Shame that Duckie Salutes Kate Bush is on a Friday night, otherwise I'd so be there. Perhaps I'll have to make do with an iDuck usb key.

There's a reason I don't use GMail.

More encoded antisemitism (or not so), courtesy of Stephen Pollard.

Yom Kippur statistic - 20% of the people who rent movies from Blockbuster in Israel on Yom Kippur are fasting.

Thanks to Yoz, I have discovered The London Noise Map. Just put your postcode in - hours of fun for all the family.

Procrastination Nation

You can see from the volume of posts, reflective of my wandering mind, that I'm not exactly concentrating on the job. I'm supposed to get someone a finished marketing strategy by tomorrow, and I'm flagging. Badly.

Any (concentration) tips?

I read somewhere about how library's are used increasingly less - this story's great: someone returned a book to Inverness library 100 years late (admittedly, it was a reference book than should never have been borrowed in the first place, and the returner was not the borrower, if you see what I mean.)

I've talked about the Big Roll Overbefore (that's when demand for the world's energy outstrips supply), but now it's starting to happen. Oil prices were £46 a barrel yesterday, and are over $50 this morning.

Don't think this doesn't affect you. Sure, some of it's about politics and war, but some of it is about how we think about the earth's precious resources. Do something today that conserves energy/resources; turn of lights, don't leave the tap running when you brush your teeth, take the train or bus instead of the car.

Last winter's blackouts in New York, and energy failures in the UK weren't blips. They're the future. That's how the world's going to be from now on, and the only thing that'll change it if is individual's stop thinking it someone else/government's problem, and start beleiving it's their own.

Think about it. It's real. It's happening. It's now.

Turns out there is a Jewish conspiracy.

See, there's the Jesus Is My Homeboy t-shirt at Urban Outfitters, and then there's the Moses is My Homeboy t-shirt at Heeb magazine. Trouble is, the Heeb shopping cart is broken, so I can't buy it. And they take six week's delivery (I know the whole thing runs out of Josh's downtown appartment, cos I've seen it), and that's a long time to wait for instant gratification. Mmmm, what to do?

Everyone loves a Jewish girl. Or not.

Book news: Dishalicious sounds like a book I've already read. Thank the gods.

Special report in the Guardian on Jody Dunn, and her blog, (apparently a technique "borrowed" from American campaigning).

I've checked around online; all her mates at St Andrews love her, her poetry has been reviewed in the Sunday Times.. and here's her biography. Guess what? She used to be a DJ at Ashton's, which is just up the road from me.

The Geek Hierarcy. I'm loving this.

[via LMG]

Could you live without your mobile for six months? No more aproximeeting, for sure.

I can't believe that I've just heard a talking head on the Today programme (name to be verified later, when it goes online), when discussing Jack Straw inadvertantley shaking hands with Robert Mugabe - with whom we don't have diplomatic relations - defending it by saying (essentially) "all those black people look the same, it's hard to tell them apart." Both moderately shocking, and not very true.

Jeremy Rosen has covered the Piers Croke story at somethingjewish.co.uk.

Yay (very internet youth, I know). My friend has got hold of an uncorrected proof copy of Blink : The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, the new Malcolm Gladwell book, and I can read it. And it's not out till February.

Of course, I can't help wondering how long it takes to publish a book; seems an awful long time, but I'm a big Gladwell fan and excited to have stolen something of a march on the publishing industry. Wish Malcolm would update his website, though.

Last night, went to the "soiree" which is an every-so-often organised event, most recently at the Diorama, put together by my friend Arike.

Great evening; everything from spoken work, soca, blues, stand-up, and a fab guy called Alexander D. Great who does calypso on the BBC (somewhere, can't find him).

A couple of years ago, I went to one of these, and got chatting to a fantastic musician who was very taken with my couscous salad (everyone brings a dish to share), A couple of months later, I was rushing home from work, and a busker on the tube yells out "hey, Sasha!" and I think to myself how does that busker know my name, and when I turn around it's this amazing musician who's not looking so great in his busking gear. Small world, right?

