173. A breath of fresh air

And I'm not even being metaphorical. No. For once in my smart-arsey word-driven life I am being LITERAL.

Drove to the beach on Friday evening (or rather, Herself drove) after a tiring week and an unusually busy and tiring fortnight. Stepped out onto the deck just as the sun was dipping towards the horizon, and took a deep breath. Pure deliciousness. Quite literally, a breath of fresh air.

That one lungful was just the beginning. By the time we got back to London at 7.30 on Sunday evening I was feeling all fresh and bouncy again. Not like a permanently enraged, germ-ridden commuter. Not like an ancient old crone with a reasonably demanding new job. Not like a slightly neglectful, distracted girlfriend/friend/daughter/sister.

Fresh, I tell you. With added bouncy.

So the old adage is true, it turns out. There is nothing like a breath of fresh air.

(Thanks also to: Herself, the Hound, 10 hours sleep on two consecutive nights, homemade cheeseburgers, a bacon and egg bagel, a slow walk on the seashore, Blue Valentine, sunshine and a brisk nor'easterly, Angry Birds Rio – and last, but not least, an afternoon screening of The American President.)

172. Pavlovian Reactions... or not.

So, Pavlov's dogs started drooling at suppertime, whether there was food or not. Right?

I apply hand lotion and immediately have to pee.

Is that the same thing?


I listen to the 23-year-olds at work talking 'Yeah, it's like forty quid but it's gonna be, like, awesome, and it's just like an awesome day with like loads of cool bands and it ends at ten so we could like go to the pub afterwards or something' and I immediately feel both bored and tired. Which I'm sure is the same thing.

But because I am not a dog, it occurs to me that I am both Pavlov, and his dogs. So at least I am not alone in my psychological suggestibility.

171. Frazzles

Frazzles are fake rashers of bacon, in the form of crisps. They are extremely salty, taste nothing like bacon, and are incredibly delicious. They are very good if you have a hangover...

Hangovers essentially require the liberal and regular application of carbs and sugar - which is challenging to somebody on a diet. But I have just discovered that a carton of Ribena and a packet of Frazzles pack a considerable punch above their calorific weight. It must be so nice to have a fast metabolism.

I don't know if there's anybody still out there. If you're still hanging on, thank you, and I promise to try harder. Don't give up!

170. A lunchtime stroll

Didn't leave the building yesterday, despite the fact that it was a beautiful day. Decided not to be so pathetic today and walked along the tow path. High tide in this bit of Hammersmith is really high, so suddenly the mighty Thames is lapping the shore only a few feet away and gurgling like the river in all our bucolic dreams. The ducks and coots and swans paddle serenely and even the sculls glide elegantly along.

The River Cafe, that bastion of rich glad-handing, is surprisingly meek to look at. It really does look like the works canteen of the architecture practice next door (which of course it was, originally). They have a verdant array of vegetables and herbs growing outside the back door - almost enough to mask the clinking glasses and braying voices. (I'm only jealous.)

Along a bit further, up to the road for a bit, then back to the riverbank. Some of this prize real estate isn't privately owned - London's good like that, sometimes. Washing hangs out on the line, and I can hear little children playing somewhere nearby. I've gone far enough for now, so I turn tail and head for my desk. The afternoon suddenly doesn't seem so unfriendly, and I have Spring in my step.

169. Lemons

What would I do without lemons? It's a joke in our house that whenever Herself goes to the supermarket she has to buy milk. We ALWAYS need milk, apparently. My foible is lemons.

I need lemons for all cooking. I need them for anything involving tonic or Coca-Cola and if I'm feeling toxic I need them for putting in a cup of hot water. Without lemons it is not possible to make a proper Hot Toddy - the closest thing to a cure for the common cold.

I need lemons to smell - they make me think of summer. I need lemons to provide the base note of every perfume I've ever liked. I need them to hang provocatively from trees all over Italy, just begging to be plucked and smuggled into grey old Britain.

I am going to try preserving them. I think they are probably preserving me.

168. My Own Clothes

No, I have not finally been sent to prison or an asylum and no I'm not working in a supermarket or for the Post Office, but when I did my short stint in the City and had to wear smart clobber every day I did not like it, not one little bit.

Now I have been returned to the land of the creative dept, and I'm sitting here in jeans, a T-shirt and my brand new duck-egg blue daps, I am happy. I feel like myself. Looking smart sometimes is a pleasure. Having to do it every day just to sit behind a desk is weird and pointless. A posh lawyer once described his life to me and it was a series of quadrangles - prep school, Eton, Oxford, Middle Temple, a coffin. He'll have spent all the days of his life in a suit, in a quadrangle.

But I'm happy for the city boys and the lawyers to stay in their suits, so that I can feel grateful for my freestyle clobber. It's still a suit, in its own way, but its permutations are endless.

167. The new kid in town

In three months, I have started two new jobs. The second one is permanent. It's MINE.
I have had a lot of jobs, and some things are always true:

1) You will always spend at least three weeks thinking that literally every single thing that comes out of your mouth makes you sound like a cock.

2) You will wonder if you will ever know everybody's name

3) You will wonder if you will ever make a friend in this new place

4) You will drink a lot with your pals to compensate for being a bit small and lonely at work.

I know the likely outcome to all four. Doesn't stop the old brian whirring. I am trying NOT to do too much of 4 because I am old and tired, but because I am old and experienced 1 is proving to be not too much of a problem.

One thing's for certain - before I know it I will have forgotten what it felt like to be new. Some things never change.