Well, that's torn it...

I have to apologise for the lack of blogging lately - especially to Anna who has been asking where I've been.

I'd love to say that I've been so busy planning my wedding to George Clooney / Ewan McGregor / anyone who'll have me that I haven't had a chance to update, but that would be a blatant lie; so I can only say sorry and blame my lengthy commute for stealing my time in the evenings when I should be writing.

On the plus side - apart from complete essentials - my shopping has been non-existent. Well, apart from the 'work trouser emergency' caused by over-enthusiastic leaping into the car at the end of the day and my lovely linen deciding that the strain was too much for its delicate weave.

Buttock exposure is all very well if you're Lady Gaga but in my line of work, it might be slightly frowned upon during a morning meeting, even if you are wearing rather lovely lingerie.

I had no choice but to replace my torn trews; however, instead of my usual hoovering up of Hobbs, Jaeger or Whistles for that perfect pair of black trousers, I headed for H & M.

The pair I picked up there may have had a zero less on the price tag but you know what? They're still black, they're still linen, they're still perfect for work and my rump isn't being revealed, so I'd say that was money well spent.

Temptation...

Barely a day has gone by this year when I haven't received an e-mail, text, letter or call from my lost love, desperate to see me and unable to understand why I've so abruptly called a halt to our union.

And while my heart leaps with every contact, I know that I can't give in.

E-mails and texts are deleted, letters are shredded and calls left unanswered, but the temptation is always there; the temptation to push my way through their door (leaving my fingerprints as the evidence of my faithlessness for all to see on the plate glass panels), throw my clothes to the floor and rush into the arms of my love for just one more dalliance, one more thrill...

But that's my weakness and I know it wouldn't be 'just one last time'. The memory of that moment of bliss would lead to more and more reckless behaviour and I can't take that risk, not just now anyway.

Apart from the obvious guilt of breaking my promise, I'm not feeling toned and trim enough for all that unzipping in front of floor to ceiling mirrors.

I can only hope that by the time I do return - leaner, meaner and without a shopping ban - that my beloved Jaeger will welcome me once more...

World Holocaust Week

It's World Holocaust Week and today I was privileged enough to meet Eva Schloss, the step-sister of Anne Frank.

It was both humbling and captivating listening to Eva today, so if you can, please take the time to find out more about the story of her life by clicking here.

We all have problems in our lives - some big and some small - but sometimes it just takes finding out about the courage of others and their struggle for survival to put it all into perspective.

Monte Carlo or bust!

I'm rather sad to report that after an absence of nearly 40 years, the Monte Carlo rally kicked off in my home town of Glasgow...

... and I missed it!!!!

The irony being that it was because I was stuck in a car on the motorway, which wasn't motoring in any way. My chequered flag will remain unfurled for another year.

But, during my time stuck in the car, ranting at no-one in particular about my stationary predicament, and after seeing a car in full rally regalia pass me in the other lane (I'd thought they would all have been transported on trailers), I realised that I hadn't set myself a target to achieve before 50, and suddenly I knew exactly what it was going to be.

Before 40, it was to write a book and a chart topping single - I certainly didn't achieve the latter and some people might cheekily suggest that I didn't achieve the former either - but it was good to have something to aim for that initially seemed so out of reach.

What I've decided on leaves me eight years to clear my debt, learn basic mechanics, find myself a 1968 MG BGT (I'm trying to be realistic but if I win the lottery between now and then, it'll be an Aston Martin or an E-type Jag) and gear up for a rally.

Now, which is more 'me' - Monte Carlo or the Mille Miglia?

13 - Unlucky for some

Thirteen - my lucky number.

Well, it has to be really when it's my birth date; although having my 13th birthday on Friday 13th was a little freaky, but that's another story for another time.

Anyway, that's just waffling to get away from me having to make my confession. And here is it - on Day 13 of my Not Shopping, I bought something!

Now before you start shouting at me, I know it was bad but it wasn't something for me, and besides I've already been told off by my boss, Andrew, who spied the bag, looked at me over the top of his glasses (he means business when he does that) and tersely told me, "I've been reading your blog...".

Basically, I'd bought Kevin a book and his favourite little Leone sweets, which came to just a penny short of £13. I'd been a horrible grump to him and felt that more than just a mumbled "Sorry" was required*.

So, should I abandon 13 as my lucky number now that it signifies my teeny tumble from the wagon? I had thought so, until I realised that £10 of the money I had in my wallet was from a lottery ticket win, so really I'd only spent £3!!

Altogether now - "I should be so lucky; lucky, lucky, lucky!"

*If you ever find yourself in a situation where more than "Sorry" is required, I'd recommend a small peace offering - trust me, it's considerably cheaper than sulking overnight at a hotel