Meeting point

I enjoy a good class or a meeting, nothing like a bit of structure on an hour. I do a yoga class and a dancing class and until recently I used to go to a Weight Watchers meeting.

I have been Weight Watching for some time. It has brought me to the conclusion that my body is infused with lead and it simply can't be removed. Attempts to remove it only cause it to multiply. There are a number of Weight Watchers meetings going on in my area, so I tend to go to which ever one suits me that particular week.

The week in question here, I was to attend a venue I had not been to before. I got the information from the website and duly headed along to the community centre at the given time. When I arrived at the centre I simply said to the lady at the front desk that I was here for the meeting and she pointed me up the stairs.

Generally at the meetings there is a pay desk where you sort of sign in and pay, then you can queue up for your weigh in with the class leader. I noticed though at this meeting there was no pay desk, maybe you pay at the end? Also there was a good male to female ratio, very rare for a WW meeting. The leader spotted me looking a bit lost and kindly came straight over.

Leader: Hello, welcome to the meeting
Sasha: Hi, yeah its my first time at this meeting
Leader: Well done for coming, how was your week?
(Sasha at this point has noticed there is no WW advertising in the room, there generally is and why isn't anybody clutching their little WW books?)
Sasha: Oh I was a bit bold this week, lots of parties, but I kept track of all the bits and pieces, I stayed away from the chocy!
Leader: I think you are looking for Weight Watchers on the floor above. This is an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
Sasha: It was nice to meet you, bye.

I found the embarrassment very heavy, it actually added an additional 2 pounds that week...

Needs not wants

There's a lovely holiday feel in the air today. I have made some delightful Easter plans, which see me heading westward. My main mission is to get my hands on a Lindt Bunny. A need, not a want. This bunny is perfect, even down to his high fashion, oversize bell, I want to be in his gang.



I'm also embarking on some romance with the boy. We are going to a posh hotel which promises a wonderful breakfast. As breakfast is my favorite meal, I am pretty excited. This is what I need and want for my holiday breakfast. Its a delicious chocolate biscuit cake that I made in a heart shape, then decorated with mini Smarties. It was some feat, I was so proud of myself.

I look forward to reporting on my adventures!

Sneaky Sneaky

I think I am now finally old enough to have my own proper pet. I would really like a cat. I have been observing friends and family with their four legged friends and feel I would adapt easily into the role of cat owner, hi I'm Sasha, yeah that's right, I own a cat.

The first stumbling block I hit was a clause in our lease stating no pets. I have decided I can work around this one. We already have fish, the landlady seems fine with them, so a cat shouldn't be too far a leap.

The next stumbling block is the live-in love of my life. He has a really appalling cat allergy. Not just your usual streaming eye sort of thing, but full on can't breathe allergy. This is going to be trickier than I had initially thought...

I do play a little game with myself when bored at my desk, imagining that I have a really large Persian cat sitting on my knee and I have to work around him. Its a charm of a sport, makes any dull Tuesday fly by. So I applied the same principles to the apartment cat. I would imagine I had a cat and see how that went.

Hello Sneaky. Sneaky is now my imaginary cat, he officially lives up the chimney and sneaks out, hiding from the allergy, so we can all live harmoniously. Its going down an absolute storm! We love Sneaky! (I love having a third party to blame for stuff, Sneaky is a demon for not putting my clothes away.)

It was all going so well. Until yesterday. Fortunately Wonder Boy had vanished for the weekend and it was just Sneaky and I holding the fort. I had the patio doors open to air the place a little, I was so smug and in a complete Cath Kidston fantasy with this small practicality. The next thing I know, Sneaky has managed to come to life and is sitting on my bed! I was shellshocked. He didn't answer to the name Sneaky, we could work around this, but how had this happened! He was so handsome, big furry black coat, with a grey bib, quite debonair.

The next clue that something wasn't quite right came in the form of a smell. Sneaky showers daily, I am often delayed getting out of bed because Sneaky has gone ahead of me into the shower, so this smell was hard to explain. I began to think I had an imposter on my hands. The only thing I could do was to ask him to leave. Which he did.

He left me with quite the calling card though, a fur encrusted bed. I mustered all my Cath Kidston inspired strength and put the bed linen on the hottest wash possible. Then I rang my Mum. She sensibly enquired about where the cat had been sitting, naturally he was on Wonder Boy's side and had he been on the sheet or the duvet mainly? He was a sheet man it turned out. Mother's solution? Ditch the sheet, get a new one in a nice bright spring colour, and stop inviting lethal allergens into your home!

