4 Days to pain

It is the 3rd of October. That means in 4 days time I am going to run the Cologne Marathon. It seems that from the discussions I have had with others I should be a lot more nervous than I am.

My training has not gone quite as well as I had planned. Partly due to work commitments and partly due to my lack of commitment to the cause. However, I can run 13 miles. I've no idea if I can run any further because I haven't tried. I'm thinking in hindsight that I perhaps should have singed up for a half.

Oh well, It's done now. At 12.00 on Sunday (German time) I will be setting off around Cologne and hope to return by 5pm. We shall see how it goes.....

Yeah man!

Greetings from Jamaica!

I'm here on business promoting a dictionary we have tailor-made for the Caribbean market. It's a tough job but someone's got to do it. No honestly, having just fought off a throat virus then moved house last weekend, I must say that I wasn't relishing the idea of flying off for a week in Kingston, Jamaica, staying over the weekend in order to get a cheap flight with the prospect of spending the weekend locked in my hotel room due to the advice of my boss to "not leave the hotel alone!" I know it sounds middle-aged and ungrateful but I was actually looking forward to spending this weekend in our flat!

The check-in process at Heathrow only served to fuel my frustration. 1 hour of filing round an inept queuing system, extended families checking in en masse, a 50 minute delay...woe is me! But saviour came in the form of a 6ft Jamaican girl named Siobhan. She was flustered at being last on the plane delayed at check-in because she had two 40kg suitcases which needed lightening! After convincing her that she wasn't sweating, didn't smell and probably could do without that ninth pair of shoes she had had to leave behind, she took me under her wing and we were instant friends.

Flying with Air Jamaica is an absolute must if you want to immerse yourself in the Jamaican culture as soon as you've left the tarmac. I have never known anything like it. Apparently it's the only airline in the world to offer unlimited free champagne. In spite of this, most people seemed to have bought a bottle of duty free rum and happily whiled away the hours wandering around chatting to anyone and everyone. I have never known a group of people so at ease with each other and this was my first experience of hearing patois.

At first I thought they were speaking a different language. I could pick out the odd word and phrase but the rest just went totally over my head. Siobhan gave me a crash course in it but I am also the proud owner of Popular Jamaican Phrases so I now feel that with the following phrases I can get by:
•If I overindulge on the rum in the presence of customers, I can ask for 'mannish wata' to sober me up. (Unfortunately this would mean consuming soup made with a goat's head...also reputed to increase a man's virility!?!)
• Should I wish to alert the attention of people whose name I don't know, I can simply cry 'Peel head' if the guy is bald or 'belly a front, belly a back' if the person has a rather substantial paunch and backside.
There are also some colourful phrases in the book which I'm not sure I would need on this trip let alone ever! If all else failed I could just reply 'Yeah man' to everything.

I was well looked after by the bookstores who gave a very thorough tour of Kingston whenever we drove anywhere. I was shown sights such as the Society for the Blind, the Canadian Embassy, Courts the furniture shop...all the famous places you read about in the guide books!

I was taken for some great meals but possibly the most surreal came after having driven down a dark road in the pouring rain for 40 minutes with the financial director of one bookstore only to arrive at the Jamaican equivalent of MacDonalds; Island Grill. We then conducted a semi-serious meeting only for me to realise that I was eating a fallic fritter called a 'festival' whilst talking to him about his dictionary order.

Unfortunately it rained every day I was there and always in the evening when I might have wanted to swim (or more realistically just lounge by the pool.) Instead I sought refuge in the hotel gym which was in fact just a tent by the pool which leaked a lot! There was never anyone else in there so I had total control over the air con and TV and could also sing to my heart's content with my iPod.

Overall it was a fantastic experience. I met some great people, ate shed loads of prawns, saw some amazing sights(!)...oh yeah, and hopefully sold some dictionaries.

New Beginnings

Hooray!! After a lot of hard work by Anna (and none from me) we are now the proud owners and residents of our new 7th floor flat in Southfields with panoramic views of London.

We moved in on Saturday which was pretty easy because we didn't have much stuff as nearly everything we own is in our house in Essex. Never mind. The Tesco range of value kitchen goods has seen us right and the previous owner left the fridge, freezer, sofa (Which has a lot of stains!?!?) and a wardrobe. These along with our sofa bed have turned it quickly in to a minimalist home. We do lack some major items. Namely a washing machine and a cooker but hopefully these will be sorted out next weekend.

We were greatly looking forward to welcoming our first visitor. However, we didn't expect it to be the TV license inspector. He came to check we didn't have a TV and then sold us a licence for when we do have one (hopefully also next weekend). Our first real visitor was Anna's brother Simon.

The new flat means a different commute for both of us. Anna has cut her journey time down from almost and hour and a half to about 30 mins. I'm now flying in and out of Heathrow which means my days with Stansted are done and I also don't have to fly budget airlines. Oh the joy of having an assigned seat. I will however miss all of my Stansted friends....yeah right.

The Office Summer Party

I am writing this at half past eleven at night on the train home a little worse for wears. I have just attended my first office party...in the office. It wasn't like 'The Office' where you are literally partying around your desks and photocopying private parts. It was held in the atrium which when you look up at the surrounding offices reminds me of a cross between a cruise ship and a shopping centre.

The theme was Carry on Camping. Suggestions please for possible costumes as nobody dressed up. We were all slightly confused by that one. I didn't feel that I had been there long enough to don a Barbara Windsor green bikini.

(I am now resuming this blog at 8:30 the morning after the night before.) The atrium was decorated with 2 open tents, some chairs, sun loungers, a few open umbrellas... and bunting! More village fete/queen's jubilee methinks? Still free food and drink was in abundance as the ground floor cafe was transformed for the event. It amused me no end to see the 3 floor to ceiling fridges - usually filled with healthy (ie, rabbit) food such as cucumber sticks wrapped in leaf of lettuce or selection of dried fruit on a bed of dried muesli and other such mouthwatering snacks - replaced with bottles of Carlsberg!

I don't think I embarrassed myself too much and I definitely didn't photocopy anything that shouldn't be photocopied. Perhaps my most cringeable moment was when I revealed to a large group of people my bitter disappointment at not having won the 'Name Jason Donovan's autobiography' competition after having thought about it all weekend and submitting about 20 possible contenders. My boss felt he had to give me a hug as the rest of the group fell about laughing. There's no need for that.

Flat out

It's been a crazy week. I am the most stressed I've been since I was teaching. The reason....our grand plans to be property tycoons.

Rhod and I decided that we would try to buy a second property - a flat in London that we would live in for a couple of years then sell on and make a fortune!? (Hmmm.) Rhod trusted me to view the flat on my own last Monday and going on my description over the phone gave me the go ahead to place the offer the following day. After some skilful bartering (gained from haggling over books with customers all day every day) we had our offer accepted on a flat in Southfields.

That was the fun part. What follows is the stressful part. Since last Wednesday I have spoken to 5 different solicitors, 1 patronising estate agent, 3 different financial advisors and approximately ten different people from the bank. What a delightful group of people to have to speak to everyday.

