Born To Be My Baby.... or not!

So last night I took a pregnancy test. Dad, Mom, if you're reading, take a deep breath now....and don't have a stroke - I am not pregnant (if I was I would have told you to sit down first ;-P). I've changed my contraceptive in the last few months, and scientifically it is not possible for me to be feeling the kicking of baby feet anytime soon, unless all the doctors and nurses are idiots and medical science does not work the way they say it does. However, since I did make a change, there was an irrational part of me that feared something would go wrong, as is normal anytime you break your routine. Once that tiny seed of doubt is planted, suddenly you see babies everywhere. I was getting hungry earlier in the mornings - must be the baby needing some nosh. My stomach was feeling harder and bigger - must be the baby growing at an alarming rate (I conveniently forgot that I have been working out a fair amount, so I actually have muscle there now, and definition which might account for the outward curve). So I took the plunge last night, in the bathroom at the pub during the RSPCA volunteers evening. And for that split second when I looked at the blue line - the second before I read the pamphlet so that I thought any line was a yes - my heart stopped and my world caved in around my ears. And then I read the instructions and saw it was a no and everything returned to normal - no round of applause or distant cheering. So really, it just confirmed what I knew all along, but what my subconscious was loathe to accept. Either I am very prudent, or my subconscious just likes drama. Anyway, there was the tiniest part of me, so infitesmal it nearly escaped my attention, that went, aaaah. Pity. It would have been kind of nice. In the world's worst way, of course. And then my Normal Self snatched back rationale from my Crazy Self and obliterated that thought completely. So I'm really just paying homage to my now deceased Crazy Self here - may she rest in peace. Everyone has moments of utter madness - that was mine.

As I mentioned, I was at a pub in Lewisham last night for an RSPCA New Volunteers Evening. Since I've been doing events with them for about 4 months now, I was asked along to give perspective from a volunteer's side, while the committee members did the presentations. It was a good night; some lovely people turned up and we had a couple of drinks and a chat. Until Mr Doos turned up and tried to ruin the night. Xen, who is an animal control officer, was talking about the kinds of calls he receives and the situations he deals with when a random dude sauntered up to our table and took a seat. He appeared to be interested in the whole spiel, so Xen continued with his presentation. Then Mr Doos and Mr Doos' even more doosy mate, Mr Superdoos, who had by then also oozed over to us, started attempting to play devil's advocate and trip Xen up. So he'd talk about why we leave cats up trees for the fire brigade to deal with, and the two dooses would start in on him: but that's animal cruelty, and you guys are supposed to stand for anti-cruelty - you don't even know what you're here for! And generally stupid things like that. They were both slurring to the point of slobbering, and generally behaving like typical bar louts, you get them in every pub. It all got too much for Mr Superdoos though, because Xen just answered politely and continued on with the talk. He spluttered incomprehensibly, whether from rage or a particularly big gulp beer was unclear, and eventually walked away, apparently bored with the lack of confrontation. Mr Doos remained to the end, and after a few more shit-stirring attempts, was actually persuaded by regional supervisor D to sign up! I'll be surprised if he even remembers today though.... with a bit of luck he'll think he's signed away something really valuable. We're doing a microchipping event tomorrow, and I have some ideas about getting the RSPCA involved with Beauty Without Cruelty for a drive towwards ethically produced cosmetics and beauty products, so I'm going to run them by D tomorrow. I'm a passionate supporter of cruelty-free consumables, and I think it stands to reason that an organisation like the RSPCA should be promoting it. Look at me, Lopz the Activist.

It's officially Shoes' last day Prima today, and his last ever as a waiter. From Monday onwards, he will be working 9 to 5 like the rest of us, with normal lunch breaks, surreptitious attempts at wasting company money with hours on the internet and accessible by e-mail all day! We include him in our e-mail chains at the moment so he doesn't ever feel left out, but it will be nice that he'll actually be able to read them now. He's going for drinks tonight, and then tomorrow is having a combined farewell party with another waiter's birthday, and will probably spend his last day before his new job with a mother of a hangover. For my part, I plan to spend a large amount of time this weekend watching Grey's, and topping up my tan fi the weather holds.

As for Neutrino, still no passport. We're hoping and praying his guardian angel is at work.