Sneaky and I are off to make some fluffed Soya milk now, he's been helping me type.

Taking a closer look

I'm of quite an inquisitive nature and love a little bit of private investigation. I am so interested in other people. I can often be found just randomly staring at strangers, completely consumed by their activities. Like, why is that man buying 14 bananas? Does he have a potassium deficiency? That must be it, I better go and casually examine the contents of his trolley now.

The weekend saw a delightful Friday night visit to my favorite nail bar, where aside from the joy of preening, i also get to effortlessly eavesdrop onto the conversations of neighbours in grooming. I learned of lip filling injections, favorite mascaras, misbehaving absent fathers and dogs being taken to a photography studio. Absolute jackpot for someone like myself. I like to call it Safari.
Safari because you are surveying all around you and studying any item of person who may be of interest to you. If you ever have the opportunity to sit next to me on a plane, you too will be submerged in the joy of safari.
I also visited my parent's cottage in the West of Ireland. They have owned the cottage since October, so we are relatively new to the area. It was such a beautiful weekend, my Mum and I had lots of opportunities to explore the local area. We walked a gorgeous beach and climbed some rocks at the end, only to be brought to a smaller sandy enclave, with a very unusual stone formation. It was very well built and looked like it had been there for hundreds of years. When we went around the other side of the rocks, we saw that the sun fell very precisely on top of it. What could it be for?

The following day we had some more interesting finds, including the remains of a very quiet sandy harbour. Could it have been a ladies bathing area? Perhaps used for smuggling? Investigations are underway! Our walk continued past these handsome donkeys who were waiting for their Sunday dinner and down to a small but busy harbour.
Instead of the harbour being full of boats, it was populated by large bales of seaweed tightly bound together and very securely moored in a web like structure. We couldn't figure out what they were for. Google has kindly told me they are for a local seaweed factory, but they really were something else.

The usual safari routes were rather limited for me, other than a helpful, handsome service station attendant, there really were no other items of interest to be observed.

More on motoring

It may seem as though I have become a little bit obsessed with motoring or more specifically the field of motoring disasters. The tale I am to tell is a true story, it has it all:

• snow
• rescues
• a cat
• handsome boys
• a super Granny.

Wouldn't it be great if your petrol gauge never moved, you always had enough fuel to go from A to B, never having to make an annoying stop off inevitably when you are running late or during a surprise electrical storm? This has always been my dream anyway. One day, when not doing a good job of separating dreams from reality, my petrol gauge began to work against me. I reckoned I definitely had enough to get home and because it was snowing, there was no way I could possibly run out. I was thinking this as I cruised into the hard shoulder after my engine had given its final cough.

I waited for a few minutes thinking about what I could do to rectify the situation, or in reality what was keeping my knight in shining armor? I was on a busy stretch of road and not too far from a petrol station. I was just summoning the courage to make the brave trek when a crane pulled in ahead of me. I saw a guy hopping out of the passenger side and I presumed he was being dropped off. I was a little surprised when he approached me.

"Hello, are you broken down? Can I help you? I can tow you if needs be?"

In my head: Yes, I need your help. Are you a) a serial killer b) a crane driving maniac or c) a helpful soul? I risked C.

I explained my predicament and was offered a lift to the petrol station. In case you didn't know this, you access the drivers cab of a crane via the passenger side. This was very exciting for me. The cab is a little more plush than one would expect, a flask holder and fancy radio were two luxuries of note. My valiant hero dropped me off to the petrol station and then sadly went on about his business. I will save you the description of trudging back to the car in the snow, wearing cream jeans, high heels and carrying a petrol can.

Eventually I got the petrol into the car and it started. Happy days! I zoomed on home, the car and I reeking of fuel. I had read somewhere if you leave the windows open on a frosty night, it will get any smell out of a car. So I did this, feeling only a little smug. What a tale I had to tell, no one ever gets rescued by a crane!

The next day I was to bring my Granny shopping. I spruced myself up, as one does for a Granny inspection and prepared for our jaunt. I arrived at the car and went to open the door. Only to find someone already occupying the driver's seat. A tom cat. It was one thing to have a car slightly smelling of petrol, but believe you me, its a very different story when you meet the olfactory cocktail that is tom cat plus petrol. I couldn't leave my Granny in the lurch, I would have to drive the car.

