Week from hell for Larysa

I have to hand it to Larysa, she's a trooper.

We've been intensely preparing for her entrance exams for the last 3 months, in fact it's been the only thing consuming my time this fall. When I wasn't helping Larysa by giving her practice exams, I was worrying about silently or talking to my friends about as nauseum. I've been quite boring lately.

Last week, she had three exams to sit, two of them half-days, and one a full day of exams. After all of them, she seemed to come out all bouncy and energized. I'm not sure how to react, since when we went through this with Stefanie, her post-exam behavior was quite the opposite: near tears, exhausted and not happy.

Is it possible Larysa is one of these lunatic children who thrive on tests? Or is she just plain loony?

Unfortunately, we won't find out until March 1st, when the results are posted and the schools are offered.

Tower of London - Ceremony of the Keys

Completely forgot to mention our evening tour of the Tower of London. I guess we've been living here so long, that I forget when we do the touristy stuff.
Anway, we were booked to see the Ceremony of the Keys, which is a ritualized way to close up the joint for the night. Aah, but what would the Tower be without its historical rituals? First we had a tour of the Tower by one of the resident Yoeman warders. There are about 150 (yeomen & their families) living inside the tower walls and get locked in every night. That is why they have their own doctor and pub and chaplain onsite. Although what would you do if you had a case of the munchies round about midnight?
For Ceremony, The Chief Warder, dressed in a Beefeater costume, marches his way to the front gate from the Byward Tower. After he locks the Traitor’s Gate, he makes his way towards the Bloody Archway tower, where he is stopped by a sentry. As part of its tradition, the sentry and Warder hold an exchange:
Sentry: ‘Halt, Who goes there?’
Warder: ‘The Keys!’
Sentry: ‘Whose keys?’
Warder: ‘Queen Elizabeth’s keys.’
Sentry: ‘Pass Queen Elizabeth’s keys – Alls well!’

After the traditional exchange the Chief Warder lifts his hat and proclaims ‘God preserve Queen Elizabeth.’ The clock chimes for 10 o’clock as the other Queen’s guards raise their bonnets and say ‘Amen.’ The entire process takes no more than 7 minutes, but has been going on for the last 700 years. Even during World War II, when German bombs rained down on London, the ceremony still took place with the exception of a direct hit, which delayed the ceremony by one-half hour.
I had heard that if you are really nice to your yeoman guide, he might invite you back to their pub, but unfortunately we had no luck regardless of how many hints we dropped! We ended our evening in a local pub with Zim and Michelle and got home by 11:30 pm.

Honk if you're Indian

The mode of traffic in Mumbai was fabulous to behold...no lanes painted and cars battling with trucks and motorcyclists to squeeze into every available inch of space on the road. And all this accompanied by the constant beeping of horns.
Honking seemed to be just another method of speaking with other people in India. Whole conversations seemed to be occurring from the comfort of your own vehicle in a language only understandable to you.

HONK! "Hey get out of my way!"
HONK! "I was here first!"
HONK! "I'm right beside you, watch out."
HONK! "Would you like to go for a curry later?"

It was all quite amusing, except for Orest who claims that these conversations were going on until 4 am out in front of our hotel and easily heard from our bed, where he lay tossing and turning.

The other interesting thing that happened is a narrow brush with fame. Unbeknownst to us, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie arrived in Mumbai at the same time as us (but they were in a private helicopter) and proceeded to stay at the same hotel as us as well (but they were in the Palace part of the hotel, we were in the Tower). That evening we were booked to eat at Indigo, but cancelled at the last minute. Good thing too, Brangelina ended up there instead. (Do you think they took our reservation?)
All weekend long, they seemed to follow us around. How annoying! If they'd just stop stalking us and come out in the open, I would have graced them with an autograph!

