• covering a court case;
• phoning my first ever source or contact;
• interviewing over the phone;
• writing up my first stories; and
• doing a Vox Pop.

Vox Pop is short for vox populi, which is Latin, and means voice of the people. Basically if you see a small mugshot photo of someone in a newspaper, magazine or other publication with a quote and their name and age, that is a Vox Pop. It’s asking random members of the public a simple question such as “Do you like broccoli and why or why not?” or “What do you like most about Christmas?” and quoting them. I managed to get nine people to speak to me and have their photo taken in an hour. I’d say it was a success.

Here are links to my articles:

Maverick Pub

Trading estate racing

Computers 4 Africa

The Vox Pop will be up shortly. Keep checking back for more over the next week. www.chessingtonlive.co.uk

Twitter is a strange creature. You only get 140 characters in which to express yourself. It’s funny; you would think that, as someone who wants to write, I would see Twitter as a further nail in the coffin of the written language. Well, call me a hypocrite then, because I have a love-hate relationship with Twitter.

On one hand, like Facebook, the ability to keep in touch with friends and family all over the world is definitely appealing. It could be part sheer curiosity, it could be part generally interested in their daily lives but either way, being able to instantly see what so many people are doing is an amazement of the 21st century.

Twitter, too, has the ability to connect thousands, even millions, of people across the globe. That’s pretty amazing when you consider how much technology has progressed in just 100 years.

On the other hand, I wonder what is so important as to be sent out in a 140-character message that cannot be lengthened into an email or even…a letter! Shock, gasp, whoa there Old Timer! I’m not saying I want to go back to writing letters, far from it, but it does seem to me that Twitter was designed for egomaniacs. “I am so important. Everyone must ‘follow’ me and I will keep you entertained with snippets throughout the day.”

Obviously, this is not the case for most on Twitter and it’s certainly not the case for me. I joined because a good friend tends to use this more than Facebook and I want to keep in touch with that person. I also wonder what contacts or ‘friends’ I might make as I undertake my journalism training. Perhaps they Twitter and so should I; or perhaps not, we shall see.

I barely use Facebook these days. I think I’ve posted a status about once a week, or less, for the last few months. I’m not a daily updater; I’m more of a big event person. There are plenty of “look at me” people on Facebook and I’m sure these people love Twitter too. Funnily enough, it turns out that even though I have a blog, I’m not nearly as egotistical as I thought, at least when it comes to Facebook.

So it does seem slightly odd to join Twitter knowing that hardly anyone will actually want to follow me. But in the end I just thought “why not?” I gave in to Facebook a year ago; why not also give in to Twitter? I am just a 21st century girl, I suppose, but in the end I may just end up being a “twat.”

Does anything else so epitomise the indolent sloth, the splattered-shirted, fat-arsed torpor of modern living? The manufacturer claims this abomination is designed for people who ‘don’t have the time or knack to prepare a boiled egg’.

Who are these hard-pressed halfwits? There’s no ‘knack’ to boiling an egg: you only need a watch. And it takes less time (and is usually easier) than having a shower, getting dressed or copulation, and you wouldn’t believe someone who told you they didn’t have the ‘time or knack’ to do those.

If we’re to do anything about obesity in this country, and save our streets from seas of wobbling, nyloned buttocks, we must coax people into the kitchen.

I tend to agree. If you are so stupid and/or lazy so as not to know how to boil an egg and/or be arsed to boil an egg, you do not deserve to go and buy a boiled egg in a shop. You deserve to either not be allowed to procreate or a whack upside the head with a shout of ‘get off your lazy arse!’

Now to the best part: our new house! We have finally upgraded from a modestly-sized one bedroom flat that felt increasingly smaller with every day to a modestly-sized three bedroom house. We have moved from Wimbledon to Chessington; and from just down the road from the tennis to just down the road from Chessington World of Adventures theme park. It’s been a big change.

We’ve been there for just over a week now. We’re still living amongst boxes and still awaiting furniture deliveries but it is glorious to have all of those wonderful things that don’t always come with a flat: dining room, garden, office, second bedroom, garage; we even have a utility room. Our garden is full of beautiful flowers and plants left over from the owners. I just know I’m going to kill them. I do not have a green thumb that I’m aware of. I think I’ve killed several cacti in my life.

Hubby’s life is now complete: he has a shed and a barbecue. Mine is better now I have a dishwasher and a king size bed. I cannot say enough about how lovely our house is. It is not overly large but it fits us just fine. Eventually I’m sure we’ll grow out of it just as we did our flat but for the moment we are very happy bunnies. And now my friends have even less of an excuse to not come visit. I have a spare bedroom just waiting for guests!

The first time I noticed a major difference in my waistline was August when several pairs of trousers were falling off of me. I’ve gone down one whole size in most shops and in Marks and Spencer I can now fit into clothing two sizes smaller. I feel a lot better and am enjoying running more and more, hence the 5K Race for Life I’m undertaking (hint, hint; see top of page to donate).

I’ve now encountered a small problem: I think my feet and hands are shrinking along with the rest of me. This week I’ve worn a pair of shoes that I bought last year and were always comfortably spacious. In other words they didn’t pinch or squeeze but they weren’t falling off my feet either. This week, however, they were very loose and falling off my feet. Now it seems the same is happening to my hands and wrists. My wedding rings are close to being loose enough to fall off with a too swift hand motion and my watch has become very loose in its original notch but if I take it down one it is slightly too snug. While all of this is good news on the whole, it is slightly annoying and frustrating on a daily basis. Apparently I’m not alone. A colleague who also lost a great deal of weight told me his feet went down a whole shoe size. He said it freaked him out, which I can understand. Currently, I’m just more annoyed than freaked.