I think my conversations with various employees from my bank in a Birmingham call centre have been my favourite. On Monday it took phonecalls from 9 til 5 to find out the fax number to which I needed to send letters from our employers stating our salaries and subsequently to get a confirmation that they had been received. I never actually got to speak to the lady dealing with my application but I was told that she would be phoning me first thing yesterday. After refusing to put the phone down until I spoke to her I was on hold for 51 minutes while she was on another call. One of her colleagues then came on the phone and told me that she had just signed off her computer and was going to lunch. I flipped. I demanded her manager's number ("We can't give out that information madam") and that if she hadn't phoned me by 2 o'clock I would create merry hell. At 2:20 I gave in and phoned and miracle of miracles actually got straight through to her. "Oh hi Miss Finn, how are you?" F#*@ing livid is what I was but I resorted to a pathetic "Why didn't you call?" and continued in a frosty sarcastic tone throughout. I could have throttled her. She then had the audacity to say that she was posting me forms today but they might have missed today's post. I ended with "Well considering this phonecall should have taken place at 9am I expect to see it on my doormat tomorrow morning!" AAAHHHHHH!

Solicitors are just vile full stop (apart from my godfather who seems to have escaped the smarmy deceitful mercenary circle that most of them fall into.) It's the 2 hour lunch break that really gets to me though - enough time for a quick 9 holes and a good lunch. Never speak to them in the afternoons as they are either in a foul mood at having had a poor round or are even more smug at having won. It sickens me to see the breakdown of fees - as if they aren't charging us enough already they also want 35 quid plus VAT for a bank telegraphic transfer fee! What's wrong with a cheque I ask you? Sickening.

I am actually going to have to stop writing now as I am on the train on the way to work and I can already feel my blood pressure rising and am experiencing mild palpatations!

Let the countdown begin

Yesterday - June 21st- marked a year to the day until Rhod and I get married. So effectively it was our minus one year anniversary. I mused at the prospect of how one should celebrate such a day. Maybe someone should take away a paper item you own. Who knows?

I decided to celebrate it by pausing at several points throughout the afternoon and wondering what might be occuring that same time next year. Eg. At 1:10, will I have tripped over my dress in an unceremonious style whilst walking down the aisle towards my future intended? At 2:30, will I have spilt champagne all over me whilst the wedding car pulls away? At 5:00, will we have started eating yet as I'll no doubt be starving as always and in need of something to soak up the drink? At 8:20 will a child have started crying yet because it's been a "long day" and they're now tired and showing off? At 10:40 will my Dad be doing any 'dad dancing'? On that thought I fell asleep.

Who knows how the day will turn out? I've got a year to wait and see. Now where's that piece of paper gone?

Thank you for flying German wings

I don't have as many facebook friends as Anna. I've given this some thought and have come to the conclusion that this is probably a fair reflection of reality. But I do have aeroplane and airport friends and you can't really put a price on that friendship.

I fly Germanwings. It's a low cost German carrier so think Ryan Air or Easy jet but with Airbus planes as the Germans like to keep it local.

I am aware of the importance of advertising in the world. I am also aware that it is important to target your customers. I fly on a Monday morning wearing a suit. So do the majority, lets say 80% to use a completely made up statistic, of the other travellers. We, me and my friends who aren't on facebook, fly from London (yeah right) Stansted to Cologne. When I arrive in Cologne I am "looking forward" to work. I spring out of my seat desperate to get to work (desperate to get through passport control and to baggage claim first). Unfortunately before I am released from the plane I have to take my piece of Germanwings advertising.

The first time I was intrigued. Handed a pink latex thing in a clear plastic bag some strange thoughts ran through my head. On the bus to the terminal the suspense was too great so I ripped it open.

A beach ball! What the @#&* am I going to do in with a beach ball? Cologne, to my knowledge is not even near a beach and is certainly not famous for it's holiday resorts.

So my current collection of Beach balls is as follows. I gave one to my colleague who was going on holiday with his kids. There is one in my bedroom that I occasionally kick around. There is also one in my parents garden. Finally I keep 2 (still packed, obviously) in my laptop bag so that I am prepared for a rainy day/special occasion/emergency (delete as appropriate).

I think 5 is as many as I'm going to get. I can't wait to see the next form of advertising media.

The new love of my life

It was bound to happen. New jobs, new lives...it was only a matter of time before we found new love. This would explain the complete abandonment of this blogsite in recent weeks. But we're not ashamed. When you find new love you want to spend every waking minute with that person and Rhod and I both realise that it was worth putting wedding plans and house buying plans on hold while we grapple with this new hold on our lives. It's time you all knew...we are in love with a website called Facebook!

It has taken over my life, no seriously, it has, and it hasn't helped that my company endorses its employees using it during work time in order that we all"embrace the digital age." For those of you who don't know what I'm going on about, Facebook is a website which allows you to create your own profile and build up a network of friends and keep up to date with what's going on in their lives and their friends' lives. You can change your status, create your own groups, add photo albums and embarrass friends by 'tagging' them and if you're feeling frisky you can even 'poke' them! All you need to do to start is register your name and upload a photo of yourself. (Ok even the photo isn't compulsory but it sure helps, especially if you happen to be called John Smith.) It's Friends Reunited but without the ludicrous annual subscription. It's become a bit of a race between Rhod and I to see who has the most friends on Facebook. I won't say who's winning...huh hum. Oh and did I mention that it's incredibly addictive.

So if you haven't joined yet, stop reading this tripe and go to www.facebook.com now. We'll be waiting for you!

A big fat greek wedding

I'm a man involved (perhaps not as much as I should be) in the planning of a wedding. My contributions to the planning of this event have, so far, been fairly theoretical and I am working towards making a more tangible/valuable contribution.

Now choosing your wedding guests is a challenging tasks. I had a conversation with one of my friends who is soon to be married where he raised the often-thought-never-asked question, "Is it wrong to drop your cousins from your guest list in favour of your mates?" I pondered and answered and the conversation carried on. But it nonetheless got me thinking about the guest subject and in keeping with my theoretical planning led me to ask questions such as "How many spaces should be left for people we don't yet know?" I don't have an answer to this mainly because we don't know who we don't know and therefore don't know who they might be or how many of them there might be. As you can see this kind of thinking doesn't get anything done.

When I am in Cologne I do most of my travelling around in a taxi to and from the airport and normally to and from the office. We have an agreement with a local taxi firm and as a result we see the same drivers most of the time. They are our friends. A friendship based on the fact that once a week someone in our team has to hand over a credit card and pay a fairly hefty taxi bill.

This morning in the taxi with the usual taxi driver I and my colleagues were surprised when the driver handed us personal invitations to a wedding. As someone who doesn't know many people in Cologne I was confused as to who would invite me to their wedding.

As it turns out I don't know more people in Cologne than I thought. The wedding I have an invite for is the much anticipated union of the taxi driver's son and his fiancee to be held at a Greek orthodox church in Cologne on August bank holiday weekend.