More about Mumbai

So since the next day of our stay in Mumbai was Sunday, Orest and I booked a tour guide to take us around the sites of the city. I had read that Mumbai perhaps did not have an abundance of historical sights, but we managed to fill up 5 hours of time seeing the following

1. Our first stop (we only drove by the Victoria Train Terminal, Marine Drive and Chowpatty beach) was a Jain temple up in the Malabar Hills. Our tour guide whisked us through Indian religion fairly quickly, so our understanding of which gods were which was minimal at best. However, it was like entering the local community hall with its vendors in the courtyard selling patties and bread. The rituals involved in worship were very interesting and it was wonderful to be in the centre of it for a few moments.

2. Next were the Hanging Gardens, which were created on top of a reservoir in the Malabar Hills. Although the pruned trees and flowers were pretty, the informative talk from our guide regarding the Parsi (or Zoraostrian) funeral rites was of greater interest. Next to the gardens was the Doonderwadi complex where they would take their dead to one of the Towers of Silence (an open-aired tower) where the vultures were meant to devour the flesh and the sun meant to dry and decompose the rest of the body. (They did this because burying would defile Mother Earth and creamtion would desecrate the fire - all natural elements being sacred.) We took a photo from the hilltop, but it was rather hazy so not much of Marine Drive is visible.

3. The Mahatma Ghandi Museum was next, and here we followed the displays and learned more about the man who spent most of his life fighting for (and winning) the rights of all Indians. Here's a photo looking up at the balcony where he was arrested for his speech incurring civil disobedience.

4. Our last stop was the Prince of Wales Museum where we quickly went through the Indian portion of the displays and spent the rest of the time in the gift shop purchasing lovely prints and cards for literally pennies. It certainly beats the prices at the British Museum's gift shop!

A quick bit of shopping followed and then a lovely evening meal at what seems to be the only funky restaurant outside the hotel; Indigo. Orest and I risked dsysentery by ordering the king prawn starter, but it was too tasty to pass up!

Introduction to the Third World

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I was in Bombay India (Or Mumbai, as it is now known) over the weekend. "What kind of idiot flies 9 hours to see a country for only 3 days?" you might ask. 'Tis I, the non-eco-friendly gal!
What an experience it was too...well worth the carbon emissions.
When Orest told me 6 weeks ago that he was going there on a business conference, I knew I had to take my chance and start tagging along to see the world. (I'd passed up several other fine opportunities that I'm kicking myself over now.)
With my shopping excursions laid out for me by my trustworthy advisor Lisa (she'd been there before) and other sound advice, I was still somewhat overwhelmed when we landed in this unreal cacophony of sights and smells.
The hour drive to our hotel gave us plenty of opportunities to see poverty at its lowest level, filth at its most exposed and rudimentary building materials (bamboo support structures and burlap used to keep cement wet) like they used 1000 years ago.
We were staying at the Taj Palace and Tower Hotel - the best Mumbai has to offer(see this link to view what I was lead to expect - http://www.tajhotels.com/Palace/THE%20TAJ%20MAHAL%20PALACE%20&%20TOWER,MUMBAI/Pdf/The-Taj-Mahal-Palace-&-Tower-Mumbai.pdf ), but even that was a letdown on first glance. The lobby, with its low ceiling and somewhat outdated style, reminded me of some of the communist attempt at interior decoration in some of the Warsaw hotels. Our room had a permanent musty smell to it that could only be eradicated by blowing up the entire 30-year old tower and starting over again.
It took the rest of the afternoon sitting by the pool to regain my confidence that I had not made a big mistake in coming to India. Looking back, I realize now that I had passed my comfort level - or even more sad - my comfort level has become narrower from my days of backpacking and youth hostels.
And confidence was definitely needed when Orest and I ventured out in the early evening to find a tailor 7 blocks from the hotel. The moment we stepped outside the hotel, we were targeted by beggars- women carrying babies, little barefoot children, crippled men on carts. At first, I was very nervous, having lived with the Gypsy beggars of Eastern Europe who would rob you blind if you let them. But I have to admit that these were the most polite beggars I'd ever encountered. After a quick no to their request for money, they would thank you and excuse themselves for bothering you. The sidewalk sellers were a little bit more aggressive, but having Orest around was an obstacle many of them couldn't surmount.
The other thing I noticed was the amount of stray dogs laying about in the street. And these weren't the feral strays that you'd encounter in Romania or Ukraina, where the threat of attack was always a possibility. These ones all seemed to be lethargically sprawled all over the sidewalk, with nary a care for the multitudes of people stepping over or around them. I almost felt like stepping on them to see if they would react - but luckily I'm not 6 years old anymore...

