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This is stolen from Jenni, though I’ve seen plenty of people do it over recent days. I’ve not filled out one of these blog memes in years, so I thought I’d reminisce, albeit a few days late.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Ate snails. Wore (fake) ugg boots. Moved in with a boy.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next this year?
I didn’t make new year’s resolutions, but I did make a bunch on my 25th birthday. Out of ten, I’ve managed to keep two of them. This is why I haven’t made any this year.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yep! Cecily was born in December. She’s gorgeous, just like her parents.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, I got off lightly this year.

5. What countries did you visit?
America.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
More time to do all the stuff I want to do. More money to fund it. More holidays to forget about all of it for a bit.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
For very selfish reasons; April 10th (my last day at Shiny Media), April 20th (my first day at The Nod) and August 10th, the day we got the keys to the new flat.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Surviving the first half of the year.

9. What was your biggest failure?
I left a lot of things unfinished, especially my own projects. That said, I think after so many years of living for my work, I quite enjoyed having a bit of time away from the computer, even if a lot of it was just spent lazing in front of the telly.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nope, nothing major.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Tough one. It’s a tie between the sofa and the bed. Both get plenty of use!

12. Where did most of your money go?
See above! Also the trip to Vegas, and plenty of clothes along the way.

13. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going to Vegas, mainly!

14. What song will always remind you of 2009?
‘I’m Yours’ by Jason Mraz. I first heard him perform it about four years ago, but in 2009 you couldn’t move without hearing it. Apparently it spent the whole year in the top 100 singles chart, so that’ll be why.

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) happier or sadder?
A lot happier. I was massively stressed this time last year.

b) thinner or fatter?
I don’t think there’s much in it. I’ve managed to stay just on the wrong side of chubby all year.

c) richer or poorer?
Richer. For now! Clearing my credit card in November debt was a big accomplishment!

16. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Working on my own stuff, writing my ill-fated novel, spending time with friends.

17. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worrying about stuff that’s not my problem.

18. Did you fall in love in 2009?
I was already in love.

19. What was your favourite TV program?
There were a few I loved: Castle, Misfits, the Torchwood 5-parter, and I finally started watching The Wire.

20. What was the best book you read?
Daphne DuMaurier’s Jamaica Inn. Hilariously over the top Gothic fabulousness I should have read years ago.

21. What was your favorite film of this year?
For unashamed action fun, Star Trek and the accidentally hilarious 2012. I also really enjoyed In The Loop and 500 Days of Summer.

22. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was 26, and I didn’t do very much at all, just dinner with some Very Important People In My Life.

23. What kept you sane?
Fab friends, amazing family, lovely boyfriend.

24. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I had a bit of a thing for Aidan Turner. Why? Um…just look at him!

25. Who did you miss?
Kim. I miss Kim and I WANT HER BACK. For those who don’t know, Kim worked on Catwalk Queen with me (and continues to edit it now) but she now does so from Australia. Lucky Australia.

26. Who was the best new person you met?
I met loads of lovely people this year, but I will single out the team behind Domestic Sluttery. What an amazing, talented bunch of women.

Have a fantastic 2010, everyone. I hope this year is bigger and better than ever.

I’m not making any resolutions this year, and I won’t talk of plans and schemes and big ideas for the next 12 months because right now I’m just enjoying a bit of time off and not thinking about all that.

But all that will change soon enough…

Disclosure: You’ll probably see quite a few bloggers talking about Paris in the next day or so. You could just pretend there’s ’something in the air’ that’s making them discuss it. The truth is, there’s a competition running to promote Le Nouveau Paris and I couldn’t resist joining in…

The last time I went to Paris, I saw Eurostar, a cab, the inside of a posh hotel, a cab, and Eurostar again. I didn’t get to climb the Eiffel tower, I didn’t break into song on the steps of the Sacre Coeur (though I may have done that in my youth, surrounded by my school choir friends) I didn’t get to queue for ages at the Louvre, and I definitely didn’t get my wallet nicked out of my back pocket on the metro (*coughDadcough*).

I wasn’t, you dirty minded fools, there for a quick hotel suite ‘rendezvous’ (look! I used some French). I was actually at a blogger event for a skincare brand. It was lovely being taken to Paris, but the truth is I could have been anywhere. The only evidence that I was in Paris was the incredibly well-dressed PR person and the tiny portions of incredibly rich food we were served.

So I would love to go back. And this time I’d like to have the time to properly explore the places I’ve only seen from cabs or coaches in the past. I might even get to put that oft-forgotten French A’level to good use.

The Paris trip I’d like would be just like one of my favourite films, Funny Face. I would look like Audrey Hepburn, my boyfriend would be able to dance like Fred Astaire, and there would be a lot of pink, a lot of fun and more aspirational fashion than the latest issue of Vogue. I wouldn’t go as far as to pose in front of famous French buildings with balloons, but…ok, maybe I would!

The problem with my previous trips to Paris (as a teenager on French exchanges and choir trips) is that I’ve never had the funds to really enjoy myself. Staying in Formule 1 hostels in dodgy suburbs, you’d be forgiven for believing Paris is an absolute hole.