I didn't really know what to say other than thanks but it got me thinking about guests. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't sure if I would invite my current co-workers currently sat in the cab with me to my wedding. I was pretty sure I wasn't inviting the taxi driver and as for the taxi driver's son and his (by the time of our wedding) wife. Well it was pretty unlikely unless I have a big falling out with some cousins and need to get the numbers back up.

I discussed the situation with one of my colleagues and said that I couldn't see me inviting the taxi driver's son to my wedding. My colleague agreed and pointed out that maybe I would spec my guest list differently if the taxi driver's son gave my family 2000 euros a month. He was right. I probably would.

Bad news is I can't make the wedding as I am already booked to attend my friend's wedding in Scotland. Problem is I need to RSVP and decline in a combination of Greek and German!

"Working" from Home

I'm working from home today. I worked from home yesterday and got a bit sunburned sat on Brighton beach. But honestly today I am working. I am sat in front of my laptop and my mobile is switched on and next to me. I'm not expecting it to ring as it's a bank holiday in Germany but I've switched it on just in case.

Now I'm not doing to well with this working from home thing. I've narrowed my current failings down to 3 potential things.

1. Sat in shorts, t-shirt and flip flops I am perhaps not in a work frame of mind. Maybe I should go and put my suit on and my productivity will improve.

2. Tea. I don't have tea in the office in Germany mainly because Tea is not a German thing and if I want coffee I have to pay for it and I am against that in principle. But at home I have an almost endless supply of Tetley teabags (I think there are 30 left) and it's great. I've had 4 cups already and I've not been going long. Soon I will have a 4th reason not to work which will be a side effect of drinking a huge amount of tea.

3. To my left I have another computer and on that computer my itunes library. It tells me that I have enough music for 40.7 days with out repeat. That means I can sit here "Working" solidly until around the 10th June without hearing the same song twice.

I have to go an take a plane to Germany tonight and even though I can take the same music from the computer with me on my iPod it doesn't appeal in quite the same way. I don't know why that is.

Well done to anyone who manages this working from home thing. You must have more will power than me but to be honest that is not an achievement worthy of listing on your CV.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be working and this is not getting anything project managed so I should stop. Just need to select a new album to listen to and maybe grab a quick cuppa....

"More porn please!"

It's not a phrase you expect to hear too often, particularly not at the end of a training course at work and particularly not uttered by a woman. But I am beginning to learn that is the world of publishing where anything, it seems, is possible.


Yesterday afternoon, the sales and marketing team were invited to attend a course on 'Viral Marketing.' It was not something I was particularly looking forward to but maybe that sort of bitterness comes from years of attending teaching courses covering thrilling topics such as 'differentiation', 'assessment' and my personal favourite 'PANDA analysis' (don't ask!)


The catering team had obviously preempted our Monday afternoon weariness as we were immediately treated to a fine selection of drinks and fancy biscuits (not a bourbon in sight.) They needn't have bothered really because the hour that followed just involved sitting back and watching a selection of quirky videos and adverts.


I should really point out here what 'viral marketing' means in case you were thinking that I had signed up for an advanced first aid course. The web gives various definitions such as

• any marketing technique that induces Web sites or users to pass on a marketing message to other sites or users, creating a potentially exponential growth in the message's visibility and effect.


• marketing phenomenon that facilitates and encourages people to pass along a marketing message.


• A campaign that uses word-of-mouth or “tell a friend” mechanisms.

Luckily for the men in the room, a lot of the most successful forms of viral marketing are based on the theory that sex sells. We were shown a series of clever video clips that were created as a result of popular adverts and have been viewed over the internet hundreds of thousands of times.


(If you really have got a lot of time on your hands this clip http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNnkIww7Gwk is an example of viral marketing based on this popular Lynx advert http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcQ3GL_QTus. Maybe not one for the workplace, but hey, I watched these at work!)


So basically our challenge is to come up with quirky ways of subtly advertising our products using this new phenomena. Call me a cynic but I'm having trouble coming up with a way of making an A-level Maths textbook appear sexy to my Middle Eastern customers!

Anyway, enough smut! The exciting news last week was that I got to go to the famous River Cafe recently voted 4th best restaurant in Britain (http://www.rivercafe.co.uk/). It was unbelievable (as were the prices) but I along with everyone else there had no intention of parting with our own money. My boss and I were taking a good customer out for lunch and we had prime seats inside by the open patio doors. The whole atmosphere was both sophisticated yet relaxed and I milked it by having 2 courses; carpaccio as a starter (or should I say antipasti) and salmon as my 'secondi piatti'. It was certainly the best italian food I have ever tasted. I also managed to polish off half a bottle of wine which made for some exaggerated business talk by yours truly along the lines of "So I see from your sales figures that the country takes a vested interest in science at international baccaleaureat level... blah blah blah." I had to re-enter my computer password 3 times when I got back to my desk. I'm not proud of myself (but it is quite funny you must admit!)

Last week was my most hectic at work yet as I was at the London Book Fair with the sales team at Earls Court. Now this may sound geeky but it wasn't as bad as you may think. The only thing I can compare it to is a 3 day long parents' evening! You arrange to meet customers from all over the world in half hour slots throughout the day, some show up, some don't, some overrun, some you haven't got much to say to, some moan, some are complimentary.... see what I mean? It was a great experience for me and it was nice to put faces to names. I received invites to a whole host of cool places for example Egypt, Singapore, UAE, the Caribbean and Africa. I hope to be taking these people up on their offers pretty soon. I need another holiday!

Highlights included being interrupted and surrounded mid-meeting by a poorly organised book signing by the famous Brazilian Paulo Coelho (I had never heard of him until I joined Collins!) We suddenly found ourselves in the midst of champagne-swilling, book-hugging fans keen to get their books signed and not caring who they inconvenienced on the way. The lifesize Shrek didn't go down too well in an arena full of adults and no children and apparently David 'The Hoff' Hasselhoff was around but unfortunately I didn't spot him. Gutted.

Run Rhodri, Run!

I set myself a challenge once. I declared, inwardly to myself, that I would run a Marathon by the time I was 30. Now the clock is ticking and I didn't manage to get a place in this years London Marathon which is incidentally tomorrow.

So I feel today is the time to announce that I have now set myself up with a great opportunity to meet my challenge.

I've recently signed up for the 11th Annual Cologne Marathon which will take place on the streets of Cologne on Sunday 7th October 2007. I have sometime to prepare.

I think I've made a pretty good choice. Cologne is pretty flat. I know this because the flatness combined with the very minimal snow this year have prevented me using one of the useful phrases I have in my German phrase book. I don't have the German to hand but the phrase is "That's a very nice ski suit" I believe it is in the 'chatting Germans up on the piste' section of the book which comes just after 'introducing yourself' and before 'getting around' (that's getting around in the travel sense rather than getting around in the following on from the chatting up Germans on the piste sense)

I fairness I need this marathon. Living in hotels with hot buffet breakfast and eating out every night often in bars which can, for the weak, also lead to drinking is leading me to not look like a man on his way to 30 but look like one who has comfortably passed it by.