More to come in the next blog.

Career opportunities

I was putting Adriana to bed the other night and she announced that when she grows up, she wants to be a princess or a teacher.
I gently tried to break it to her: "Well, since you weren't born a princess, you'll have to marry a prince to become one."

She thought about it for only a moment and said:

"Ok, I'll just be a teacher." (I can't figure out what was less appealing; the marrying bit or the prince bit.)

Just as I was shutting the door to her room, I heard her add:

"Or a Dalmation..."

Aaaahhh, the dreams of childhood...too precious to burst their bubble.

Can I afford to be stupid?

In the last 4 days, I have lost 60 pounds (and I mean currency, not weight - I wish!) in total - and I can put it all down to my own stupidity. The first 40 pounds were lost in the form of a parking ticket. I wish I could say that the traffic control person was being an absolute dick, but the real reason was: just as I was getting out of the car, my mobile rang and I forgot that I needed to purchase a parking sticker for my car. Complete moron can't do two things at once!

The second happened so quickly I still have no ideahow. I'd made some DVD copies for a Mum at school and she handed me the 20 pound note just as I was waving off Adriana and Larysa to school. Somehow between school and my car I realized I was no longer in posession of said note!

The question is: can I afford this? I thought back to the days when Orest and I were first married and still using budgets (well actually Orest did the budgets - he just told me how much I could spend per week) 60 pounds would have been my entire week's supply. It probably doesn't help that I still convert to Canadian dollars every time I shell out for something over here - that's over 120 bucks!!

I'm very lucky that we aren't scrimping and saving as we were 20 years ago, cuz I'm getting stupider every day. (20 years from now I'll probably be losing 120 pounds every day because I can't keep my mind on the moolah.)

I did however feel obligated to try and retrieve at least the 20 I lost at the school by asking the school secretary to post something in the school newsletter to see if anyone would come forward and return it. Call it my social experiment of the month.

Burn Guy, burn!

Guy Fawkes night....what an interesting celebration. Bonfires with an effigy atop and fireworks to symbolize the gunpowder that could have lit up the Parliament if not stopped. A classic struggle between the Catholics and newly-formed Anglicans all wrapped up in tidy package of fun for all ages.
We had heard that in Chiddingfold, Surrey they have quite the massive parade, fair and bonfire, so we decided to organize and outing there in conjunction with the Ukrainian Scouts. We first arrived at the old folks home to prepare a bit of games and snacks for the kids and then took a walk down to the village once it got dark.
We arrived just in time to watch the procession of torch bearers (about 400 of them) walking down from the local St Mary's school. They all had to gather around the bonfire, which was stacked up in a teepee shape at least 30 feet high, with the hapless effigy of Guy tied to the top. Then the countdown began and they threw their torches into the collected wood in waves. I was amazed that no one was injured with the massive amounts of torches being chucked, but obviously these were experienced fire-throwers.
As the fire was burning the children got a little bored after the flames had completely consumed Guy, so we took a walk around the green and found that they had many stalls selling food as well as a small fair with rides for smaller children. The girls were most interested in the stall selling all things glowing, and of course we had to buy them each a set of fluffy bunny ears that light up. (what rabbits have to do with Bonfire night is anybody's guess...)
An hour later, they began the fireworks display. With the requisite oohs and aahs, we watched while Jessie cowered at our feet from the noise. After a very good lightshow, we trudged back up the hill where we had parked at the old folks home, had some hot chocolate and biscuits and then home. When we drove by the bonfire, it was still burning brightly, and it's been said that it usually stays lit til the following morning. Amazing!