If you're here following the Piers Croke story...
Read this first, and then this update.

You know that thing about the 70 virgins? Turns out it could be a mistranslation.

Piers Croke Update
I've had lots of mail from people who were upset that Piers Croke appeared to still be in his job. Just to fill the gap - the story was report in Friday's JC (although you have to be a subscriber to read it, sadly).

The gist of the story is that he gave a "fullsome apology" - digression; an English lecturer friend told me that fullsome used to mean false - and has been reinstated, but no longer has responsibility for personnel or press relations. Which, frankly, can only be a good thing. There was an anonymous mention of Ben's letter, and the response he got says Piers had been suspended.

I still haven't heard back from Pearl, the General Manager, but I'm sure I'll be the first person on her callback list Monday morning. Right.

Simon Garfield sings the praises of eBay in today's Observer, as it's coming up to their 5th UK anniversary.

I read Adam Cohen's book - The Perfect Store: Inside EBay - when I was in NY and it was a great insight into what's now a twentyfirst century institution, as well as a verb.
I'm an avid eBayer; mostly hanging out in vintage (pre 1939) clothes, and collecting crown ducal dripware, a market where I believe I may have artifically pushed up the price. Oh well.

Oh, I really want to see Cybill Shepherd's show, Cybill Disobedience at the Soho Theatre but I have just found out that tickets are £32.50. Sheesh. £15 for a stool, but those have gone.

Scary times at Stansted.

Another year, another Yom Kippur. I have a feeling of being spiritually cleansed, and feel slightly nervous about going out, as I don't want to ruin it, as I undoubtedly will.

I remember this; when I was about nine or ten, and fervent into my Jewish education (I used to go to extra cheder (hebrew school) on Tuesday, just because I wanted to), I took Yom Kippur very seriously.

Now, the custom is to (a) fast, (b) not wear leather shoes, (c) wear white. A lot of people where trainers, and I noticed yesterday, people wearing leather trainers. Maybe in the future people will think the minhag is to wear sports shoes, for some obscure reason.

So there I was in my white dress, and tennis shoes, and David, the then shul president, says to my dad, then on the Executive, "I don't know if it's anyone for tennis, or if she's a real frummer."

The sad thing about this story is that twenty something years on, my Dad and David are still on the Executive, which says something about (a) their commitment to community, and (b) how disinterested younger people often are in giving something back.

So Yom Kippur starts in a few hours (why not read an interesting experience I once had on Yom Kippur).

Yom Kippur's a big deal; spiritual, introspective, about self-improvement and repairing the world. So, if I've done anything to offend or uspet in the last year, please accept my apologies. And let's hope that we can do small things that make the world a better place next year.

Yom Kippur is not about mankind standing in judgement of humanity; it's about bigger stuff. Let's hope that Kenneth Bigley has a good Yom Kippur, and the insanity of Iraq doesn't get him. I know you can't read this, Ken, but there are lots of people thinking about you. Let's hope that his kidnappers see that their's is not to judge their fellow man.

C'mon, you know you want a USB Mini Desktop Aquarium.

I'm back! It's not often I use exclamation marks. And it's not often I sing the praises of Telewest (or, indeed, any other consumer service organisation. I am dispute driven, let's face it). But Iordan (he's Bulgarian) came twenty minutes into my alloted time slot (11 till 2), and fixed it efficiently and charmingly within about fifteen minutes. I was so happy I gave him a bottle of wine, and he in turn told me that the Black Sea is a fabulous holiday resort, although getting more expensive.

I think I might email his boss. I feel whole again. Me and that internet, we got a thang going on.

I have no idea what the music of The Delgados is like, but their new album is out this week (I saw a posted by Kilburn tube station).

A visual history of spam (and virus) email. Makes you think, this does.

