Granada, Espagne

TOH, his parents and I spent a fab weekend in Granada - no, not the Coronation St tour but the hill-top town in southern Spain (sorry for missing your birthday, Jo. Was it a good one?).

The Ryan Air flight left from from Stansted at the crack of dawn - I swear the seats are getting smaller and smaller on those planes. And how their waitresses can feel any pride in their jobs, I don't know - every five minutes they come round and try to sell you crap you don't want such as lottery tickets, phone cards, plastic rubbish and curly sandwiches.

We nearly missed the plane as the TV screens in the airport were telling us to 'wait in lounge' but the tannoy was calling our names for final boarding! We weren't the only one making a mad dash to the gate, where we got abused by a bloke in a lumious yellow jacket, who threatened to not let us on if we protested that the instructions given were wrong.

Anyway, the horrible flight aside, we arrived in Granada safely and took a cab to the hotel. It was situated right next to the Alhambra palace, which was handy. But to get in we had to book our tickets in advance by buying them from a bank in town.

We had missed the allocated slots for the day so bought them for the following day. We than wandered around the hillside opposite the palace, which was all cobbly streets and beautiful old buildings.

The two hills were separated by a valley and a river, which we called Cat Valley because there were several tribes of feral cats, all different colours, laying about licking their bums, snoozing in the sun or sizing each other up for a ruck.

The Islamic-influenced architecture and reconquista Christian churches made for a very interesting tour. One placa by a church gave unparalled views of the palace across the valley. The guide book warned us to be wary of people performing 'distracting flamenco' while their cohorts picked our pockets but sadly we didn't see any. Maybe it was not the season for such artistic diversionary tactics!

For lunch we had the obligatory tapas and in the evening, a paella, por favor.

I was surprised to find that I could get by in Spanish again, having only ever learned it from a tape which I played in my car two years ago prior to the Great Cuba Trip, made with Ms Fawcett MBE.

The following day, we were up and at Alahambra at 8.45am before the coaches arrived. What a magnificent place. We were totally blown away by the beauty of the place. I developed a fascination for the tessalating patterns of tiles used to decorate the place.

I am not sure if it is true but I was once told that Islamic art is all about geometric patterns and beautiful calligraphy because it is forbidden to make images of men and animals ... having said that, one of the great treasures there is a lion fountain made of 12 lion statues holding up a big bowl of water.

But it is so amazing there. You can really imagine the emirs and their court living a very civilised Medieval life surrounded by tinkling fountains, music, art, learning, beautiful fabrics, big cushions, harems of beautiful women and fine dining.
Probably not quite so civilised for all the servants and ordinary people!

I like people who say yes

The ball is really rolling on this wedding malarky. Last night we met DJ Ken, who will be providing an assortment of quality music for the party. He was very, very enthusiastic and kept saying yes to my requests, which I like. He also kept saying it was going to be a wicked night, which was encouraging. He has also agreed not to play any shit pop music, which is perfect. So, no It's Raining Men, no YMCA, no I Will Survive, no Britney, Timberlake, Boyzone. Excellent.

We then had a meeting with the 'event manager', who also made me feel reassured that everything was going to go to plan. The venue will be taking care of our every whim and ensuring everything runs on time. This is really what I needed to hear.

He's got wheels

Finally sorted out TOH's birthday bicycle last night. Good old Evans in Waterloo. So, for the boy who hated camping and cycling as a child, he is doing pretty well.

We pick it up next Tuesday after work and will be cycling home. Anyone driving at that time, please take care as he is still learning what the brakes are for.

JC!

Call me shallow but I have just bought the most beautiful pair of shoes for The Wedding. They are now hidden away, to be bought out again just beforehand to wear them in around the house.

I try not to be materialistic, but these shoes have really, really cheered me up. I think it might be because they are the first thing I have organised for the big day which I actually have in my hands, unlike the dress, the registrar, the food, etc etc.

They have rekindled my interest in organising stuff, which, to be honest, I really couldn't be bothered to do before. So that's good news for people who will be coming along!

All I wanna do is bicycle

It snowed a blizzard yesterday. I love snow. I think next to thunder storms, it might be my favourite weather.

It was in the snow that I wandered down the Isle of Dogs to Wharf Cycles.

We have spent a lot of time recently trying to find TOH a bike, which I am getting him for his birthday. It is proving to be quite a frustrating experience as the two shops that have actually been open when we visited didn't have any of the ones we wanted to look at in the store.