(The photo above is Adia sitting on the shoulders of our friend Stepan - who did a good job of shouldering others in our party as well.)

Trying to keep Halloween alive!

It's been really weird trying to celebrate Halloween here in England. Over the past four years, the Brits have come along a bit in terms of understanding what it's all about (i.e. there's been a lot more to buy at the local shops), but there's still a lot of confusion around here over what and what not constitutes an All Hallows Eve fun night. So here are some basic tips to help you through the season:

1. You don't have to wear a scary costume! The little ones are already frightened enough as it is, without dressing them up as little Draculas or Elphabas. See my kids: I had SpongeBob, a dalmation and a nerdy geek this year (no, the little green man is not Orest). I still remember Larysa's first year at the school's Halloween disco, dressed as a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, and having some kid come up to her and say: "I'm not afraid of you, you're not scary!" Yeah, duh! Missing the point.

2. Our neighbours around the corner came trick or treating and told me to send my kids around to them when they returned from their jaunts, only to find their house looking dark and with no pumpkin lit up out in front. We then realized that a lot of people here aren't up on pumpkin etiquette and the girls have missed out on a lot of candy over the years!

3. What is the big deal with jack o' lanterns anyway? I think a lot of people still have a fear of sticking their hands inside of juicy old gourd and ripping out the guts to then carve out a design on the outside. I still remember our first year here, trying to get a jack o' lantern contest going at the school, getting numerous phone calls from people who had never touched a pumpkin in their lives. I can't tell you how many times I had to explain the rudiments of pumpkin carving.

4. The amount of backlash I hear over here that this is an "American holiday, and why do they have to supply these little brats with a year's supply of candy anyway?" is quite astounding. Get a grip Gramps, this is not an American invasion of commercial crassness, it's just an opportunity for the kids to dress up and get a toothache all in one night. Besides, all that scary dressing up will come in handy for those vicar and tart parties of the future, won't it?

Still sparking

14 days on the Spark diet website and I've lost 5 pounds so far.

I can't really tell you why it works, but I guess the calorie-counting (and I am not exact by any stretch of the imagination) helps see how big a portion you can eat without going over your maximum every day.

The fitness page also helps. Once I figured out how many miles per minute I was walking it was really easy to convert that to calories burned. Because I don't have a pedometer, it was through an intricate calculation off Google Earth and using the beats per minute on the ipod.

I've also been drinking a lot more water than I'm used to, which has done a number on my skin - it feels like the water is pushing out all the imputirities out through my face and it's breaking out all over. But if it's getting the results I want, I can live with a few spots on my face.

Hair Follies

A friend from Adriana's class at school was having her 40th birthday on Saturday, and the invite said "Think Audrey Hepburn" for how to dress for it. After hearing many of my other friends saying they were going to have their hair done up for it, I thought I could try the same.

It wasn't until they saw how short my hair was at the salon that they began to express doubt as to whether putting it up was even a remote option. Luckily, I had a girl who was game for it, and said my hair was a challenge to overcome. (I felt like the Himilayas at that point.) Several pins (48 various hairpins) ranging in size and ouch factor later, my hair was glued into place, so that not even the damp British weather was going to make it fall down.

So the party was great fun; everyone agreed that I clean up nice, and thank god nobody had any magnets on them, cuz I would have gotten stuck to them head first!

I'm sparking!

Or maybe barking?

Funny name for a website, but check out www.sparkpeople.com It's a free diet site that allows you to load in your data and help you determine an appropriate weight loss plan which includes nutritional guidance and fitness routines.