So over the next few months I will track my own progress towards this event which I hope to be able to finish in 4 hours 30 Min's. As a starter I went running this morning for 45 Min's. I can confirm that I didn't even achieve 1/4 of the marathon distance and it made me tired. Phase 2 of the training comes this evening. I'm meeting some friends in London for drinks. Oh dear. I see this whole process will be a struggle.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles but not the film version

Today is Friday the 13th. Maybe not a good day to do anything if you are suspicious. I’m not and that’s a bonus as today I have lots to accomplish.

Today has been a travelling extravaganza for me. In the space of what will probably best case amount to 18 hours the following will take place. I will take 3 taxis, 2 trains, 1 plane, 2 buses and drive 2 cars in a journey that will get me from Cologne to Wallington, via Stuttgart and Welling. and cost in the region of 500 Euros! So if you think your Friday is a bit long spare a thought for me. I got out bed at 6am German time for essentially 18 hours of travelling with some work thrown in. I expect no sympathy. I chose this job out of my grand choice of one option so I can only moan to myself.

So how did it go? It started quite well with the taxi to the station and Starbucks for breakfast. The first train was good and then trouble. German efficiency had me believe that if I was 2 seconds late for my connecting train I would be in trouble. Wrong! I was there but 2 mins before the second train was due to arrive it suddenly became 15 mins late. 10 mins later and it was 30 mins late. After the 30 mins had elapsed it was announced that it was cancelled. Thankfully someone on the platform told me in English that I had to go to a different platform to get the train. I arrived in the office 1 hour and 15 mins after my planned time and a full 20 mins late for my meeting. Oh Well

The rest of the day went relatively without a hitch until I arrived at my parents house to return my Dad's car and collect my own. Full luggage swap over and I was on my way. Only for it to overheat after 10 mins and force me back home. I put my luggage back in my Dad's car and set off with that for another week. Good luck with the Fiesta Dad!

Wo ist der besprechungsraum?

This week I have had my first official German lesson. I say official as my colleagues have been teaching me German phrases over the past 2 months so of which are useful but most of which are absolutely useless.

There were a number of comments in the office around the opinion that I didn’t need German lessons I would be better off with a German girlfriend but I pointed out numerous times that that doesn’t fit in well with my plan to keep my English girlfriend and therefore attending language school was the only option.

It was an interesting lesson. We started from scratch as I was pretty confident that I was virtually the lowest level of beginner that you could find despite my ability to say “Where is the meeting room” I don’t, or rather didn’t, know how to greet people correctly and ask how they were.

Anyway, what did I learn? Well I set about it with great efficiency. The prospect of 2 hours of teaching coming at the end of an 11 hour day was never filling me with joy so I decided to just write down and repeat everything that I was told and then I could revise the information at a later date say at a time when I’m twiddling my thumbs in an airport waiting for a delayed plane. The most memorable part of the lesson was our discussion around how to ask someone their name. To do this justice I need one of those double S things that looks like a B. However this is and English keyboard and doesn’t have one so we will make do with ss. "Wie Heisst du?" And "Wie heissen Sie?" Now I was advised to use "Wie heissen Sie?" as it is more formal. I was told that "Wie heist du?" Should only be used when talking to your friends. I asked why I would need to ask my friend’s names as if they were my friends I would already know their names.

The teacher looked confused and concerned. I realised that this discussion was perhaps not the best use of 20 euros an hour and suggested we move on.

Best thing I've learnt so far is the word warum.

Musings of a commuter

Dear Fellow Commuters,

I thought I'd write to let you know how honoured I feel to spend 3 hours of every working day with you. I missed you over the Easter weekend.

I particularly missed the overly-amorous couple with whom I have the joy of sharing the same carriage from Wallington. It makes my mornings seeing you make those silly little faces to each other and when you, dear lady, wave to your partner from the train as he climbs the stairs at Clapham Junction so that by the time he reaches the top you are bent over with your head turned 90 degrees by your knees in order to get those vital few seconds extra in sight of your beloved. Maybe it is because I am not the least bit jealous that you get to spend the week with your partner that I find your mannerisms so touching and not at all vomit-inducing.

To you, the man who sat down next to me this morning then promptly elbowed me in the jaw whilst trying to get your phone out of your pocket...your affection moves me. I do so hate it when people say sorry for things like that so I'm glad you didn't. There is no need for all this politeness.

I feel particularly special when I have to squeeze in between two people who have no concept of personal space and continue reading their broadsheets at full spread. It is equally pleasant at the end of the day when deodorant has lost its power and a fragrant aroma of sweaty grime fills the nostrils. Talking of nostrils, it is so kind of those people who regularly like to conduct a full and thorough search of their nostrils in front of a packed carriage. It is like getting free tickets to the theatre - glorious!

But there is nothing more pleasing than when someone chooses to sit next to me with a take away pizza oozing grease 6 inches from my 'professional dry clean only' coat and then proceeds to eat it with accompanying garlic butter dip. How flattered I feel to be almost sharing your gourmet meal with you.

My Granny used to watch the packed rush hour trains chugging by her house which overlooked the District line route and she would sigh enviously, "lucky people". Well Granny, you're so right. How lucky I feel to now be one of those commuters!

So thank you my friends and though we will never speak, here's to many more years of happy commuting.

Best wishes,

Anna (Carriage 2, the girl with the ipod, the brown coat and the Bill Bryson book)

"It's accepted over here, not like in the UK."

It always amazes me what people sat in a pub will tell you about their life without you asking a single question.

I went to the pub on Wednesday night to watch the football. The pub of choice for football watching in Cologne was Jameson's Irish bar. Some people think it's morally wrong to go into an Irish bar when you are abroad because you should sample life with the locals. In a way I agree but if you want to watch England or Ireland play football in Cologne at the same time as Germany are playing then you will not get much joy in a local bar saying " Ich mochte zuschauen Andorra V England."

The first half went by fairly uneventfully in both the football and conversation-with-freaks sense.

During the second half more things happened in the football and I was commenting on these events with my colleague. I'm not the type to go to the pub on my own you know. Not this week anyway. So as we discussed/commented on the football, my new friend joined in.

It started with him joining in with the chat about the football which was alright. Nothing too difficult to handle really. There was quite a lot of swearing in the sentences (that's his not mine) and one of us was considerably more drunk than the other.

So here is what I found out from my 4-toothed, bald, drunk friend from Birmingham in the checked shirt. I don't know his name thankfully.

He came to Cologne during the World Cup last year and never went home. He deals in scrap metal. He has a daughter and I think she must be good at football because he often proclaimed loudly at the TV, "My daughter could have scored that!" or "My daughter can pass better than that!" He's an Aston Villa fan but apparently should be a Birmingham fan but doesn't give a £u*&. It was getting odd at this point and I got no help from my football watching friends who deemed that I had got myself in to this conversation and was therefore on my own.

