altitude kicks in. I need to up my game.........................</div>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-50696463522811197472013-03-25T10:00:00.000-07:002013-04-11T04:59:06.506-07:00The Long WalkLet it snow, let it snow, let it snow<br />
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We have been plagued in the UK with some very unseasonable weather which has put a chill on my training. I woke up on Saturday looked out of the window and though sod it! and went back to sleep, thus missing my Bodycon class and coffee with bionic woman in the gym café.<br />
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After the 4th “where are you?” phone call I reluctantly dragged on my gym kit and headed off to the gym once in there it really wasn’t so bad. I did 30 minutes on the cross trainer and a 30 minutes “run” on the treadmill on a steep incline and 10 minutes on the free weights! Not bad I thought.<br />
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We went back to bionic woman’s place where I rustled up a lovely wild mushroom risotto, where we got down to business of practical training. We decided to start at a local national park the next day.<br />
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So we set off at the next day and it was like trekking through Siberia. I am currently reading The Long Walk and I can only imagine what it must be like. Anyway we had to abandon our walk not because of inclement weather no we were chased out of the park by a herd of deer with a very large stag rearing on us! I could of kissed him! I was frozen and wanted nothing more than a Costa hot chocolate (with all the trimmings) and my favourite chair! I’m in training for the Andes not the Himalayas.<br />
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Well Try again this week when spring decides to show up!!!<br />
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-77105729648334764192013-03-22T06:10:00.000-07:002013-04-23T00:16:39.179-07:00A Shoe for Every Season<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
I have recently started buying sensible clothes; by this I mean outdoor clothes, and it is almost as life-changing as actually going to the gym! This has come about since I started dating my special friend, “The Tart,” who enjoys outdoor pursuits, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but also <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in preparation for my trek. Tart lives in a charming little fishing town in Scotland, which is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to; I mean, the view from his dining table is breathtaking. Anyway, after my 2<sup>nd</sup> visit I started to notice the double takes of my shoe candy, and not in the appreciative way that I am used to when I am in the big city. No, the looks tended to be more of a quizzical, almost comical, glares at my shoes. Then I noticed they all had on some sort of stout boot, be it Walking, Wellington or Fishing! Then I checked out their clothing and it was all the dull and outdoorsy, at which I couldn’t help but crinkle my nose. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<strong><u>Town mouse, Country mouse!</u></strong> <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fast forward 6 months, and I can’t get enough of the stuff! Its warm, cosy and has halved my dry cleaning bill. Outdoor clothes are still some of the ugliest clothing you will ever buy, but for the comfort it provides I’m sold! There must be some trendy outdoor clothes out there, or by the very definition must they be drab? Answers on a post card please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have now been introduced to “base layering” which means 3 thin layers for complete insulation, meaning you can hide the sensible stuff underneath regular stuff which is a win-win situation: no more “internal shivering” when out on sea front walks!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now there's <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>only one problem: shoes! <o:p></o:p></div>
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As a retired shoe-a- holic (I say retired simply because I no longer go out and buy the first, second and third pair of shoes that makes my hart skip a beat) I think shoes are great works of art and I am in possession of a very extensive collection. I am too embarrassed to count, but at its peak I had in excess of 400 pairs! Though I must confess I had no show pieces; I wore all of my shoes, even the ones in the wrong size! But I just had to have ‘em. I have been “on the wagon” for the last 5 years, though my collection has grown its purely because I do not have the heart to throw away most of my old shoes! They hold oh-so-many memories. I can pick up any one of my shoes and have a tale to tell about them. If my shoes could talk the would make Oprah look like an amateur! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I am of the opinion that if you can only have one pair of shoes then make sure it is a red stiletto! Skinny jeans, white shirt, red stiletto; pinstripe suite, blue blouse, red stiletto; the little black dress, fishnet tights, and, yes, your trusted red stiletto! Be it casual, official or formal your red stiletto has got your back!</div>
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I am now desperately searching for a pair of hiking boots as I need to break them in a good few months before we leave for the Andes. I thought it could be a task my bionic woman and I could endure together, but even she has a well-worn pair. My mother always used to say “It hurts to be pretty,” and if your shoes are too comfortable then something is wrong! I have never bought a pair of shoes using the following parameters<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span>Waterproof<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span>Lightweight<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span>Breathable <o:p></o:p></div>