Of course, it’s not. It’s just not made for 16 year olds in bootcut jeans with backpacks and Brummie accents. Like Los Angeles, Paris is a city that’s best enjoyed if you have the money to do things; to stay in the nicest hotels, eat in the best restaurants and shop in the exclusive boutiques.

Hotel and restaurant wise, I’m sorted. My day job allows me to research these kind of things and call it ‘work’. We have a whole section devoted to the most stylish and A list places in Paris, and I’d be printing it out for reference. Hotel Lancaster definitely looks like my cup of tea.

Fashion wise, while I might never fit into the tiny clothing that Dior and Hermes stock for their ultra-chic Parisienne clientelle (especially after a Ladurée macaron or seven) I would definitely make up for it with handbags and shoes. I’d take this woman as my inspiration, but wear ballet flats (Repetto, natch) so I don’t tire halfway down the Champs Elysees. So many snooty shop assistants, so little time.

Once the shopping was done (if that ever happened) I’d head to the Eiffel tower, then the metro station named after Alexandre Dumas for cheesy photos (the boy’s a big fan – of Dumas, not having his photo taken). I’d finish my afternoon in Montmartre. Here I could stop pretending to be Audrey for a minute and pretend to be Amelie instead. This would involve a red dress, a spoon and an ill-advised fringe (maybe).

Evenings in Paris mean only one thing. Long walks by the Seine and a hundred and one photo ops, followed by dinner with champagne and an indulgent cocktail (dress).

Call me predictable, but my tolerance for London tourists having worked in Covent Garden (on and off) for a good four years has made me feel I have free reign to act like one myself in other cities. If I went back to Paris, I would gleefully do all the stuff I was supposed to do years ago, visit all the tourist haunts, spend way too much money and bore you all with 700 flickr photos at the end of it all. If you’re lucky, I’ll bring you back some runny cheese…

Firstly, this week’s moonlighting involved a short guest contribution on the wondrous Den of Geek.

Remember when I used to write about fashion? Nah me neither.

Also, I now have a Tumblr. You may think ‘why in God’s name has she got herself another thing to update when she never updates this one.’ Well, my faithless friend, I have it so I don’t fill this here blog with random pictures with one line links underneath them, and save it for proper stuff like product reviews that don’t fit anywhere else and rants about customer service.

To finish, here’s a picture of me in ridiculous sunglasses outside the Mirage in Las Vegas. I finally uploaded all my pics to Flickr. I look fat in all of them…which is good, because one day I’m going to need a ‘before’ photo.

This time last year I was getting all excited about the arrival of friends from all over the country, spending ludicrous amounts of money on tiki-themed decorations, and wondering how many boxes of wine (yes, I said boxes) I would need to keep the masses hydrated. This year my birthday will pass by without fanfare, and I’m quite happy about that. But it won’t stop me doing a very self-indulgent wishlist on my blog…

Hell Bunny Casino Print dress £24.99

Yes. I’d wear it in Vegas. Possibly with a matching headband like Katy Perry. Mostly because I know it would annoy the people I’m there with, but also because it’s a dress with playing cards on it, it’s only £25 and it’s available in my size. This is fate.

A Samsung NC 10 Netbook

My laptop is both cheap and heavy. I want one of these beautiful little things so I can write my novel on planes, trains, buses and the tube. And then get mugged.

Nicholas Kirkwood Patent Platforms £290

I’m sure nobody loves me enough to spend £290 on a pair of shoes for me. But these used to be £480, so they’re actually quite a bargain if you think about it. No? Well, they’re still fabulous, and if not these, one day a pair of Nicholas Kirkwood’s will be mine.

Panda Necklace $50 Betsey Johnson

I know for a fact I’m going to end up buying this when I’m in the US. Watching an episode of Planet Earth the other day, I actually got teary over a Panda and her baby. I am clearly getting soft in my old age. Also, I love Betsey Johnson for sticking two fingers up to trends and just making kitschy, colourful stuff every year.

…and that’ll do for now!

Did you know things like this existed within the M25? Sprawling woods full of winding paths and happy squirrels?

How about this? A lovely little disused castle hidden away on the top of a hill?

A rose garden with killer views in the grounds of a now demolished building from a couple of hundred years before you were born, perhaps?

Or a tiny little meadow?!

On Sunday, Charles and I walked the first section of the Capital Ring, a 78 mile walk around London that goes through as much greenery as possible. At one point, it sweeps just past my flat and through Crystal Palace park,somewhere I’m a little more familiar with, but the first section goes from Woolwich to Falconwood, an area in the borough of Greenwich that neither of us had a clue about.

We started the day by getting the Thames Clipper from Waterloo to Woolwich, and then set about the 7.1 mile section that weaved first along the Thames path, before cutting through gorgeous parks, beautiful woodland and one scary patch of open common that Charles described (quite accurately) as “slightly murdery.” And he lives in Stockwell.