My drunk Brummie friend likes to get pissed every night on Kolsch. He is looking for a wife and will only return to the UK when he has found one. We are all safe. Judging by the state of him he won't be stepping on these shores for a while. Then came the strangest and thankfully final part of the conversation. Despite me asking no questions about anything, I found out that he likes to spend his Friday and Saturday nights (after getting pissed) in the various brothels of Cologne. Apparently for £20 you can obtain the short term company and affection of a lovely Thai girl. "You see it's accepted over here, not like in the UK."

I'd already finished my pint by this point and paid the bill. Thankfully the ref then blew the final whistle to call time on what was a fairly shocking game of football and an even more shocking conversation.

Champers on the mezzanine anyone?

It's not everyday at work that you get an email sent round entitled 'Champagne on the mezzanine'. Well, actually, it seems to be getting that way in my company and I'm not complaining. This is the second day on the trot that I have floated home in a booze-filled haze giggling quietly to myself unperturbed by delayed trains and signal faults.

Yesterday was my first glimpse into the champagne lifestyle that can be publishing. Towards the end of the day, we all received an email inviting us to join Lauren Weisberger (author of The Devil Wears Prada for those of you who, like me, didn't have a clue who she was) in celebrating having sold 1 million copies of her novel on the mezzanine floor now. Not wanting to appear too keen, I waited to see if anyone else was already out of their seats and hot-footing it down to the party, but no. It appears that events like this are commonplace in publishing and not at all unexpected. I did manage to drag along my friend Lucy and we proceeded to get light-headed in amongst the schmoozing. We didn't trust ourselves to speak to Lauren so we hung around the food table instead and happily scoffed on spring rolls, sausages and posh smoked salmon canapes. I have every faith that Lucy could have found something intellectual to say but I certainly couldn't think above "I liked your book!" Hopefully my banter will improve. Lauren did seem very sweet and kept thanking everyone for all the help and support she had received when publishing her book with us. When she looked in my general direction, I nodded in a kind of "That's OK Lauren" way, having played not one single part in her fame or the success of her book.

Having marked this down as a one-off event, I was more than a bit excited to receive an email this afternoon with a similarly boozy 'Drinks' as its title. I didn't even need to know what it was for, all I knew was that it was 4pm and we were being offered free champagne! The event was to wish a member of staff well in her new job....a job in the same company in the same office and at the same desk, just a different role! Any old excuse it seems. I then proceeded to spend the next 1 and a half hours drinking champagne and trying to soak it up with Kettle chips. And then it was time to go home!

It's no wonder I love my job. I could so get used to this!

Fashion faux pas

So last Monday I had the joy of reporting that my chin had been taken over by a small mountain and I was awaiting the dreaded company photo the following day. Well I needn't have worried about the spot because on the following day I managed to dress myself so badly that I made sure that no-one was looking at my chin. I somehow must have got dressed in the dark on Tuesday morning and only when I saw myself in the bathroom mirrors at work did I realise to my horror that I was wearing a see-through top! Yep, what I thought had been 'sheer' top when I bought it recently actually turned out to be pretty much transparent so the rest of the day was spent hugging a strategically placed A4 pad and backing away from people in a Japanese style. A great impression to make on your second day in a new job I'm sure you'll agree.

As for the photo, I managed to avoid the 'photo man' as I now call him and have done ever since. This isn't easy seeing as he sits on reception which I pass every time I go in or out of the building. We acknowledge each other cordially and I am waiting for the moment when he calls out, "Is now a good time for your photo?" Having spoken to other colleagues, my avoidance of the company photo is a perfectly acceptable thing to do and so my target is to continue in this way for the rest of my time at HarperCollins.

You'll be pleased to hear that my spot disappeared pretty soon...only to be taken over by 3 more. Yes, 3 more. I've turned back into my 14 year old spotty nemesis with acne issues (but with a slightly more acceptable fringe now than I sported in those days.) I can't really blame it on stress because my workplace is the most relaxed place you could possibly work in. Take for example dress-down Friday. I was afraid of what I might find last Friday as for most of the week, my colleagues had been wearing jeans, converse boots, trainers: basically it's dress down day every day of the week here. I was very reserved in my casualness and opted for cords rather than jeans. My only real criteria for clothing from now on is that they aren't see-through!

Look, I don't have a laptop

Here's the routine.
Me "Hi Cologne please" (Hand over passport)
Lady at counter "Do you have any luggage to check?"
Me "Yes just one bag" (because if I had any more you dirty low cost airline thieves would rob me just to take a second bag)
Lady "Did you pack the bag yourself?"
Me (resisting the urge to say something along the lines of 'No my illegal immigrant Colombian gardener packed it) "Yes"
Lady "Could anyone have tampered with it since it was packed?"
Me "No"
Lady "Any hand luggage?"
Me "Yes"
Lady "Any liquids or gels in your hand luggage?"
Me "No" ( I love the fact that to get some water I have to pay the heavily inflated price in WHSmith or Boots after security.)
Lady "Gate number (somewhere between 1 and 20 but 14 is a favourite.) Boarding time 7:20 (Yeah right!)
Me "Thanks" (I'm polite.)

On Monday I might speed the event up by saying " Cologne please with one checked bag that I packed myself and no one has tampered with. I also have one piece of hand luggage but I would not be foolish enough to pack any liquids or gels. I also know that I will board somewhere between gates 1 and 20 and I am plenty capable of finding out which one. I also know what time the flight leaves and I am capable of assessing the realistic time of boarding which I can assure you is not 7:20 as the plane hasn't even landed from its previous flight by that time!" I expect she will appreciate my efficiency.

I then set off and join the snaking queue for security. However, I'm only allowed to join the queue after I have assured 2 more people that I don't have any liquids or gels.

Now in order to speed the whole security event up I have developed a system whereby whilst moving through the queue I can arrive at the critical point with coat in one hand (containing all money and keys from pockets) and laptop in the other hand (since it has to be scanned separately) with my bag still on my shoulder. All can swiftly be dropped in the boxes and I'm through the scanner and all being well, grab my stuff.

Unfortunately Mein Laptop ist kaput! so I don't currently have it. This should in theory speed up my pass through security except for the fact that I am quite obviously carrying a laptop bag as is evident by the Dell sign on the front...
Man at Security "Laptop?"
Me "No."
Man "You 'ave to take your laptop out of its bag."
Me "I don't have a laptop."
Quizzical/stern look and the only way I can ease this situation is to open my bag and say
"Look, I have no laptop."

I get my laptop back next week so once again I will be able to progress through security as a normal business traveller and not look like someone who carries a laptop bag just for appearances.

First day

Day one over. My feet hurt, I feel filthy, my brain is slightly frazzled but I survived.

To be perfectly honest, I had a fantstic day. My manager is great and he made sure I wasn't overloaded with too much new information on my first day. Let's get the important things clarified: I have a massive desk with lots of new stationary, I had a whole hour off for lunch and I am now the owner of a brand new mobile phone with a blackberry and a laptop on the way. (I'm not quite sure why I have any of the last 3 items as I have a perfectly good phone and computer on my desk already!)