But, I think we might have found one. I'll get that boy on a cycling tour if it is the last thing I do!

Off to get my Jimmy Choo wedding shoes tonight - it is almost too exciting for words.

I'm too old for this

It's a worry but I really do feel like I am too old for all this going out malarky!
Friday night I met TOH in Shoreditch for a couple of drinks with his work mates but lasted about two hours before I had to go and sit down in a restaurant and eat instead.

Saturday I went down to Bromley town to be a little bit naughty with one of the Greenpeacers. We wandered innocently around all the car parks of London's 'clean and green' borough ticketing all the 4x4s we could find. And we could find a lot of them as Bromley is the spiritual homeland of excess (nouveau riche, you see).

At one point, Roisin put a ticket on the car of a woman who was decanting her trolley into the boot (I was too scared to do it). The woman became rather angry and began following us but was too gutless to actually say anything to us. As we went through the carpark doors, I heard her pointedly rip up the ticket. I think she went to grass us up too because as we were leaving the carpark a man in a yellow jacket was walking determindly in our direction. Tee hee!

But, all that excitement wore me out for the evening. I was supposed to be meeting Jo et al in Soho but couldn't get myself out of my armchair. I was exhausted. Sorry guys! We just stayed in and watched Mike Bassett: England Manager instead.

Yesterday, we treated ourselves to another Ramsey lunch deal at Claridges. The food was exquisite again, but as we went with Lee and Katie we talked more and appreciated less. Still it is lovely in there. I can highly recommend it to anyone. £30 a head, can't go wrong.

After, we had a whizz down Bond Street. I saw those lovely shoes again which I want for my wedding. Still umming-and-arring over them though as they are most certainly not ivory. They are LOUD, to say the least.

We then went to Selfridges to get TOH a shirt but we came out with his wedding suit instead. Not with the suit in our hands though - it is going back to the designer to get altered. But we're getting there. The more organising done now, the less of a flap I will be in come July.

Farewell Mr Hardee

I was supposed to meet someone in the Trafalgar Tavern last night but we had to cancel because there was a 'last minute funeral' being held upstairs.

There was a report about it in the Scum today. Guess who was being so inconsiderate!

Addition: check HIL-arious Michael Jackson video.
(Link courtesy of TOH)

Who said romance was dead?

Ahhh, TOH was King of Romance yesterday. After a couple of weeks of saying how much he hated Valentine's Day and that it was just commercial rubbish and that I wasn't to do anything for it, he sent me a card and a single red rose!

The card was excellent - it was one of those ones with the old 50s photo on the front of a woman pouring out a bottle of beer into a glass. The caption read: 'Tracey poured herself a beer, grabbed a couple of bags of crisps and settled down to watch her fitness videos'

Quite hilarious considering my supposed current health and fitness kick!

The rose was sent to work. There is something terribly satisfying about being one of the few girls in the office to receive flowers. It brings a big sheep-like grin to the face which lasts all day.

Weekend catch up

On Friday we went to see Sideways. It really is an excellent film but an unlikely Oscar candidate. It was about two 40-somethings who go on a stag wine tasting week. The groom is desparate to get laid and the best man freaked out about virtually everything.

The lead actor, Paul Giamatti, was absolutely convincing if a little too creepy as he reminded me precisely of someone I work with, down to their facial characteristics - it was like spying on his life.

On Saturday I did a protest cycle and march with about 3,000 other people to mark the beginning of the Kyoto agreement. We paraded through London carrying flags of all the countries which have signed up, stopped off at the Australian embassy (not signed) and finished up at the American embassy (not signed up).

It was great fun and very colourful. But one disturbing thing was that the old bill had photographers out snapping away, taking our pictures. It was very sinister. After all, we were just exercising our democratic right to protest, there was no trouble.

I made the mistake of asking an officer what the photos were for and received an interrogration about who I was, which groups I belonged to, where I live etc. I managed to deflect all the questions but the officer was very scary - like a non-comedy Herr Flick. We weren't even treated that badly in Turkmenistan! I always tell TOH off when he slags off the police but on this occasion I agreed with him that they were behaving like c***s.

Order!

Last night I went to my first (and possibly) last resident's meeting where the people in our flats met with the management company, which is supposed to take care of the building.

You can only imagine the sort of conversations that were being had. Basically, the residents are none too impressed with the level of service. The management company tried to blame everything on Wimpey.