Final Countdown

So, Neutrino, Scarf and I have exhausted all options, and it's a no go - unless someone hands in his passport and it gets returned to him by next Thursday, he will not be coming to Portugal with us. The Schengen Office can't get him a visa - again, not enough time. He can't travel on his drivers - we knew that anyway, but desperate times, you know? His fate lies entirely in someone else's hands, assuming someone has actually picked up the passport, and it hasn't somehow got swept up with some rubbish and landed in a bin somewhere. Also, not nearly as bad but still crap, the letter of verification I requested for Shoes to confirm he has held his license for more than 2 years is only getting posted out on Monday, so won't arrive in time to take with us. Therefore he can't drive in Portugal. All we need now is to get there and for some reason the car rental place refuses Eyes' SA license, even though they have confirmed in writing twice that they will rent him the car. With this trip, nothing is certain and nothing can be taken for granted.

I am crushed for Neutrino - having been the one left behind last time, I would wish death on my worst enemy over that. Scarf and I have agreed to remain hopeful, and not accept that he is not coming until the last minute. This trip has been so fraught with difficulty up til now, but somehow we have pushed through and overcome the obstacles. We're still going despite all the odds stacked against us, and we're viewing this as just one more irritating odd that needs to be knocked back. Granted, this is way bigger than all our other probelms put together - at least there's been a way around the rest. And until this moment we've been able to exhaust our energies looking for answers. Now, we have to rely completely on fate. Just like Turkey... except that for me with Turkey, there was no way out. For Neutrino, there still is - not a chance I'd put money on, but there's still a chance. And then, after Italy, I am staying put in London until next year January when we go to Cape Town - you couldn't pay me to move my ass across the borders of the UK for a million pounds!

Unbelievable....

This is just a short post again, as I am no doubt going to be updating quite regularly today as we monitor Neutrino's passport situation. He went of to the Italian embassy this morning to try and arrange for an emergency / temporary passport, and they told him there is nothing they can do for him as it is too short notice. I am having Turkey deja-vu visions all over again, except that as flabbergasted and crushed as I am, I am so frikkin' glad it's not me - does that make me a terrible person? Watch, just for saying that our visas are going to get denied - we're due a phone call from the Schengen Office today to tell us to come fetch our passports.

The next step is to try and get him a schengen visa on his South African passport. We have one week to do this, so he's going to phone the Schengen Office this morning when they open and see if they can do it. Obviously he stands no chance in trying to go to the embassy directly.

One of my colleagues thinks it might be possible for him to travel on his driving license, since EU citizens need only a form of photo ID. I have to say, I think this is seriously suspect, but right now we have to explore all our options. I am going to phone the Portuguese Embassy now.

I can't believe this is happening. I am starting to think that maybe we're supposed to die in Portugal, and that all these obstacles are in fact signs from the universe telling us to change our path, to avoid fatal consequences. Imagine we all actually make this trip as planned, only to perish in a car accident - wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake?

There are no words....

Ok, I have to leave in 3 minutes, but I couldn't go without quickly telling you the latest in the Portugal saga.... Neutrino lost his passport this morning! I mean, like, totally lost it - it was in his hands as he walked through a shopping centre and when he came out it was no longer there. Can you fucking believe.....

Don't even ask why he was carrying it through the shops, there's no point. He's going to the Italian embassy tomorrow to see if there's anything he can do. Right now I am throwing up my hands in complete disbelief.

Nuff said.

Walking On Sunshine

We had the most beautifully sunny weekend, and I feel like I'm walking on clouds and sunbeams, with rainbows in my hair and sea lapping at my toes. Ok, maybe a bit OTT on the imagery there, but really, two whole days of 27 degree plus heat and clear blue skies has made me want to wax lyrical about the weather. In non-poetic terms, I feel completely refreshed! I have been happy all day. Even a ghastly pile of photocopying couldn't dampen my spirits.