Amazing story about the restitution of Nelson Mandela's diaries from 1969 to 1971.

I'm still in a dialup hinterland. For those of you on broadband who've forgotten what it sounds like, here's a 56K Modem Emulator.

Maybe I shouldn't buy an iPod just yet?

Let's face it, this is all very 1993. Early yesterday afternoon my cable modem did something strange to its lights that the Telewest people think means it's broken. Fine. Except no-one can come out and visit me till Friday between 11 and 2 (and we all know that means 2pm).

So I'm on dial-up. Remember that noise? The heady screech of phone lines that meant "yes, you're connected". I've even done the AOL free trial, so I get the stupid AOL woman saying "you have mail". She's annoying.

And, turns out the phone modem on my desktop PC doesn't work, I don't know if it's a driver problem or what, so I'm on my laptop, but can't get into my mail properly, now, because my sent mail is on my desktop PC. And of course IMAP on dialup with a 1GB mail file is not exactly gonna be my friend.

I'm a lot calmer than I would have been a couple of years ago. I've called the one client who was waiting for something, and told her there'll be a couple of days delay. WHen I got home las night from my writing class, instead of going straight to my PC, I talked to my flatmate and read a book.

There's something to be said for this (although I do feel a bit like it's the beginning of the war, and all the comms is buggered), but I also feel slightly helpless without the power of the internet instantly at my fingers.

More From The Editor's Postbag

Dear Madam,

I refer to our correspondence some months ago, when, in reply to an unprovoked attack on those who install UPVC windows in 1920's/30's houses, I made out, on behalf of my members, the logically unassailable arguments in favour of UPVC double glazing.

I recall a warning that my members should be treated carefully, otherwise there was a risk of retaliation.

Despite the fact that many persons have been targeted, by the unscrupulous fitting of UPVC double glazing in their period properties by my members, in response to the kind of criticism to which you have been a party, I wish to distance my members from any suggestion that it was they who took the present course of action in your home. I am able to say with confidence that if it had been my members, then they would have ensured that every window would have been replaced rather than a few.

I trust that now you have the benefit of UPVC windows, you will ensure that they are not removed. It must be correct that an attempt to remove such windows is a graver offence than merely criticising them.

Yours Faithfully,

The President
Fenestration Society of the Great North West

My sister just bought a Buddha Bag. I want one, but I don't think it'll fit in my house. Maybe I'll get a new house; you know how it is when the ashtrays are full, metaphorically speaking.

Nutters/Racists in the House?

Mostly, when I get round-robin emails, I mentally scrunch them up and lob them in the bin, but when I got this one, just before Yom Tov it made me sit up and take notice.

A woman applying for a job received this response:

Thank you for your CV, but you're not what we're looking for. The ideal person for us will be, first and foremost, an illustrator, as our advertisement specified - working with a pen and brush - with an interest in modelmaking, whereas your own forte is interior design and CAD.. .

Speaking personally however may I suggest that for European consumption you would be wise to omit details of your national service, which you describe with such evident and ingenuous pride? The natural reaction of most educated Europeans to the information you provide is likely to be "so it was she who guided those gunships to targetted assasinations and the murder of women and children with indiscriminate bombing and strafing of refugee camps (refugee camps!!!! 50 years after your compatriots drove them from their homes - and you have done nothing for them ever since.)!".

Most educated Europeans - and as a matter of fact a large proprtion of educated Americans too - now view 'Israel' as a brutal undemocratic (where are the votes for the indigenous inhabitants whom you have helotised?) colonial state, run by criminal who defy all international law and natural justice. And a sizeable proportion doubts the 'right' of Israel to exist . This has nothing to do with anti-semitism. nor is it racism - that is the kind of disgusting attitude which one might say is inherent in the idea of the state of Israel, and one might say among a large section of believing Jews elsewhere, who regard the rest of us as inferior and unclean - and not chosen by God.