I go into one shop and fit into a size smaller than previous. I go into another and that size is slightly too big but two sizes is slightly small. I have recently purchased a skirt suit two sizes smaller because it fit well enough and I’m only going to get smaller. Again, all of this is fantastic as a big picture but as it gets warmer I will find less and less in my wardrobe that fits and, therefore, lead to another ‘problem’ of this regime whereby I need to spend money to buy clothes. We’re trying to save for a house you see and while I feel as though I can justify spending money on clothing because I have little that fits me, at the same time I always feel slightly guilty for spending on myself.

So, ladies and gentlemen, we know the upsides of losing weight but we should not forget the downsides. I suppose, though, that they aren’t so much downsides as merely small potholes on the road to a thinner you. Nonetheless they are driving me slightly crazy and I thought I’d share this craziness with you. That is one of the main purposes of this blog: to share my craziness with the general public. Enjoy it readers for I have plenty more to give.

That’s when I saw this headline: “So fat I feared I’d be mistaken for Yank” I immediately began to seethe and foam at the mouth just a little. There was a picture of a lovely blonde lady who, clearly, the article was about having lost loads of weight. The whole reason for this weight loss? So she wouldn’t be mistaken for an obese American while on holiday in Florida.

The first thought that popped into my head was a headline for Americans: “Teeth so bad I could be mistaken for British.” There is a stereotype that Brits have bad teeth and, indeed, many of them do, primarily from the older generations when dental care was not as prevalent. The thing is I’m sure the same went for America in those days. Additionally, I’m sure there are many poorer Americans or those in very rural areas that do not have access to dental care today. The point is, it’s a stereotype and it should not be propagated. Not all Brits have bad teeth; therefore, not all Americans are fat.

Now, there is a large majority of Americans that are obese; but so are a growing number of British men and women. I used to say there didn’t seem to be as many fat people here in the UK, or at least in London. I did used to visit the US and go ‘wow look at those elephants.’ Now, I can go to my local Asda (aka Wal-Mart) or even just up to Wimbledon town centre and say the same thing. If you look at the picture of this girl in the link above you will see that, yes, she was overweight but she was by no means as obese as some people I’ve seen both in America and here in the UK. To say that she would be mistaken for an American is downright inflammatory. And who cares if you’re mistaken for an American? I get mistaken for Canadian and even, occasionally (don’t ask me how), for an Australian. Just being fat does NOT make you American any more than having bad teeth makes you British. I’m glad she sorted herself out but that comment just burns my biscuits.

So let’s see,

• I celebrated my 28th birthday (scary) and helped my husband celebrate his 29th.
• I’ve been eating far too much.
• One of my friends had a baby named Duncan. He’s got his own blog called A Wee Walton. If you enjoy oooh-ing and awww-ing at babies, that’s the place to go.  He is pretty darn cute.
• My friends Dave and Mendy are on their way back after a year travelling the world. I can’t wait.
• Hubby and I are desperate to buy (or as a last resort rent) a house. It’s tough for so many reasons, the economy being just one of them.
• Wales were doing well in the Six Nations and then went and lost to France. Hopes are still alive that we will win the tournament but, unfortunately, not with a Grand Slam where we beat everyone.
• I’ve started running again as the weather has gotten slightly warmer. Except now I have almost constant heel pain that one of the completely useless doctors at my local surgery didn’t do a damn thing about. I’m hoping to enter a charity 5k this summer. Probably a breast cancer one in honour of my mom’s friend Debbie.

Honestly, I think that’s all. Oh wait, that’s right, we got hit by a big red London bus on my birthday! We decided to drive to the Big Easy restaurant in Chelsea rather than taking the Tube. We pulled well up into a very busy intersection only a mile or so from the restaurant and a bus went to make a right-hand (remember they drive on the left here) turn and BLAM smacked/rubbed right into the back of us. The whole car actually went up a bit as he scraped the back of us. The damage sounded and felt a lot worse than it ended up being once we were able to get out. We still made our dinner reservation and insurance will be fixing the damage. But it makes an interesting story, doesn’t it? Oh well, back to the daily grind now.

I had their Jonah crab claws to start while my husband had the fried jumbo shrimp. Rather than repeating myself throughout this, suffice to say, each course was phenomenal. For main I had their lobster and steak combo while my husband had their 28oz thick cut steak. Both of our steaks were cooked to perfection. They know what medium should be. Finally, for dessert I had their strawberry waffle while hubby had their homemade pecan pie. Their dessert menu is separate here. I think, to an extent, the dessert was the best course. The waffle was so crispy, the strawberries freshly cut while Tim’s pecan pie was better than any he or I had ever tasted. Every bite of everything was amazing. From the fresh crab claws and juicy jumbo shrimp to the perfectly-cooked moist steak and beautifully boiled lobster finishing with the aforementioned decadent desserts. I might also add that their cocktail selection, of which I had three fantastic margaritas while Tim had two lovely Long Island Ice Teas, was also exquisite. We left full to the brim with some of the best food we’ve had in a while.

While anyone visiting London should try the traditional British dishes of fish and chips, Shepherd’s and/or Cottage pie and Sunday Roast Dinner as well as a visit to a traditional Indian curry house, if you have the time I wouldn’t discourage anyone from visiting this restaurant. You may be able to find similar food in America, especially on the east coast, but good food no matter where it’s found is worth sampling.