In fact, the sunshine has cheered me up and inspired me so much that I spent the morning applying for jobs with a vengeance - suddenly I think I might be exactly what someone is looking for, after a good few months of feeling like the dirt scrapings on someone's hiking boot. God helps those who help themselves. I am giving myself such a helping hand right now that I'm practically slapping my own ass. Good for me ;-)

On Friday night we had the braai / eviction party at Neutrino and OJ's place. Was fine, nothing amazing, but we had some drinks, ate WAY too many crisps (what is it about braais and crisps - why are you completely unable to stop eating crisps when you know you're having piles of meat in just half an hour? It's a fact - it's the most out of control one can get around crisps) and enjoyed the company. Saturday was divine - we spent the whole afternoon lying in the sun in Greenwich Park with a picnic, and came back for another braai and an evening of sitting on the balcony talking about life and philosophy (ok, that's bollocks: we were really just talking about our new neighbours upstairs - don't like them - and the weather - really liked that - and what to bring to Portugal). Sunday continued in much the same relaxed vein; Scarf had to work at Wembley Stadium, so I watched some Grey's, lay in the sun with my book, did my scrapbook and baked some muffins, which flopped about as hard as muffins can flop. Our oven blew a fuse the other day, and now only the one element works, so all cooking times have been thrown into disarray. I made strawberry and banana muffins that did a piss-poor job of actually rising, and I'm expecting Dubya to knock at our door any minute, enquiring as to the whereabouts of our hidden weapons of mass destruction - they're that heavy. My dear boyfriend, bless his heart, says they are the best muffins he's ever tasted. Not sure if he has a natural affinity for bland and stodgy lumps of dough or if he is just the best boyfriend ever for saying that, but we all know I should probably go with the latter. All of us got a bit of colour this weekend too, which is just about the best thing that could have happened next to Topshop having an 80% off sale. I am wearing white today, to show off my newly acquired tan. It is the first natural tan I have had in a year - a whole year!!!! Not that I have been white for that entire year of course; I have been various shades of golden, orange and streaky brown, depending on what natural tan disaster I was occupied with at the time. Nothing tans like the sun.

Am starting to get really excited about Portugal now. I know I shouldn't yet, as our visas are supposed to arrive on Wednesday, and until I have that visa-filled passport in my hand, I should keep it down to a mild war cry. Just in case. But the sun has made me almost taste what it's going to be like. Four uninterrupted days in the middle of nowhere, in 40 degree heat, with my best mates and thousands of other revellers partying like there's no tomorrow..... aaah, I can feel the sun on my skin and hear the pulsating trance beats already.

We've bought our tent and sleeping bags, with those stupid roll-up excuses for matresses that actually almost make you more uncomfortable they are so thin; two fishing stools and a tarp to make shade. I can't wait - unlike Mini-Me who grew up, discovered the hair straightener and promptly denounced all ties with my family's favourite pastime, I love camping and would quite happily spend a couple of weeks outdoors with no electricity. I don't even mind cold showers, just as long as there are showers - 2 weeks worth of underarm hair is not something anyone should ever inflict on anyone else, even the most long-suffering of partners.

Pure Shores

Last night Scarf and I went to O2 Arena in Greenwich to see Steel Magnolias. In an effort to market the arena as the new place to be in SE London, they are having all sorts of events, both free and not so much. By day they have kids activities (the little brats are all on holiday here at the mo) and by night they have live music, cocktail evenings and classic films. Wednesday and Sunday nights are free movie nights. It was actually really awesome - not just the movie, but where you watch it.

They've created a beach in the centre of the building by bringing in truck loads of sand to spread over the floor, building fake palm trees complete with decorative lights and setting up deck chairs, so you can enjoy a bit of the seaside in grimy, rainy old LDN. They've hung a big screen on the wall, and voila! you have your very own "Movies at the Beach!" It reminded me a little of a drive-in. The only real similarity is that there is a big screen and it's sort of outdoors (not really, but it feels like it because it's at the beach!), but still, it took me back to a time where you listened to the fliek through tinny speakers mounted on your side mirrors and vendors came up to your windows hawking popcorn and coke. Ag please Daddy, won't you take us the drrrrrive-in.........

You can actually bring your own food and booze as well, so we're going to go again and take the guys with us next time, and have a little picnic on the beach. Check out the before and after pics.