(A note of warning to my British friends - this is an American site, so there are lots of meal plans based around stuff that's popular in the U.S. For example, I had to load all the dietary info in myself for Yakult because they've never heard of it there.)

So this is it, I've finally decided that something's got to budge (not bulge) and I've been on it 3 days. My goal is to lose (not love - which I typed out in error - Freudian slip) 30 pounds before my birthday in January. Right now it's been great and I've lost 2.5 pounds already, but Christmas is just around the corner with its endless partying and eating and noshing and nibbling, and so on.
Lord, it doesn't bear thinking about! Is there any way to skip the holiday season altogether?

Larysa's birthday

For Larysa's 11th birthday, I wasn't sure quite what to do with her. She wanted the Rainforest Cafe - too expensive, then she wanted horseback riding - also too expensive. She'd already been to the bowling alley millions of times for other birthdays, so that was out.
As I trolled the internet for ideas, I came across a sound studio that hosts birthday party where you go in and record a song (everyone gets a copy of the CD) and then you do some dance moves too that gets recorded on a DVD for you as well. Cool! Larysa has always been a pop star diva in the making, so I thought it would be kinda neat to get it on a CD for her.
Once Larysa had settled on her guestlist - it was really important that she have a good mix of kids, I made these cool invites to look like CDs (if I had an extra few hours to spend I would have laminated them too) and then put them in CD cases for Larysa to give out to the invitees.

Well the day came and I drove up the 7 lucky children to the Sound Studio where they spent the first hour recording the song "Reach" by S Club 7. (Larysa had invited to boys, MacKenzie and Luke, it this seemed like the most appropriate song for both sexes to sing. Somehow I couldn't see the boys wanting to sing Avril Lavigne or Pink.)

Everything was going well until everyone piled out of the recording room and I noticed how ill Larysa looked. I guess the heat and lack of something to drink had dehydrated her to the point that she could barely stand up. But in true Ethel Merman-The-show-must-go-on style, she was able to come round and finish the dance moves for the DVD. Listlessly, but she did it. What a trooper!

So right now, it's 1:40 am, and the girls who stayed behind for the sleepover are obviously not sleeping. So it's up to me to keep at them until they finally drop off.

Nighty-night!

Knife throwing class

Ok, not throwing...But it was still a knife class.
My friend Mary invited a few of us to Divertimenti, which is this lovely cooking school in Marylebone High Street. You had to walk through their kitchen shop to get to where they were doing the class, and I was itching to go shopping. It's one of those types of shops where you can buy mango slicers or something equally as useless, but it's supposed to make life sooooo much easier. I can't resist it somehow - it's having grown up on Ronco commercials on tv. Anything that slices or dices holds a certain fascination for me.

That's probably why I signed up for this course. I've always had the feeling that I've never really understood how to really use a knife properly - that's why I have these cuts all over my hands. Well, we spent 2 hours chopping, mincing, julienning and (not sure if I have this one correctly...) chiffonading, which I think means shredding. (But with a knife of course - which is doubly strange!) In fact, we spent so much time in the preparation, I almost didn't have time to eat the products of your time-consuming work.
I was enticed, however, to purchase a brand-new (read:expensive) knife - after spending two hours with the Global knife, I fell in love with the feel of it. When I got home, I promptly unwrapped it, used it and sliced my finger in no short order.
So I still don't know what I'm doing, but now I'm doing it with an expensive knife and feeling good about the pain I'm inflicting on myself.