What could be more racist than that? And what happens to those of your race who
dare to speak out against the wickedness that your fanatacsim inevitably leads to? they are murdered or have acid thrown in their faces like Yael Dayan just to put you in the picture

Piers Croke
Gisela Graham Limited.


Then, I get an email that someone called Ben Cohen sent to Piers. Piers is clearly unaware that because of the Jewish conspiracy, everyone who knows someone has emailed it to the whole universe. I, of course, am less surprised.

Piers

Like many other people, I've seen the email which you sent to a prospective Israeli applicant. And if you think you can shoot off emails like that without getting an enraged response, you'd better think again, mate.

I'm not going to dignify your ignorant, semi-literate, Jew-hating screed by taking on your argument(by the way, your text was replete with grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, which leads me to think that you're a moron, as well as a racist). What am I going to do - like many others, I imagine - is clog up your in-box with constant reminders of what a scumbag you are, Piers. Do you really think that anyone is going to go over the finer points of Jewish history and philosophy with you?

Do you actually have the cheek to consider yourself educated? You're a ghastly little anti-Semitic spiv; in another context and another time, you'd be lacing up your jackboots and dragging Jewish children off to the gas chambers.

But, Piers, we now live in this context and this time. I imagine that our racial discrimination laws will rapidly put an end to your sparkling career.

If you want to reply to me, go ahead. I'll even meet you if you want. But like most Jew-haters, you're probably too much of a coward.

Yours (very) sincerely

Ben Cohen

Then, I understand, Pearl Moonsamy, General Manager at Gisela Graham, issues a statement saying the firm is commited to equality of opportunity, and that Piers Croke has been suspended for improper use of Company communications. I have called Pearl three times this morning, but she hasn't yet had a chance to return my call.

So that sounds right and just. I called up again just now, and asked to speak to Piers and he's still there. Of course, I'm not in full possession of the facts; it's possible matters have moved on since I last got email on this, and I've not been able to verify the status with Pearl.

But through the joy of the internet, here's what I do know about Piers: he likes writing reviews on Amazon, (and thinks that deformity and sacrifice are what captures a child's imagination), that he likes writing letters (here's one to the Guardian, where he appears, somewhat bizarrely, to be likening the American justice system to sharia law), and he (or another Piers Croke, perhaps) is abig TS Elliot fan, and contributed to his 70th birthday symposium. I also know where he lives, but then so does everyone with access to 192.com.

The web is apparently being used tohold old media to account. Exactly. C'mon, old media. Do stuff faster, more responsively and in an informal way.

Let's face it; there are two kinds of people (people who divide people into two kinds of people.... ). People who think everyone's basically bad/evil, and people who think everyone's basically benign/good. I fall in the latter category: mostly it works out.

But enough about me. What do you think about what I think?

If you call Camden Council and ask for the housing department, the person on the switchboard says "housing" and you say "yes, housing" and she says "I have to repeat it, it's in my job description."

Well, Mike, you every wish is my command. Herewith, a handful of interior images from my fabulous trip to Derbyshire.

I wish I could see Graham Norton and Duran Duran on Jonathan Ross. Oh well.

"We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, we borrow it from our children".

Do you get really sick of 0870 customer service numbers that are "the price of a local call" but in these deregulated telecomms days, cost 3p to 7p a minute? You need Say No to 0870.

Did I mention that I saw Vivienne Westwood at the V&A? Obviously, you can't take in a camera, but a phone?

I had a dream...

...last night, that something bad happened to my house. For some reason, I was convinced that the boiler was burst, and I called my flatmate this morning and he said no, everything was fine.

I just got back from Manchester, and get off the motorway, and I'm looking forward to getting home. I always like walking/driving up to my house; it's a moderately well maintained Victorian detached house (converted into umpteen flats, of course), with all the original windows and fittings. It gives me a nice warm feeling.

Only this time, I get home and discover my neighbours who "own" the front three upstairs windows have replaced them with UPVC windows.