I drove to Granny's with the windows down and a scarf over my face. Granny was a very heavy smoker, unless I had sat the tom cat on her lap she would not have noticed the smell. I suggested that Granny light up as soon as she got in, she was delighted with this. As we drove, we caught up on news, all the usual stuff, all the time me encouraging the smoking, anything was better than the current pungency. I kept the windows down, I thought I was onto a winner.

That particular day happened to be the semi-finals of the All Ireland Rugby Schools cup. I had not anticipated that the roads would be heaving with boys of all ages, over excited and geared up to cheer at any sight they may see...

As we drove, handsome boys shrieked through our open windows, Granny delighted cheering back, perhaps offering a few cigarettes on the side. This was until we stopped at traffic lights beside a particularly enthused car of gents who happened to be a little downwind from us. Their enthusiasm suddenly dimmed, one boy became green. The lights then changed. As we drove away I could see the boys were not following and their hazard lights were now on, I could just about make out two of the occupants who had been seated next to us leaving the vehicle and appearing to be violently sick.

Granny and I arrived at the supermarket and as always, I let her out at the main door and I went to park. I heartlessly drove towards the overpriced car valeting space, greeted with enthusiasm I asked for the full works, the employee seeing dollar signs. Walking away, I heard him radioing his head office for some back up...

So my friends, the next time you're running a little low, think twice before entering the red zone!

Be yourself, however unexpected the circumstances may be.

I generally float about in a cocoon of wonderfulness. Between nail appointments, a bit of work, some light household duties and heavy socializing, I really do lead a lovely existence. That was until our old friend Crash, boom, bang!

Who would have thought so much of my identity was attached to my car? I feel so lost without my mobile fashion accessory! How should one compensate? I had been thinking of perming my hair, but thanks to some advise from some bonny haired ladies, I have laid that idea to rest. I'm hoping perhaps to purchase a bright pink iPod Nano, this might help.

Once the retail therapy had successfully begun, I thought it would have been a bad idea to stop it. A bit like not finishing a prescribed course of medication. I shopped online for a short time and decided I wanted a cat. Sadly the boyfriend is allergic to cats, but I found a special breed called Ragdolls who apparently are allergy proof. I was so delighted. Glee filled I mentioned this to a group of friends. One person, perhaps no longer my friend, then told how these felines are not allergy proof and perhaps their appeal had been their affectionate nature? I am refusing to comment at this point.

In other unexpected circumstances, Crash, Boom, Bang! broke my eye. I have to have an eye operation on Monday as a result. I hate anything eye related. I don't even wear eyeliner, I am that eye phobic. Hopefully the results will give a fixed eye and a good blog post! x

No holes barred.

The joys of a birthday party. Cake, friends, delicious drinks and balloons. I sometimes find that one's own birthday party can be a little stressful, guest lists, food, will people come? Is everyone having a good time? So I think its important to have the best time possible when attending someone else's birthday. This works well in two ways: 1. The host sees that you are having a swell old time of it, therefore putting them at ease, one less guest to worry about. 2.You are having a swell old time of it.

The location of the party is a prime consideration.

• Will the room work?
  
• Is there enough space?
  
• Is there too much space?
  
• Where will I set up the drinks?
  
• Where will I put the coats?

If you find it impossible to answer these questions, it might be best to have it in a venue, like a function room of a pub. This my friends, is where my cautionary tale begins.
A good friend of mine was hosting their 30th birthday party in the function room of a popular Dublin pub. The area was nicely decorated with balloons and banners and there had been a satisfactory, if not a little dry, birthday cake. Towards the end of the evening I had taken up the traditional party pursuit of rubbing a balloon in ones hair and using the static charge to stick it to various objects and people about the room.
When closing time came, a bouncer came up to the area and went around each table and informing them individually that it was closing time. On his third consecutive round of all 12 remaining guests, I took the opportunity to stick the statically charged balloon to his bum. Somewhat like a bunnies tail.
The bouncer bobbed off with his pink tail, much to our amusement and continued re-informing us of closing time. Unfortunately for me, another bouncer had been monitoring the event closely and had spotted the arrival of the bunnies tail. He immediately swooped in and dramatically relieved his colleague of his new tail. Their glare then fell on me. They possessed the pent up fury of 12 hungry wolves. I was 'accompanied' down the stairs and placed in the doorway to await the manager of the establishment. When he appeared, he asked me my version of events. I recounted the incident in as light a tone as possible and fortunately the manager seemed to find it rather amusing. Sadly, though the bouncer did not. The result was a life long ban from the establishment. This was nearly 3 years ago and the door staff still have not changed. I remain barred.
So what to do if you get the urge to pin the tail on the bouncer? My advice, resist!