Mooncake Festival in Chinatown

This Sunday we took advantage of having nothing to do in the afternoon to go down to Chinatown and have a family lunch.
Unbeknownst to us, it was the Mooncake Festival time, so when we got to the main drag of Chinatown (the only drag, actually) we were greeted by a parade of dragons and paper lanterns to add to the already colourful atmosphere.
The meal was lovely - finally, some decent Chinese food in London! But Adriana was forced to eat nothing by steamed rice and a sliver of bbq pork, since she wouldn't try or eat anything else.
Although we asked our server what the festival was all about, her limited English made it difficult for her to describe in detail what the festival was all about, so we didn't press her.
I've since looked it up on Wikipedia, which describes the 8th month of the lunar calendar was having the brightest moon, and the Chinese having an autumnal festival at the same time to celebrate the end of the harvest. The mooncakes refer to an ancient tale of the Chinese's struggle against the Mongols and using mooncakes to communicate an uprising to rebels on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month.
Interesting....even more interesting was the oriental family sitting across from us, a youngish couple with 2 young boys. They ordered things I had never seen in my life before, but bound to be more authentic than the sweet and sour chicken we ordered. I'd always been jealous of these families that can go to restaurants with young children and manage to be so quiet that you forget the children are there - and oriental families are a prime example of this. With my brood the decibel level seems to increase in public places - it's as if they think that the minute we step outside the house, I've gone deaf and need to be shouted at continuously. Anyways, there's a lull in noise at our end of the restaurant, when all of a sudden, the Chinese Mum yells at one of her small sons who's slipped under the table: "SIT ON YOUR CHAIR, NOW!!" I was so shocked, I looked around at my kids to make sure it wasn't one of mine who'd slipped under their table.
But no, it was definitely hers, as she stood to haul him out from the floor and place him squarely on his chair.
Somehow it made me feel a bit better about my children's behavior until:
"Mama, do all China people have lines for eyes?" (Could she have said it any louder?????????)

Keeping up appearances

Still along the same vein with Larysa....

She was sitting in the office chair behind me trying to give me a head massage when she announced in a horrified tone:

"Mum you've got lots of grey hair! When are you going to colour it to match the rest of your head?"

I was a bit disappointed, because, after years of colouring my roots to disguise my greys, I thought it time to abandon all pretenses, and go 'au naturel'. This was not a split-moment decision, but carefully thought-out based on: economics (I'd save myself at least 200 pounds a year), truth (it's time I faced the fact that I'm no spring chicken) and health (all those chemicals must be having some sort of effect on me).

I tried to explain as gently as possible how I was thinking of leaving it as is, but this just induced an even more horrified repsonse:
"Mum! You can't show up in the playground at school looking like my grandmother!!"

My God, she's just added about 20 years to my age and has now put me in that dreaded category of "parents who mortify their children". We're ready for our own Jerry Springer episode, complete with half-dressed young girl and her blousy still-more-undressed Mom duking it out on national tv - expletives bleeped out, of course.

Girl, you'll be a woman soon

Poor Larysa!

At almost 11, she seems to be on the verge of becoming a woman. She's got all the emotional roller coaster feelings associated with budding adolesence, but none of the physical manifestations of it.
Case in point, she managed to work herself into sobbing hysterics in the 7 minute ride to school the other day. Why? Because her face was too fat! She doesn't seem to understand that her face still had the baby fat that would disappear all too soon. She was inconsolable.

I just wish she's get her period, so she'd have an excuse for all this drama!

Walking progress

You're probably all dying to find out how I've been doing with my walking tunes that I told you about on Sept 16th's blog.
Well, the first day, my shins started aching (like the feeling of being on skis for the first day of the season) by Absolutely Everybody and I was more than happy when Gus had his open air cafe open early enough that morning that I was able to use the excuse of making polite conversation with him to have a sit down while he made me a 'happy-cappy'.
A few days in, it was Madonna causing the shooting pains up my shinbones - although I've heard she does that to paraplegics.
I am happy to say that I can now last through Follow the Leader without wanting to karate chop my legs to death. I have had to remove Pump It and Vertigo as I discovered they had completely un-walkable beats. Sorry Black Eyed Peas and U2 - I'll leave you on in the car instead, ok?
I've replaced those two with a few more tunes, so this is what the playlist looks like now:
A Little Less Conversation 3:33 Elvis vs JXL
Love Machine 3:25 Girls Aloud
Aint Got No... I Got Life (REMIX) 3:22 Nina Simone
Please Don't Go (Sunshine Mix) 4:39 K.W.S.
Move This 5:02 Technotronic
Absolutely Everybody 3:43 Vanessa Amorosi
First Time 2:40 Sunblock feat. Robin Beck
24-7 In My 911 3:13 Vengaboys
My time 3:15 Dutch feat. Crystal Waters
Ray Of Light 5:20 Madonna
Cha Cha Slide 3:40 DJ Casper
Follow Da Leader 2:32 Nigel & Marvin
Burning Down The House 3:39 Tom Jones & The Cardigans
The Emperor's New Clothes 5:16 Sinéad O'Connor
All I Wanna Do 4:33 Sheryl Crow