I have finally got a new phone. Just got it now on my lunch break. My gorgeous and sleek pink Samsung U600. I just can't get any trendier. And you know, I went into Carphone Warehouse with the intention of merely checking out my options (was planning on buying the phone only after consulting the Phone God, ie Shoes), and came out with the phone and all mod cons, having paid NOTHING up front - take that, stupid online mobile contract people!!!! Ok, so I didn't get a free gift either, but I didn't have to deal with a Stupid People Situation and I didn't have to lie on my application form - the consultant did it for me! Tres stoked! I was a rather typical chick though, I have to admit..... I only went down to the Strand to pick up the photos I'd had printed for my scrapbook. Along the way, I realised I was going to be passing SheActive, and that it was high time I get a decent sports bra - the twins are slowly but surely succumbing to gravity and need a little extra help. Ok, so maybe I lied when I said I was passing SheActive - I had to make a detour of about 7 streets. I went in and bought a brand new extra super ultimate boobs-in-concrete Shock Absorber bra - because only the balls should bounce! Thanks Anna Kournikova. And then I just popped in to Carphone Warehouse to see what my options were..... and the rest is shopping history. That is how the most satisfying and successful shopping trips are done, after all. Ladies, take note. You're reading the blog of a professional here. The fact that I meant to pick up photos which were already paid for and came away having spent a total of £480, if you include all my future contract payments, is irrelevant, really. I mean, it's not like it was an impulse buy or anything. Both items are necessities! You can't class necessities as impulse buys. Therefore boyfriends are not allowed to shout about shopping trips which result in necessities. I'll let you know later if this theory actually works.

I'm feeling a little sick today. I had chinese rice stir fry for lunch - beans, bambooey type stuff, carrots and prawns, with a bit of last night's fish thrown in for good measure - could that be why, I wonder. Reading it back actually makes my stomach turn. Maybe I shouldn't be so inventive when throwing random foods together.

Looking forward to a weekend of doing nothing, except watching Grey's and playing with my new phone. Just gotta get through Neutrino and OJ's Farewell To Our House party tomorrow night - they're being evicted. This is the house where twice they have been threatened with knives to their throats by their more than slightly pyschotic neighbours, who have major objections to trance music. Ok then, loud trance music. Sometimes in the early hours of morning. And yes, more frequently than is polite. Basically, they deserved a stern telling off, or even a warning from the cops, but the neighbours' vigilante justice is taking it a mite too far. Speaking of which, we nearly had a riot on our hands last night when our African friends living on the opposite side of our block turned their music up to full volume at 11:15pm. The usually unsociable residents of Building 50 gathered as one under said offenders' balcony and took turns cussing them out as loud as they could. Our friend emerged on his balcony and stared blankly down at them. Is it un-pc to say he looked like a monkey in a zoo? It's great, in that particular flat we have a bunch of Nigerians with no social skills, and next door to them we have a family of chavs who may or may not have social skills, but who openly spurn them anyway. Between them they have fewer manners than women at the Christmas Sales. The result is a competition with various events, including: Who has the loudest music, Whose parties go on the longest, Who can get into the most violent and offensive screaming match on their balcony and Who's screaming match has the worst language, and finally Who is most likely to cause Building mutiny, resulting in our vigilante justice. Jury's still out on that one.

Working Class Hero

Wow, it's been more than a week since I've written! That'll do wonders for my hit counter. ;-P I've just been lazy, really, and also have not been allowed to comment on the biggest thing that's happened in my life this week, so it seemed easier to slack off. I won't make you gag for it: Shoes has got a new job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-) :-) :-) Here's how it all went down:

Last week he received an e-mail from an IT company called MMRIT. They do legal and financial IT, IT consulting, networking and general support. The director has seen his CV online, and wanted to know if he was interested in a helpdesk position. Helpdesk is like the reception of the IT world. You answer calls, do light technical support (in some companies) and direct calls according to the issues. It's not what Shoes wants to do in the long run, but he almost certainly has to start off in a position like this to get a foot in the door. Nobody is going to put him on the technical side of things with his lack of experience, especially because he's only just started studying his Networking Qualification, and that seems to be compulsory for technical work. So he phoned the director to set up an interview, and was slightly surprised by what turned out to be a half hour phone interview, rather than a simple arranging of times. Luckily, the night before he made the call, we were lying in bed thinking up the sort of questions he'd get asked in the face-to-face, and preparing answers. He sailed through the phone round fine, and went in on Friday last week to meet the director and the helpdesk manager. I was banned from mentioning anything to anyone, although I did cave and tell my mother and my sister, unbeknownst to him, and swore them to secrecy under pain of death.