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And why would I? If it rains stay indoors, if you want light weight wear flip-flops, and if you want breathable go bare foot and that is that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well, it’s not really; if I can’t find a good walking boot then I can’t do the trek and that really is that, and time is fast running out. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I need serious help………………………..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-54535361989560863122013-03-15T01:21:00.002-07:002013-04-24T00:31:43.420-07:00Let's Get Physical<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Personal Trainer<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am a strong believer that if a job is worth doing then it should be done properly! So, I have just re-joined this super-duper gym in town. Now, I did say I am not an exercise type person but it has never stopped me from joining the odd gym or two. I’ve been a member at David Lloyds, Esporta, Virgin Active, LA Fitness and Holmes Place (now that is a blast from the past!). But my current independent gym is the real deal; its light years ahead of the others I’ve been to, although I’m no expert. It’s clean, friendly, and everything is done by electronic key! So no fumbling for padlock and keys for lockers, or note pads and paper to note progress, and no more pressing buttons to set up equipment; it’s all done with your key, so NO EXCUSES!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve “kind of” got a personal trainer for two reasons, other than just having one because “bionic woman” has one whom, I must say, she swears by. I need one because I have no idea what any of the equipment in the room do<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>es, and because I am competitive as hell. When left to my own devices I do things when I’m good and ready; having a 6’ 6” oiled Johnny Bravo-type beefcake standing over me barking can only be a push in the right direction! <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, I’m ready, hooked up with my state-of-the-art trainers I got whilst out in the States, and a slim-fitted work-out kit; I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and am surprised to see a sporty athlete staring back at me. What a fraud! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get to the Gym and I kind of know my way around, and I meet up with my trainer and to be honest we were both a little surprised. The image of my imagined 6’ 6” beefcake vanished and was replaced by his leaner, shorter unoiled brother!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Judging by his expression he obviously expected to see a nervous, plus-size lady, this was confirmed when he said “Your application form says you never work out and collapse after a flight of stairs.” Knowing the show I was about to put on, I told him honestly that looks are very deceiving but thankfully he missed the double entendre.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, I was asked to hit the treadmill at a comfortable pace for 10 minutes to warm up. I expertly walked over to the treadmill, set it to 3, and walked my butt off! After what seemed like ages (but was really only 3 minutes) in the machine began to beep and flash at me with a huge red heart pulsating in the corner, and the words in bold text, “HEART RATE TWO HIGH.” I looked over to my left just in time to see the guy two treads down from me smirk as he sprinted on like a gazelle. I simple took my hand of the pulse plates and took it all in stride (no pun intended) whilst my chest felt like it was going to explode! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Seven minutes in and “Johnny” comes over looking very dismayed at my lack of pace. Before he could say anything I told him that I’d speed up for the last few minutes, at which he seemed satisfied and stood back to watch my big finale. At this point, though, I had no juice in my engine to crawl those last 3 minutes, let alone sprint it. Buying for time I reached for my water bottle to take two long swigs and cranked it up to 5.5. I looked at Johnny, who didn’t seem impressed, so I pushed up one more time but unfortunately my hands were trembling so I accidentally double-tapped it to 7. Now he seemed satisfied. After 10 seconds in at this pace I was ready to call it a day. I couldn’t think of anything other than the pain in my sides and the burning in my chest, but then my friendly gazelle decided to speed up <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and it was on! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Keeping his pace, I eventually felt comfortable enough to let go of the safety bar and pump my arms as he was doing. The pain was so excruciating I wished for death; it never came, and I refused to give up, pass out or pee myself (which I was at the point of doing, honestly). Then, suddenly, I could no longer feel the pain; it just vanished. All I could think of was my gazelle and the 90 seconds left on the timer. It was the longest 90 seconds I can ever remember, and then there were more beeps and I thought: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crumbs, what now? Are the charging the defibrillator ready to shock me back to life?</i> Then, as if God had heard my cries, he answered, no doubt me being one of his favourites he chose not smite me as previously requested. He probably felt it was way too Old Testament for this swanky gym. No he merely slowed the machine down, and then I realised it was finally over. My ordeal/audition was finally over. I looked at Johnny, who seemed unenthused, and casually stepped off the treadmill. My legs felt like jelly. I then excused myself and headed to the ladies to be violently sick! <o:p></o:p></div>
