Tokyo

Bob the builder

The bloody effing jeffing service industry in this country in non-effing believable. Imagine...

You go to Curry's on Christmas Eve to order a new fridge, plus installation, plus taking away the old crappy smelly one.

Aforesaid fridge arrives. Do they de-install the old one? Do they install the new one? Do they take away the decrepit fridge-freezer? Do they lift one grubby finger to help a young woman and her mother with the seemingly impossible task of doing it all themselves? Do they hell.

Enter Princess Fix-It. Many of you may not have met her before, but in the absence of a man in the house, I occassionally have to do the unthinkable and evolve into a DIY diva. In this case, as my mother so kindly put it while I was bent over backwards and tottering under the weight of the thing, "those big muscles of yours are finally doing some good!". Admittedly we had to call an electrician to sort out the wiring, but the two of us managed somehow to swap two 6-foot fridges around and I had a lot of fun smashing through wall panels with a hammer, dungarees and a hard-hat (I kid you not). 

And I didn't even break a nail. Who needs men anyway - PAH!

Les Halfu

Quick photie of the Thacker boys, who I have known since I was even more knee-high to a grasshopper. Good friends, great crowd and way too many mojitos!

It's all soo quiet.....

Shhh.....shhhh....and so peaceful until....

The Christmas crew arrives. Naturally though, until they do, it just won't feel like Christmas (as I haven't opened any pressies yet!)

Good thing I left early...

Banker suspended after tussle at City party

A high-flying banker who dressed as a chav for a Christmas fancy-dress party has been suspended after a fight with a colleague in a dalmatian costume.

The man, dressed from top to toe in Burberry check - as favoured by chavs - scuffled with another worker.

They clashed in the lavatory at the City firm's annual party after the "dalmatian" asked the "chav" - who was disappointed after he had failed to get a promotion - if he was alright.

The pair, both analysts within the bank's research teams, reportedly scuffled in front of four of the company's partners as tempers frayed.

One source said the banker in Burberry has since been suspended from his job. "He was a really good bloke," said one observer. "He is a nice guy. It is really unfortunate for him."

Party Season

So, yes, I have had my first ever wanker banker Christmas parteh! I should have been scared, I should have been more careful, I should have left earlier.

To fill those of you who haven't heard in, the theme (in typical finance-world sexist stylee) was Footballer's Wives. This naturally translates into men arriving in a suit, perhaps with (gasp!) sunglasses to "complete" the look, and the girls arriving practically naked. Seeing as I was the new chick on the block, I decided to play it safe and covered up the booty, but went all out with the big hair, big nails and bling factor.

It started off as it was to end, with new arrivals being faced with a compulsary vodka luge shot, chased with a glass of Bollinger. As you can imagine, the evening wore on with free-flowing alcohol and a quite remarkable dearth of canapes and anything that would help soak up the booze.

Fast forward to 1AM and the secretaries are up on the tables, I am dirty-dancing (oooooooh the shame...) with my BOSS and all thoughts of attempting to remain respectable during what could be seen as my debutante ball were thrown out of the window with every humiliating and over-excited gyration.

The taxi-ride back was equally surreal as I shared with two girls I didn't know, who worked across the floor. I sat there is appreciative silence while one told me that she took great offence to firstly, being groped, and secondly, having her skirt (read: belt) lifted up when "they knew I didn't have any underwear on!". ...Pardon....

Having to get up at 5AM to go to work didn't help much either.....The pics below are in order of inebriation.

Downtime - not!

After spectacularly failing my exam last week, I was ready for another two weeks of depression and a dearth of social activity in the run-up to Christmas. However, it seems that someone up there loves me as the examiners are on holiday until the middle of January! Helllooooooooo christmas parties....