Remember how I talked about UPVC windows earlier in the year?

Now, the rational part of me knows that they're at the front of the house, it's probably noisy, there's less maintenance (although that's all shared, and we're due to decorate the outside next summer). But I feel like someone slashed the face of my beautiful house with a knife. I think that surely something that fundamentally changes the look of the house for everyone who lives here ought to have been discussed, although I'm sure my neighbours just thought they were doing improvements and it can only be a good thing.

I'm a little upset.

So I'm just about to hit the road (Jack), although I will obviously be coming back some more.

There's something about being back in Cheadle that I love. Especially Rosh Hashannah time. When I look around at all the people me and my brother and sister grew up with, I kinda think there were special creative juices in the Cheadle/Gatley soil between 1971 and 1981. Our contemporaries are film makers, musicians, journalists, and I just found out that Guy Swimer wonSpanish Pop Idol. (I like to think this is because I taught him in Sunday school, although I doubt it. I also was surprised to see him be reported as a "waiter from Stockport" as opposed to "a former ad executive from Cheshire" but that's the rags to riches thang for you.) I didn't see him in shul, but then with the overflow (sorry, parallel service) you don't get to see everyone.

So I've eaten my fill of honey cake and had more meals in three days that I previously thought was humanly possible. I've hung out with my nephews/niece, who are all growing up and at the cute age where you can have proper conversations with them, and saw Trauma last night, which is kind of scary. But good.

So, I'll be on the M56/M6(toll)/M1, if you need me.

Forget Sacha Baron Cohen: this is Naomi's ADL Ad and surrounding controversy.

I'm in Manchester. It's raining. Here are some more photos from my holiday.

I have a thing about buildings. Uzès is a mass of winding cobbled streets, a beautiful twelfth century (I think) church, and a relaxed mellowness that I loved.

See the picture at the bottom? I remember when I was a kid my parents had a photo hung up in their bathroom. It was an Athena-style seventies picture of a forest, framed with a deep back border, and a chrome frame. Under the picture was the legend: "of magic doors, there is this: you do not see them even as you're passing through." I spent a huge chunk of my childhood sitting in the littlest room trying to work out what it meant. For some reason, this picture reminds me of that.

It's the first day of the New Year (let's just say I had a lot of figs and pomegranate last night), and all I've got to show you are my holiday pics.

I am rather disturbed to discover, despite my dissing the old-lady comfort of the Van Dal brand, that I might actually consider wearing these boots.

Let me be the nth person today to say we live in troubled times. And I don't mean Iraq, or terrorism (threat), I mean I think we're losing it when it comes to basic human respect.

I just spent a four hour drive to Manchester listening to the reports on the alleged police violence at the Anti Hunting Ban demonstration in Parliament Square, the storming of the house, and the Commons being suspended. (Read the Guardian coverage here.)

Now, as you know, I'm not rural. I can't read a map, or talk to animals. I can negotiate a mobile phone contract at thirty paces, argue with a traffic warden (and win), and walk purposefully through the supposedly dangerous streets of Kilburn. I'm urban, almost as urban as they come. That's not to say I don't like the country; I love hill walking, and even cycling if it's flat, and I've spent many wonderful weekends in North Wales, The Peak National Park and Shropshire getting to know our beautiful country. (Although I did miss the web acess).

And I'm a vegetarian, of sorts.

This is all a precursor to saying that I don't understand about hunting, and I probably don't agree with it.

But I do believe in basic human respect, and giving people a democratic voice (ie the right to peaceful protest), and while I don't want to say "what's the country coming to?" I can't help wondering how we got in this fine mess.

That's my New Year's message, such as it is. Do you think they'll give me some Van Dal shoes and an old-lady handbag?

See, this always happens. I need to get going, the car's half packed, and I keep coming back to my PC with ideas I need to get out of my head.

Did I mention I saw the Hopper exhibition at the Tate, before I went to France? There was a great piece in the coffee shop about Hopper's influence on contemporary cinema: stills from Blue Velvet next to his work.