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But at least I’d done it; at least I’d stayed on the treadmill for as long as I was supposed to<span style="font-size: x-small;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtvB3j3wqXA/UULZudnIAsI/AAAAAAAAACw/Nr62e6QmrMQ/s1600/IMG_20121014_055137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZtvB3j3wqXA/UULZudnIAsI/AAAAAAAAACw/Nr62e6QmrMQ/s1600/IMG_20121014_055137.jpg" height="320" psa="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the southbank </td></tr>
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<br />Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238854384116077707.post-3487304821185371822013-03-14T06:54:00.001-07:002013-04-11T04:55:50.162-07:00Always the journey <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Case </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Okay, so I am a thirty-something woman who has given a whole new meaning to the term “couch potato.” My idea of exercise is driving a manual car as opposed to my normal automatic. I wouldn’t say I am lazy, but I avoid strenuous activity at all cost. I have on occasion stood friends up because I got as far as their foyer, only to realise the lift was out of order!!! (She lived on the 22nd floor! Can you blame me?) I simply telephoned from the comfort of my car and advise them I would not be coming over. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have even refused to stay in some lovely hotels simply because they had no lifts, which on reflection was a shame because I love historic buildings. I just love the ones with lifts more! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Most of my friends understand my total aversion to any sort of excise, which is odd because my closest friend and travel companion is a gym extremist! (I call her the bionic woman.) Honestly, I don’t know how she puts up with me. Actually, now that I think about it, I do: we compromise. She hits the gym while I hit the buffet hall. Its as simple as that! On one of our golfing holidays I was mortified to find the buffet had closed before I had eaten, and almost refused to tee off that day! Being the love that she is, she smuggled out a packed lunch for me before she swam 20 lengths of the Olympic sized pool!!! <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">My Defence </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Fortunately for me I am one of those people who is naturally slim, though I have learnt very quickly that thin does not equate to fit! Slim and fit are two totally different things! I love food. I love <b><i>good</i></b> food, which is a blessing and a curse - it’s a curse because when I find a fabulous restaurant (such as AQUA, Welwyn) I do it to death (5 times a week!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- but if there is no good food or good company I'll eat what I must to survive, which happens to be very little.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Previously, my hair was a huge obstacle to doing anything remotely physical as it took so long to whip it into shape. I'd be dammed to have it sweat out for any reason. This is no longer an issue since, as of November, I have liberated myself from my hair after being shown the light from my special friend ‘Tart.’ Tart couldn’t understand why I'd force my hair into doing something it doesn’t do naturally, or why I'd want to look like something I wasn’t; then the penny dropped and I cancelled my fortnightly trip to the salon @ £95 a pop plus 5 precious hours of my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My favourite pastime is reading; I read on average 6 to 8 books each month, most on audio as I have such a long commute into work, I tend to visit some of the places, and try the food, explore the culture, featured many of the books I read. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Gulliver, but I do have a very curious mind. Most recently, bionic woman recommended I read a book titled “A Book of Human Skin” and it was amazing. We decided our next holiday should be to Peru to do the Inca trail, which I agreed to before I realised it was 24k trek through the Andes through some very tricky terrain! Still, my word is my bond and a promise is a promise!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The ruling </b><o:p></o:p></div>
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After doing the research I learned that the trek is considered “moderate to strenuous” with a minimum of 6<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hours hiking per day over the course of 4 days. The guides say you should be able to climb a minimum of 2000 stairs and fast-walk 10 kilometres as a benchmark, but then you must make allowances for the altitude! I AM DOOMED. I can’t manage 5% of this basic level of fitness. Its time for change!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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With all this extra time on my hands, and all this extra money from allowing my hair to grow feral, I decided to visit this place they call “the gym” and begin my training.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I'm 4 weeks into my journey and decided to do something else I've been meaning to do for years: BLOG.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Its a Sign!</td></tr>
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Shoes Pray Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00080278683607320781noreply@blogger.com0