So he arrived at the station at 9:40am, to start the interview at 10am. What followed, he says, were the worst 65 minutes of his life. I got a panicked phone call at 9:50am - he'd made a wrong turn on leaving the station and couldn't find the road. I google-mapped it, and sat on the phone directing him to the right street. Of course, London had chosen that Friday to warm up after months of torrential rain, and he was wearing a suit for the first time in his life. So he ran, sweating and claustrophobic, up and down roads in Temple looking for this street. He drank a whole bottle of water whilst on the move, and when he finally arrived at the company, was desperate for the loo but too frantic to go. He was ushered into a room to sit at a desk opposite two rather imposing figures, and offered a glass of water, which he promptly declined on account of his needing the loo so badly. Big mistake. What followed was 45 minutes of hard-core grilling, the likes of which he has never encountered before, this being his first real job interview and all. Although he said he managed not to stumble over his words, he couldn't answer three quarters of the questions the director put to him. Apparently most of the interview centred around networking, which is the second part of his course so he has literally only just started it - I think he's read through the introduction the day before the interview. He not only felt stupid and green, but his extreme nervousness, toilet issues and suit-phobia had all combined to make his mouth dryer than Ghandi's sandle, and his lips began to stick to his teeth when he spoke. At the end of the interview, where we had practised that he would close with a short statement about what he could bring to the company, he just about teleported himself out of there in his rush to get away, all carefully thought out self-promotions scattering in the dust of his haste.

He phoned me afterwards, quite dejected, saying he had completely blown the interview and never expected to hear back from them again. Fast forward 5 days, to where he has made his peace and chalked it all up to experience, and he gets a call this morning to say he's got the job! Like I said to him, if it was meant to be, then despite his less-than-perfect showing, he'd still get the chance; if not, his next interview would be a hell of a lot better. I guess it was meant to be! He starts on Monday 13th August, just three days before we go to Portugal. One of the really great things about this job is that it pays about £3,000 per annum more than all the other entry level positions he was looking at. It's alot more admin based than what he wants, but it's all about the first year or so of basic experience; once he has that he will be able to apply for the type of job he can sink his teeth into.

So, as you can imagine, we are both extremely happy, and I am very proud of him. When we came to London in 2005, he was still very lost in terms of where he was going and what kind of career he wanted for himself. In a year and a half, he decided on the path he would take, studied what he needed to get himself there and now has a brand new job in the industry. I feel like I should be taking a few tips from him!

In other news, this last week was one of the best we've had in a very long time. I volunteered at an RSPCA event on Saturday morning, and then came home and changed and we headed off to a boat party on the Thames - a sunset cruise. We couldn't really see the sunset of course, as despite the change of fortune this is still London and the weather was still shit, but at least it was warm enough to stand out on deck for the first three hours with our drinks. A boat party is a bit different from a normal party, because it feels like a lock-down, which psychologically makes people that extra little bit crazy. You board at 6pm, and you can't get off til the boat docks again at 12pm. It's a raging, out-of-control, mayhem-filled cracker of a party, with everyone in the best spirits you can imagine. It was organised by party promoter Friendz, which is a South African promoter, and the majority of people at their events are all saffas. Even more reason to rock the house (boat). Rock it we did - and when we finally docked at 12pm, the Awesome Foursome, Neutrino, OJ and G-Days took the party back to our place and continued well into the early hours.

Scarves and I had to be up at 12pm on Sunday to get ready for the UK Street Dancing Championships. It was a bit of a rough ride getting there, but I'm glad we went - the dancing was fabulous, and the experience well worth it. Since Scarves is the former dancer and I am the former gymnast, we have agreed to go to each other's beloved events when and where we can find them. Unluckily for me, the number of big league gymnastics events around London - and anywhere in the world, for that matter - is very tiny. Gymnastics has a very small following in comparison to many other sports, and the major events tend to be splashed across the world, making them hard to see even on TV. At least I get to watch the dancing though, which I do enjoy. I am determined one way or another to be in London in 2012 with tickets for the Olympics Gymnastics events.... it has always been one of my dreams, and this is the first time it has ever looked possible!