I have an Automat postcard on my office wall. Of course I've never been stood up.

I saw SUPER SIZE ME at the weekend. It took some serious amount of googling to find the McDonalds site (supersize me - the debate) which they advertise before the film, because, let's face it folks, once you put a hyphen in your web address, things aren't looking good.

It's a very engaging, compelling movie, where you know the punchline, but you're still surprised. Have to admit I looked away during the stomach stapling surgery - life's too short to have some images in my head.

What's it really about? We're not citizens anymore, we're consumers. Of food, energy, the earth's precious resources; it's a 24-hour leisure-go-round.

One thing: I've eaten less since Saturday night.

Happy New Year

Just packing my car for Manchester (I know, I know, I shouldn't be driving, but there are basically no trains, and I'm not really prepared to fly there anymore). I am armed with five honey cakes for my family, and lots of edible French goodies.

So, l'shana tova (it starts tonight), and here's to a sweet, peaceful year for all of us and the planet.

I will have web access, of course, so don't panic. If you were.

I've been worried about what Les Magoon calls the "the Big Roll Over" for a while. Basically, it's when the demand for oil outstrips supply.

Think of this: it was cheaper for me to fly return to Nimes than it was to get a taxi to Stanstead Airport. It's cheaper to fly to Manchester (although more hassle) than to get a train or drive. There's an environmental cost to our cheap weekends and no-frills travel, but no-one wants to pay it.

I think we live in a time where travel is as cheap and accessible as it's ever going to be. So get traveling - never seen the Emerald Buddah? Get thee hence before a trip to NY costs £5,000 and Asia is just out of everyone's reach.

This madness can't go on. There are too many cars, most of them only have one passenger, if you live in a city it's almost impossible to give up car ownership because the transport infrastructure is decaying, and if you're rural, there's hardly any transport infrascture to speak of, it costs about £25k to get solar panels on your house, and you can never resolve the proportional sharing with your neighbours if you're in a conversion, and we have worse weather than we've ever had.

There's a 24-hour gym in Swindon. Trouble is, by the time I get there, it'll be time to go back to work.

I'm still awake.

Some market-style images from Saint Remy and Isle sur la Sourge.

I bought some Camargue Fleur de Sel on holiday, but have just discovered Halen Môn

Obviously we're all gagging to get a peek at the latest pics from New York fashion week. Really.

I kinda am. In a low-value, not-that-important way, I something of a follower of fashion. I bought a pink corduroy jacket in Dorothy Perkins, because it's very "now". That's about as far as I go.

Tangentially about fashion, here's a thing I don't get. Remember when you used to put your winter boots away in April, or at the latest, May? Just like my Mum doesn't wear tights between Pesach and Rosh Hashannah, there used to be a sense of season.

This year, for the first time, it's OK to wear boots with summer clothes. Personally, I blame it on Kate Moss - she of the shortest-of-short skirts, and eighties suede pixie boots. It just makes me feel like people have their summer bodies on, but are wearing their winter legs.

But I'm pleased. I'm a boots person, deep down. So today, I'm jeans, t-shirt, and pink suede boots. So there.

The Guide Goes Blog.

I'm lovin' this. Obviously an overused phrase, but in this case, good. One day, we'll wake up, and the whole of the Guardian will be a weblog.

Wish I was in NY on 14th September for the Cupcake reading. Er, which is tonight. Go, gals.

A handful of images from my Provencal holiday. More to come, but say something, please.

I can't believe there's a band called Sheitgeist. You read it here first (in June 2002, and then more thoughtfully in January this year).

The Sims Online is tamagotchi for the wired generation.

I like to have one activity in my life that's time wasting in a slightly meditative way. It was an online community for a while, and now it's valuing property for no good reason. The Sims could be the next generation of subversive time management anti-tools.

I've been advised I shouldn't even try it, or I'll be hooked for life. Can't I even try it once, I asked? No, the first hit's always free.

