"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!