Unfortunately, my day culminated in a spot; not the sort that you can cover over with a strategically-placed strand of hair but the type for which you need to apply for planning permission - right there on my chin for all to see. The best thing about this sorry situation is that I have to have my photo taken tomorrow which will appear on the company intranet so my new addition will haunt me (and my fellow colleagues) for the rest of my days at HarperCollins!

That Sunday night feeling

For the first time in thirteen months, I have that Sunday night feeling. I sympathise with all of you in full time employment who know this feeling well.

I resent the fact that you have to iron your entire wardrobe and polish your shoes on a weekend. I hate the fact that I have been thinking about what to wear tomorrow for the last 3 hours. But what I'm dreading most of all is the thought of the alarm going off at some ungodly hour. That's going to take some serious getting used to.

I haven't had the best preparation for the week ahead as my body went into shutdown mode early on in the week. A sick bug attacked me and wrestled me to bed for three days allowing me to drink only water and eat pretty much just bread and plain biscuits. Not nice. However, with my Mum's expert care and a quiet weekend recovering I am now fighting fit and ready to do battle with the world and his wife on the trains tomorrow. Fortunately, this all happened after the 'meet the team' lunch on Tuesday which was a great success. (And, no, I didn't wear a suit in the end, in case you were wondering.)

Speaking of weekends, my Mum, Dad, Rhod and I decided to take advantage of the weather and head for Richmond Park today. After our walk we headed out of the park's Richmond Gate and noticed a string of coaches parked outside a hotel. As we drew nearer we noticed it was the French rugby team's fleet ready to take them to Twickenham. In true stalker fashion, we got out and hung around the coach door for a while with a few French fans also eagerly awaiting the team. After a tip off we found out that they were actually staying at the Petersham Hotel down a narrow one-way street on the opposite side of the road and would be walking up the path to meet the coach. We decided to outsmart them and drove around to the hotel itself in the hope of seeing them leave. However, by the time we had made the 10 minute detour to get down to the hotel the crafty French had sneaked out and up the path. We however spent the next 15 minutes standing smugly yet blissfully unaware in the hotel carpark watching the filfthy rich come in and out of the most exclusive hotel in Richmond. After giving up, we emerged from the top of the one way street to find the coaches gone. Oh well, we may not have outwitted the French team, but at least the England team did!

Anyway, I should really get to bed; I'm going to WORK tomorrow!

Killing time

I guess most people would be thrilled to be told they have a fortnight free before they have to start a new job. Not when you've had the last 2 months free. The thought of lounging around the house watching 'Loose Women' in my pyjamas was too much to bear and as it had been a while since my last holiday, I thought that I deserved a mini break. The targets of my last minute decision (I gave them a day's notice) were my cousin Nick and his wife Kirsty in their spacious house on the edge of a loch in the sleepy Scottish village of Portincaple. Bliss.







Oh, and one other thing; they also happen to have four children under the age of 6?!

From the very first moment at the airport when we nearly lost Anastacia onto the luggage conveyor belt, I knew it was going to be a fun week. By the end of my stay, I had become an expert at making jigsaws, emptying potties, brushing the hair of moving targets, reading Goldilocks umpteen times without sounding bored, working out the complex mechanisms of a seatbelt and remembering exactly which bowl, bib, spoon, fork and glass each child preferred at mealtimes.

Does this sound like hell to you? Not to me it wasn't. I had a great time! Any parents that can get four children out of bed, breakfasted, dressed, teeth brushed, hair detangled and sitting in the car with freshly-made packed lunches in less than an hour (all without a tantrum) deserve a medal in my opinion. It was like a parenting master class - Nick and Kirsty, I don't know how you do it!

Despite the effort involved in raising four happy children, they still managed to show me around, take me to a shopping centre, wine and dine me at a posh restaurant, force countless glasses of Chablis upon me and cook some exquisite food. I even got to spot a submarine on its way back to the naval base.

So Nick, Kirsty, Seb, Anastacia, Felix and Sofia, thank you for entertaining me last week and I reckon I'll be back soon though next time, I'll try to give you more than a day's notice!

Hash browns and baked beans

In the travel accommodation sense, I'm not really used to luxury. 17-bed dorms and motorhomes in -12 deg C are not really the Ritz. They are interesting in their own special way but it's not silver service, complimentary shoe shine, a concierge and a 7pm turn down with Belgian chocolates. But I'm a business traveller now and I don't make my hotel choices and more importantly, I don't pay the bill.

It's my third week in Cologne and I'm currently in my third different hotel. Week one saw 3 nights in the Intercontinental. Week 2 saw 3 nights in the Crowne Plaza and this week sees 4 nights in the Marriott.

So how do I compare 3, what I deem judging by the price, high class hotels?

I could tell you about the gymnasiums. 'Hot as a sauna and free of charge' in the Crowne Plaza. 'Free of charge and not too hot' in the Marriott. 'Too expensive for me to even set foot inside the door but it looked nice in the photos' at the Intercontinental.

We could talk shoe shine facilities. Leave your shoes outside the door at the Intercontinental and someone (I'm guessing a type of shoe cleaning fairy) cleans them. In the Marriott you get to stick your foot under the rotating brush by the lift. In the Crowne Plaza you have a cloth that you have to wipe over your shoes yourself. (I didn't bother.)

Pillows would be a good reference point. In the Intercontinetal I got 4 of them but they were almost as big as sofa cushions. In the Crowne Plaza I had 4 but spread across 2 beds. Here in the Marriott I have 7. I have no idea what to do with them so I just throw 5 of them on the floor when I go to bed and the next day when I come home from work they are immaculately re-positioned ready for me to throw on the floor again.

I've found the only true way to rate a hotel. They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I have no idea who 'they' are but when anything wise is quoted, 'they' are often credited for it. Such as "They say you should never use your hand as a hammer" That's good advice because it can hurt so they must have some sense to them. So if 'they' say it is important then I'm listening.

To be honest they are all pretty much the same. Fruit (not that I have anything to do with that), cereal, bread, pastries, cheese, cold meats (including rare roast beef in the Marriott - It's nice but not really a breakfast thing) yogurt, coffee, hundreds of varieties of tea, hard boiled eggs, soft boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages. I feel I need to clarify something to everyone before I continue. This isn't a list of what I eat every morning, it's just a list of what is available. Ok? The winner by far in the breakfast stakes is the Crowne Plaza and the reasons are...hash browns and baked beans. The others don't have them. In fairness the Crowne Plaza is a hotel full of UK/US citizens in Cologne on business and I guess it's just catering to the desires of its guests. I love it!

The reason I've been in 3 different hotels is because the normal hotel of the company's choice has been full on occasions. Fortunately for me (the hash brown and baked beans addict) the normal hotel is the Crowne Plaza. Looks like the shoes will be staying dirty for a while!

Unemployment over!

Call off the search because.... I HAVE A JOB!!!