The first of which was spent at uber-snotty Annabel's in Berkeley Square. I was told 'no jeans' so I strutted up to the door in leather. After arguing with the doorman for ten minutes and wondering what all the fuss was about I eventually was rescued by my friend who was one of the illustrious members. After stalking haughtily past the aforementioned doorman, I suddenly felt like a fish out of water and gasping for breath. Turns out that the men are all in smoking jackets and the women are in (er-hem) DRESSES. I'm not talking funky little numbers here. I am talking satin and floor length. But did the Princess falter?? Absolutely bloody not. Not only did I rip up the dance floor in my spray-on trousers with wild abandon, but I also took a turn at being the DJ! Admittedly I was 'mixing' exclusively Christina and Britney, but the crowd loved it.

In typical perfect timing, one of my best friends Caca arrived for a weekend from New York. Cue late night gossip sessions and the most wonderful feeling of togetherness. God, I miss my girls.

In other news, got a shock when I went to get lunch in the canteen today to discover they had converted it into a Christmas bonanza for employee's kids. Santa's grotto, bucking bronco, bouncy castle,face-painting AND an indoor ice-skating rink! Totally nuts but made me wish I was seven years old.

Thursday is the office Christmas bash - dress code: footballer's wives. I promise to take piccies and report back.

En plus....

Forgot to mention that it seems as though my 4-day trip to New York over New Year's will also comprise of a 24-hr stint at the beach in Miami! WOOHOO!

Which may or may not involve a party hosted by DKNY male models. Now won't THAT make a nice change from London! Bring on the eye-candy (even though they may all be gay).

Thank Gawd

Exam over! Hoorah, hoorah (unless I have to take it again). But ladies and gents, this Princess couldn't give two shits. I am just so happy that the run-in is over, my hormones seem to have stabilised and I am back on the happy trail.

Amongst all the pre-exam drama, I even managed to make my way over to Hackney for one of Poochie's infamous parties. Read- you can forget about getting to sleep before 5AM. Fabulous food, fabulous company and board-game fight to the death. Piccies below:

Health Warning

Self-indulgent, depressing ranting below. But it's also very personal, so if you're going to be cynical you can piss off! (So there :-p)

There's something about December

I don't know if it's the incessant cheesy Christmas jingles combined with the dreary weather and miserable citizens of London, but there is something about December that depresses me beyond words. It doesn't help that I guess I am pretty lonely and in one of those self-analytical moods that usually ends with me watching a heart-wrenching movie so that I can trigger a much-needed bawl!

For the past month, my life has revolved solely around my job. I have no time for my friends, no time for my family, and I thought I had no time for those people in my life who make me happy and remind me to love myself for myself. The result is that one day pre-exam, I don't really care that much about work any more. My priorities have been so skewed out of proportion and I have spent unfeasable amounts of energy convincing myself that I am a tough woman who is financially and emotionally independent, and who can survive on her own. The truth is that I'm not, and I no longer have any misplaced qualms about admitting it. As we all know, being in love and letting someone behind your carefully constructed walls is sometimes the most frightening thing in the world. This year, I have been hurt more than I have in the past 23 years combined and it led to the knee-jerk reaction of isolating myself in a method of self-preservation. Yet somehow going to bed at night and wanting to scream because you feel you have so much to give and nobody to give it to is worse. 

Within my little brain are pieces of advice that I've been given this year, tousling with each other like sumo wrestlers on speed:

From Boo - "God's greatest curse and also his greatest gift to mankind was enabling them to forget pain. This means they can move on, but they can also let themselves get hurt over and over."

From B - "Pure emotional independence is empowering. But it's also one of the saddest things I can imagine".

From P - "I go to bed alone every night, but I am never lonely because during the day I am surrounded by friends, and I have someone who loves me; ME!"

From Mum - "If you never learn to survive entirely on your own, you will always be dependent on someone who has the potential to hurt you"

From Dad - "Living without being dependent on someone is totally over-rated" (now do we see why they got divorced???)

Life-altering one-liners on a post-card please. No pressure!