Chickspeak - do you want Botox with that?

Yet another trend. Yet another daily e-letter. Sometimes it's 3pm before I've got through all the daily culturally relevant emails I'm signed up to.

Eastend Doors...

I bought a hat (OK, a beret) from Margotulle Accueil when I was in Provence. I love it when even a guy in a craft market has a website.

Just what I've always wanted... a free bus shelter.

Whoops, got one already.

Well, I'm back in the land of the living (aka wired) although me email and web host is not. While I have some unscedhuled downtime, thought I'd start looking for a new mail host.

Think my initial requirements list looks like this:
- POP3
- IMAP
- squirrel mail or good webmail
- excellent reliability
- opportunities for multiple website addresses without (huge) extra setup costs
- good phone support if things go wrong
- reasonable price

... any ideas/recommendations?

Kylie Minogue is having a late lunch in La Maison du Village in Saint Remy right now. She didn't recognise us.

brief web access: had a wonderful day admiring the medieval city of Uzès, whiling away an hour or two in the Place des Herbes over a herbal tea. Stopped at the Pont du Gard (Roman aqeuduct) on the way back. Yesterday, went to the Sunday antique market at Isles sur la Surge. Read four books, deep conditioned my hair, slept in the shade, read a Sunday newspaper from cover to cover, and generally feel like a new woman.

Spending the day in Uzès, turning into a piece of pottery artisanale.

Mil Millington gets 5/10: compelling enough to get to the end but didn't really do it for me. Today's book: Holy Cow! by Sarah MacDonald - quite moving, spotted a couple of my mates who were mentioned in passing: 7/10. Tommorrow's book: The Making of Henry by Howard Jacobson.

Mil Millington's so f***ing ironic that the whole book is like an authorial aside. It's making me tired.

I need to read a book that isn't a first person narrative.

Finished yesterdays book turned out to be 6/10 although there were a quite a few typos. I held back the desire to get out a red pen and edit. Just the average chick-lit read, really. Now reading Mil Millington's A Certain Chemistry it's okay in a post-modern, self-knowing way.

Sitting by the pool under a fig tree, reading Dot.Homme by Jane Moore. It's very 4/10 she spells internet with a capital 'i' and somebody has just jpeg'd her a photo. No, really.

Consider This A Postcard.

I'm in Saint-Remy de Provence, on dial-up, with a French keyboqrd. It's
amazing: a beautiful hotel, with a pool and fig trees, and small (ten rooms), and nice owners who showed us around and teach art classes; OK, I had to get up at 4am, but it was worth it.

I am mellow. I am relaxed. I have 6 or 7 books to read, a shady tree to sit under, great company, and it turns out that Saint-Remy is like the Hampstead of Provence; more chichi shops and restaurants than we'll get through in a week.

Have fun. I will.

There was the largest spider in my bathroom at 4am, but I left it for my flatmate. Hiya K.

Yep, it's 4.35am. No, I don't have jetlag. I'm going to the South of France in ten minutes (easyJet, or some such airline where the cheap flights leave way early), and we'll be there at 10am.

I know, it's one long holiday. It's been a while, though.

Unsure of internet access scenario; I may or may not be gone some time. (Although, as you know, the withdrawl symptoms usually get to me, so I'm sure you'll be seeing me briefly).

Be good, now.

Once, I went on a moderately hippy holiday to a Greek island where you could do all sorts of classes. I took belly dancing, and it was me, ten other women, and a bloke who was clearly exploring his feminine side, as he dressed as a woman for the whole two weeks, and brought all his own sparkly outfits for the dancing. He was good, and it's hard for the guys, with the hip thing.

Six months later, I'm sitting in a meeting at PWC, with one of (and their huge, so they have loads of them), their Marketing Directors, all besuited, and he leans forward, and says to me, "haven't we met somewhere before?".

Didn't recognise him in his civvies.