I have just accepted a role within the international section of Collins the publishers. Obviously if I were wearing a suit I would be celebrating just like this array of cheering business people. Wouldn't you just love to work for one of these companies?

I knew I would like to work for Collins when I was interviewed by two guys in jeans and converse boots (I felt slightly overdressed in my suit and heels) who said that they loved the fact that I had been a teacher and had travelled the world. At last, someone who values what I've done!

I will be working for a team that exports educational books to countries in Africa, Europe and South America to name but a few. There may also be the opportunity to travel to attend teaching conferences and meet with headteachers in these countries.

I don't start until 12th March which is a shame but they need to sort me out a desk, company mobile and laptop! In the meantime, they have invited me to lunch to meet the rest of the team so the big decision now is...what to wear? Suit or jeans and converse boots?

The joy of interviews

Q:"Did you find us ok?"
A:"Well of course I flipping well did, I'm here aren't I? Belive it or not I am capable of reading a map and navigating myself to a simple street address perfectly well!"

A classic interview starting question in which the interviewer aims to fill the awkward silence between meeting the interviewee at reception and escorting them to the designated meeting room. Sadly though, not a classic response but the most appropriate in my view. Instead I smile politely and say that as I only came from Wallington it didn't take me long and I found it without any problems, thank you very much.

Some interviews I have attended recently have required me to sit a verbal and numerical reasoning test. I love them though I always have had a kind of perverse enjoyment of sitting tests for some reason. Some of my favourite questions have been...

1. What do you admire most:
a) the flight of a bird;
b) the speed and grace of a cheetah;
c) the strength of a lion?

(I chose the flight of the bird by the way because despite being a mere creature in comparison with the other two, the bird possesses an amazing skill that neither of the others have. I clearly read too much into this question as I then started to believe that the cheetah represented a pretty but useless secretary who sits filing her nails and the lion represented an overweight overbearing city banker who uses fear and intimidation to get his own way. Anyway, enough animal talk.)

2. Find 50% of £30.

3. Correct the following spelling mistakes:
a) recieve
b) goverment
c)accomodation

4. What is the difference between these two codes:
a) 5436ghy;
b) 5346ghy?

5. Choose the correct answer.
Fox is to den as dog is to _____:
a) pen;
b) stable;
c) kennel;
d) nest.

You would think that I have been applying for positions for school leavers but I kid ye not. These are the sorts of questions that you have to answer in order to obtain a position in major London companies.

So once you've made it through the equivalent of the 11 plus, you have the interview itself. Every good interview should start with "Can you briefly bring us up to date with your current situation?" I have learnt to start from when I graduated and work forwards. It's less shocking than starting from my present situation and working backwards. Let me demonstrate: "Well let's see. I've been looking for a job for 9 weeks now, I've moved back home so that my mum can still do my laundry and I've been turned down from 16k a year admin jobs (because teaching didn't involve any admin of course.) Oh Christmas was great thanks and did I mention that I've been bumming around the world for 10 months before that?" See what I mean?

Then you get onto the real questions. Here are a selection of my favourite ones:

1. Describe a time when you failed to meet a deadline? What were the implications?

2. Please describe a situation in which you made a poor decision. In hindsight, why do you feel this decision was not a good one?
Hint: Never answer these two questions too quickly like you have a whole list of times up your sleeve.

3. If I spoke to your old boss, what would they say about you?
(She'd probably say that I missed deadlines and made poor decisions.)

4. Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?
That old chestnut! Hint: Married with children is not what they want to hear.

Finally the interrogation is over but you still have that awkward time while the interviewer shows you back to reception. What do you talk about? Suggestions please as I am yet to get beyond "Hmm, nice building." Lame.

Brain-based language congestion

I'm not a master of languages. I can just about communicate coherently in my own language and others have always been lost on me. So being in Germany is pretty tough for me. I studied German for a year at school and also a year at university. The sum total of my German knowledge is that if someone asks my age I can tell them I am 13, 14, 19 or 20 but they are obviously all incorrect. If they ask me about brothers or sisters I can tell them I have one brother (true) but his age can only be 15, 16, 21 or 22. I'm not sure why anyone would need to know my brother's age but I'm preparing for all eventualities. All pretty useless stuff.

Now the problems are coming in the sense that I know a few words in a few languages. Words like "please", "thanks", "hello", "goodbye", "does that include breakfast?", various swear words, "where is the bathroom", "can I have a beer please" (possibly the most important thing to learn in any language) and other such useful things.

When I try to execute any of these words in German I tend to end up with a random combination of French, Spanish, Portugese, Japanese and in the end just a lot of loud English.

What I need to do is to sort my small collection of words into categories and file away the currently unrequired languages until say for instance I am in Spain and I need to know if a hotel room comes with breakfast included. I need to put it into sections and just have access to the very, very few words I know in German so at least I can use them rather than staring blankly while I ponder the different options in my head for "thanks".

The Stansted social scene

If you were worried about me not having any friends while I am travelling, fear not. Stansted airport is a thriving social venue at all hours of the day.

I've been to Stansted 5 times in the last 2 weeks. In these visits I've seen people I know (used to work with) on 4 of the visits. That's an 80% hit rate. Included in this is the fact that in 2 weeks in Cologne I have seen 2 people I know (used to work with) either in the hotel or in a bar. Not miraculous considering that I work in the Automotive industry and everyone I've seen also does. But relate it to the rest of the year and I'm going to be busy....

Let's for demonstration purposes say I have to make around 80 further visits to Stansted this year. Terrifying thought for me and my carbon footprint but it means that at the current hit rate I still have 64 more people I know to see at the airport. Add to that 40 more weeks in Cologne at the rate of 1 person per week and I have a total of 104 people to see.

How will I remember everyone's name?

Festival Time

Thursday was the start of a festival in Cologne. I have no idea what festival as I speak no German but a festival nonetheless. This festival kicks off at elf:elf (11:11am) on Thursday when it is women's day. This means that the women can do whatever they like and on Thursday that involves cutting the ties of the men in the office.

Fortunately I had been warned about this and had accessorised myself with a 7 euro tie from C&A. I didn't know C&A still existed. I, like everyone else in the office wearing a tie, walked around for the rest of the day with half a tie. There is something a little scary about a German woman who you don't know walking towards you with a pair of scissors.

Over festival weekend my understanding is that the Cologners can essentially get up to whatever they like, with whoever they like and then on Monday or Tuesday they burn a clown (I don't think it is a real clown), everyone's sins are unanimously forgiven and they all return back to their original partners and live life as if nothing has happened. Until next year at least. All sounds a little bit odd. They also dress up and go drinking in the city. You look out of place if you don't dress up. I didn't dress up but I did go out and drink some beer in honour of the festival. It was a crazy week.

I returned home late Friday night grateful to be back and even more grateful that the festival continues through to Monday and I get to work from home for the day!!

What's your favourite vegetable?