I am a bit ashamed of having something as silly as Vengaboys on there, but hey, whatever gets me moving around the park, covering twice the distance, is fine by me.
I'll let you know how it goes....

Murphy's Law?

'Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.' - Murphy's Law

So here I was again, scrambling to get to school to pick up my girls (and Gwen's daughters) on time. I needed the skates for Adia, tennis rackets for Stefa and Larysa snacks and something to drink, and get Jessie in the car for the short trip to the school.
I was losing time because I couldn't find Adriana's skates, only to find out after a quick call to Orest that he had taken all the skates out to be sharpened. Ok, I can deal with that, as long as Adriana doesn't throw a fit that she has to rent a pair at the rink.
Get into the minivan and as I pull out of the drive, I can feel the tha-whump, tha-whump sound of a flat tire. (Why I didn't notice the car leaning over to the front left side, I have no idea.)
So here I go, taking everything (dog included) and moving to the Jeep, hoping that I won't get stopped by the police for having an illegal amount of children in the car.

So was it Murphy's Law or...some more sinister power at work. After all, who took all the ice skates to be sharpened? And who created the bump in the tire when misjudging the width between the other car and the island on the other side of the road on the way to church one Sunday?

Funny how you can be married to a guy for almost 20 years without realizing he's been creating "behind-the-scenes" sabotage, only for it to explode on you at the most inopportune moment.

Adia's gonna be a banker & in my face

The girls have started school and their after-school activities as well. Which leads me to a cute little story of Adriana's lack of trust (probably brought on by her sisters making up stuff to try and get her to do want they want her to do!). I sent Adriana to the tennis court yesterday with a 20 pound note for her to pass along to the coach for Stefa and Larysa's lessons. I told her that she was to bring some change back, as it would on be 15 pounds. Apparently after being handed the 5 pound note for change, she immediately lifted it towards the sky as if she were verifying that it had the appropriate watermark and it wasn't fake. Luckily Kim saw the funny side of this and didn't assume that I didn't trust her not to pass on conterfeit money through my kid.

I had the chance to go to the Sanctuary in Covent Garden the other day with the Australian Lisas x2. (They had birthday vouchers, but I didn't want to feel left out, so I came along too.)After every thing I had heard and the glossy brochure with the picture here, I was expecting to spend a relaxing couple of hours with me mates. But I'll you what I was not expecting: the lady doing my facial to give me the third degree on my beauty regimen.

"Do you cleanse, tone and moisterize twice a day?"
"Uhhh, no." (What I really wanted to say was "I can barely haul my ass out of bed in the mornings, and at night the last thing on my mind would be to have my face feel like a baby's bum!)
"Do you use a masque or exfoliate weekly?"
Same response again...This time I really wanted to say: "Exfoliate my %^&^#%!!"
"Do you have a facial regularly"
At this point I wanted to deck her, but thought that if I did, she might use cement instead of a scrub and then cazy-glue my eyes shut, so again:
"Uhhh, no."

The way she tsk'ed me let me know that I had failed the minimum requirements of being remotely human, but I let her have her way with me and came out looking and feeling years younger. So who am I to complain?