Despite the fact we knew the walk took in green space as often as possible, we weren’t quite ready for the amazing ruins of two old houses (Jackwood House and Castlewood House), the strange Severndroog Castle (described aptly in the route guide as ‘eccentric’) and the lovely Oxleas Meadow (think Primrose Hill but with rural views) and its gorgeous accompanying wood. Without doing this walk, I never would have known such amazing green spaces existed so close to London. It wasn’t until we got on what felt like the loudest tube in history to go home that we realised just how quiet and peaceful it had been.

70-odd miles in various sections is going to take us some time – especially with the logistics of having to get to and from places like Hounslow and Greenford for the northern sections – but we’re hoping to complete the whole thing eventually. Obviously, I’ll keep you posted!

When you live somewhere, you never get round to doing the touristy things that are on offer, which is why yesterday – aged 25 – I went to the zoo for the first time.

I think this was my first time at a zoo ever, in fact. I’ve been to Sigfried and Roy’s Secret Garden, but that doesn’t really count being in the middle of a casino, and having grown up so close the West Midlands Safari Park, there was never any need to go anywhere that involved walking to look at animals.

But on a surprisingly sunny April Sunday, I’ve now established there really is nothing better to do but wander round Regent’s Park debating whether there’s anything cuter than a baby meerkat.*

I took loads of photos, but since I seem to have misplaced my card reader, you can’t see them. Instead, I will leave you with a video from the 1970s Mike Leigh TV play ‘Nuts In May’, with Alison Steadman singing the song I hummed all day while walking round. When you watch it, you’ll understand.

*it turns our there is, it’s called a Prairie Dog, and its bark sounds like a little girl sneezing.

[image: Picasa]

It’s my fault. We watched an episode of Masterchef (where the wannabe chefs ended up at in-house restaurant Suka) and I mentioned that The Sanderson is my favourite hotel in all of London. It may look fairly unassuming from outside, but the Philippe Starck interiors make me want to rob a bank just so I can afford to deck out my flat the same way. The staff are all model-esque beautiful. The lifts are a talking point in themselves. The whole place is kitsch, ironic heaven. We’re talking miles of curtain and glass, unexepected seating throughout, Venetian glass everywhere, lip-shaped sofas in the lobby and dark, light-show lifts that look like the solar system. I’ve been lucky enough to visit a few times for press events, but I’ve never seen what the rooms look like until this weekend.

Charles, being both brilliant and cunning, told me not to make plans for the weekend and arranged for me to be at Oxford Circus at 3.20pm. All I knew was I needed an overnight bag and a nice dress. It was only when I got into town that I learned the plan. He’d booked me in for an afternoon massage at my favourite hotel. When I was done, I was to phone him again for further instructions.

One heavenly (if thorough) aromatherapy massage later, I was pummelled and prodded to perfection and ready for the next bit. It turns out the boy had been happily ensconced in a room on the floor above for hours, watching the rugby and generally applauding himself for being able to to watch the peanut-hugging egg chasers and be a good boyfriend at the same time.

After I joined him, all over-excited grins and slightly sore back from the massage (I’m feeling the benefit now) we spent the rest of the afternoon drinking overpriced champagne on the sleigh-like king sized bed in our ridiculously decadent, glass-and-curtained room before a highly anticipated dinner at Suka.

That, I must admit, was one of the lower points of the weekend. Though the food was lovely (especially the pudding) it wasn’t outstanding, and the atmosphere was busy, the music was loud and the staff were so attentive I wanted to tell them to get lost a couple of times. In short, it was nice, but not as nice as I’ve had elsewhere.

We finished with cocktails at the Purple Bar, a tiny but scarily opulent little hideaway reserved for hotel guests and people who know the right people. It was all tiny chairs, huge martini glasses and so many Venetian mirrors you didn’t know where to look. It also had the bar of my dreams, with an entire wall lined with every cocktail ingredient you could ever imagine. I loved it.

Suka redeemed itself in the morning with breakfast. A buffet including banana bread is always a winner, and my eggs benedict were gorgeous…what’s not to love about heart-attack inducing hollandaise?

I should finish off with a paragraph of schmaltzy talk of just how lucky I am to have someone who’d do this for me. But I hate ‘isn’t my boyfriend brilliant’ people, I know he will already be embarassed enough by this (despite asking me countless times when I was going to write about him) and, quite honestly, my mentionitis is already bad enough. So I’ll just say this instead…

Best Weekend Ever.

On Monday morning at 9.15am, I waved goodbye to one of my best friends. She’s the second person in twelve months that I’ve lost to Australia. Bloody Oz!

Jojo was my housemate for the first two years of Uni, and my best friend (well, one of them) and holiday buddy following that. Even though she was in Lincoln and I was in London, we managed to keep in touch, see each other fairly frequently and cause mayhem everywhere we went. I have such brilliant memories of our days as students, terrorising the staff in the pub round the corner, making margaritas in the kitchen, wondering whether our other housemate really was eating toilet paper…knowing she’s not just a couple of hours away is a killer.

But, I know she’s going to have the most amazing time. Her visa lasts a year, so she will be back eventually, but as much as I know the next twelve months will go by in a flash, it seems like an eternity to be without the girl who rides motorcycle, swears like a trooper, drinks like a fish and then goes home to tend to her vegetable garden and play with her cat.

I managed not to cry until today.