Rhod's first week away was an experience. If you're desperate to regain your youth, may I suggest a prolonged stay at your parents' house on your own. I feel about 15 again. Remember the time when you would get home from school and your parents would ask eagerly about your day and all you could manage in response was an unrecognisable "Urfygh! Is'alright!" whilst wiping your greasy hair off your spotty face? Well I am now reliving my youth (though thankfully without the greasy hair and spots) and shamefully find myself grunting in response to their questions about my day's job hunting. I am dreadful I know and I do feel bad but I can't stop myself.

The conversation at the dinner table is usually of a similar vein but the lack of background music or Emmerdale can lead to awkward silences and on one such occasion this week my Mum, in all seriousness, felt the urge to break it with this gem of a question: "What's your favourite vegetable?" It was such a refreshing change of question that instead of laughing openly I actually gave it some serious thought whilst initially shortlisting three possible contenders; broccoli, mushrooms and carrots. I look forward to hearing what other questions she has up her sleeves. Rhod and I came up with "If you were a beaver, which river would you dam?" or "If you were a Beatles tribute band, which song would you open with?"

And for those of you who are interested, after some serious thought, I've decided that my favourite vegetable is...the mushroom.

Off to Germania

So I've secured a new job. It's been a frustrating process of over-enthusiastic recruitment consultants delivering somewhere between absolutely nothing (despite a lot of promises), the same job I had before, or, on very rare occasions, a job that might be good.

So after talking to lots of recruitment consultants I got a job without going through an agency and I'm pleased about it.

Monday the 12th saw me head in to the London office to sign a contract and pick up my laptop and mobile phone. Now the mobile phone on first sight looks like it might be a little bit cleverer than me. It communicates with the laptop and the laptop communicates with the phone. I'm not sure where or even if I fit in to this communication sequence. All I know is that sometimes the phone beeps, sometimes the laptop beeps, sometimes they both beep and sometimes, because they both work on Windows, they both crash putting me back in charge of my own communication.

Tuesday morning saw me leave for my first working day in Cologne. Now 4:30 in the morning is not a time I have historically enjoyed unless I was going to see sunrise over one of the great sights of the world. Stansted airport is not one of the great sights of the world. The morning started badly really. My new laptop rolled off the bed on to the floor. Luckily it was contained within its bag so no harm done. My emotional fairwell with Anna was slightly ruined by me having a nose bleed. Bit of a worry primarily because I am wearing my best (only) suit and a brand new shirt and tie combo. I manage to stem the flow and set off for the airport with kitchen roll up one nostril.

I arrived in Cologne to find that the phone is not as clever as me. I know I'm in Germany, the phone does not. Unfortunately I don't know how to tell it so I have to call the office and get them to set it up so it can find its way around the world. It gets sorted and beeping, communicating and crashing is restored.

My journey to the hotel from the office involved Cologne rush hour and a taxi driver so irate that the journey was taking longer than he had hoped that he felt the need to tell 2 of his friends at the same time using 2 different mobiles! When he started dialling we were sat in traffic. When they had answered we were on the move again. So he held one phone between his ear and his shoulder by tilting his head, used one hand to hold the other phone on the other side and, fortunately for me, reserved one hand for the irksome task of driving.

I was relieved to arrive at the Intercontinental hotel. Who wouldn't be as it is the nicest, most expensive hotel I've ever stayed in. I was shocked to find that after walking through the front door I had to wait to get to the reception desk as a Porsche Cayenne turbo was driving through the lobby. He appeared to be looking for the way out and after some nudging of the concierge desk he made his way through the double glass doors out to the more normal home of motor vehicles, the street. I was then able to check-in.

Job (and head) hunting

5 weeks ensued of creating embellished CVs, writing elaborate cover letters, applying for jobs, speaking to retarded recruitment consultants who promise to call and never do, having telephone interviews, going for 2nd interviews, failing interviews, starting the whole process again... You get the idea. Thoroughly depressing stuff but we always had each other to moan to and one of us would usually then suggest a therapeutic work-evasive activity (like eating or compiling photo montages.)

Alas, that time has come to an end. Rhod is now the proud owner of...a job! However, there is one hitch. The job sees him working in Germany Monday to Friday and only returning home at weekends. I am losing the friend with whom I spent the last 10 months 24/7 (apart from toilet breaks) and never ran out of things to talk about! It is a fantastic opportunity though. Rhod has secured a Project Managament Consultant job so has successfully moved away from the clutches of Ford. The company are highly efficient; within 45 minutes of him accepting the job he had emails from future work colleagues expressing how pleased they were, his flights to and from Cologne for next week had been booked and his luxury hotel (complete with Holmes Place fitness club and 20m pool) was all sorted. Rhod signs his contract in London tomorrow (Monday) and jets off for his first week of fully expensed work on Tuesday. I however am left alone jobless and living with my mum and dad . That is partly my own fault though.

I was offered a job as a headhunter with a small executive search company in Charing Cross which I began this week. It was to be a trial basis and therefore unpaid. I was thrown in at the deep end without training and I hated every minute of it. I was having to phone up vice presidents of huge firms in the US and ask them if they wanted to change jobs for the one I knew hardly anything about. Needless to say I was unsuccessful and I lasted for 2 days before I quit. Brave, yes. Stupid, most probably.

Because I wish to change careers from teaching, I am finding that I am being rejected from jobs that I think I would succeed in with a bit of training. Most companies ask for experience so I am having to apply for jobs that graduates straight out of university apply for and almost all of them are on a lower salary to what I was earning when I left teaching. But I will persist and find my dream job!

Presence for presents

Having pre-empted the depression on our return, Rhod and I had always planned to fly back home on 19th December plunging us straight back into the heart of Christmas frenzy. This was a wise decision as it provided a distraction to any nostalgic thoughts of happier times abroad. It also meant that any lame Christmas presents were overlooked in favour of our mere presence back in the country.

The first fortnight was a whirlwind of visiting family, meeting new dogs and babies(!), catching up with friends and answering that famous question "Where was your favourite place?" Hint: this is a rubbish question to ask us but at least it means that the person wants to find out about our holiday. My Dad has now taken to watching the rugby instead of our enthralling holiday videos! While we're on that point, full marks go to Shane who wins the prize for most inventive questions "What was your favourite man-made structure and your favourite natural wonder?"

We even managed amidst all the chaos to choose a date for our wedding, secure the church and priest and find the most amazing venue for the reception. 21st June 2008 in Bath. If you're organised enough to have a diary for 2008, pop it in!

Unfortunately the festive period did bring with it some sad news; the death of my wonderful Grandma at the grand old age of 96. Thankfully I got home in time to see her the day before she died in hospital so I got to show her my bling and bore her with some holiday photos! Despite the obvious sadness her passing brought to our family it did mean that we saw a lot more of each other and I'm pleased to say that it didn't put a stop to the usual drivel that gets spoken when my Dad's side of the family get together!

Then a strange thing happened at the beginning of January...everyone went back to work except Rhod and I. We had forgotten that people actually have jobs! It was time for some serious work to claw our way back into the world of employment. The fun was over and it was back to reality with a big bump.