Let there be one lesson learnt - never buy a Wimpey home. Not even if they are going cheap.

Does she do extras?

I treated my self to a massage last night at the Elemis day spa off of Bond Street. The place is very nice, all wood and muted browns with a strong lavander aroma. But the girl doing the massage spent too much time talking and not enough time kneading the knots out of my back.

She was wonderfully indiscreet, however, when I asked her if most of the clients were rich and glamorous. Yes, she said. Why just the other day, Jude Law and Sienna Miller were in there getting a back rub. And yes, he is devilishly handsome in real life and that he said he'd never felt so relaxed.

Jude bloody Law. He is everywhere.

The masseuse also said some TV woman came in and Geri Halliwell, who is apparently very nice.

I came out smelling nice, and all that, but to be honest it wasn't really worth the money. TOH has given me a better neck rub.

Suits you, sir

I was given access to a very strange world last night; that of the gentlemen's tailor.

The Other Half asked me to go with him to help him choose a fabric for a new suit, which he was ordering from a Hong Kong firm which visits London about three times a year. He has had a couple made before and they are very good.

I was to meet him in the Novotel by Fenchurch St station, where the tailors were. I imagined they would be in some sort of conference room but no, we took the lift to the seventh floor and entered a hotel room.

It all felt a bit weird, especially when I stepped inside and saw about five men standing about looking at fabrics with slightly guilty expressions on their faces, like it was all a bit effeminate, or something a bit shameful.

A couple of guys seemed to know what they wanted and were being measured up. Others were a bit overwhelmed by the intimacy, especially as they had been seen by a girl! And a girl in full lumious cycling kit too!

Greenhouse piece

Last night was the inaugural meeting of East London Greenpeace (name to be confirmed as apparently Essex GP are not happy at the thought of us being ELGP - wtf!!)

A fantastic 10 people turned up and everyone seems dead keen to save the planet. Brilliant.

During the day, I tried to contact East London University to see if their environmental officer wanted to help get stoodnts involved but he wasn't in. The girl who took a message kept calling it Greenhouse Piece - like she'd never heard of GP?

On a completely different note, I had a little tear spring to my eye today as Ellen MacArthur returned home victorious. Those pictures of her little boat in the flotilla heading into Falmouth and her little face ... She is defintely my biggest hero!

Home fires burning

A very homely weekend was to be had at TOH's parent's chocolate-box cottage in the country - crackling fires, good food cooked in the aga and a 7.5mile walk up hill, down dale and through the woods.

All excellent practice for Hadrian's Wall and a chance to break in my new walking boots. Poor old TOH though, he has now discovered his are too small! So if anyone wants a pair of top-notch walking boots, men's size 9, only worn twice, let me know.

Oy Oy!

What a sad day for comedy. Malcolm Hardee is brown bread. His body was pulled from the Thames yesterday, after he was reported missing a couple of days previously.

Who? You might well ask. Hardee was the dog-eared old geezer who ran Up The Creek in Greenwich (and now Croydon and Maidstone), often seen stumbling about his stage naked, or at the very least with his glasses on his cock (There you go, Charles de Gaulle).

He had three jokes:

What’s the difference between pink and purple?
Your grip

There’s people starving in Africa, not round the edges, plenty of fish

and

I met my wife in Australia. I said: ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

The audience had heard them so many times he rarely even bothered saying the punchlines himself, but when the acts weren’t going down too well, particularly on the Sunday open mike sessions, he could turn the crowd (which was often ready to taste blood) around.

He was namechecked by numerous comedians during their routines, including the likes of Daniel Kitson.

I remember the night Daniel did his first stand up at UTC after being one of the few who triumphed on an open mike session. After he h-h-h-h-handled the h-h-h-ecklers with ease and had the rest of us in tears, Hardee came on, and in his typical deadpan, said ‘Daniel Kitson, thought he was going to be shit, but he wasn’t. Don’t matter’

One of the good things about working for the Shopper was hanging about UTC, and Greenwich generally, for work which lead to spending a couple of nights over the years buying Hardee alcohol.

One memorable night upstairs at the Trafalgar we were getting lashed at the inaugural Greenwich Film Festival. (I then stumbled up to Mike Figgis and slurred in the manner of Withnail, ‘I have no questions prepared. I am quite pissed,’ to which he replied ‘Ah, my favourite type of interview’.)

But the best bit about those brief meetings of Hardee was he never had any idea who I and Lozza were! Probably who he was either.

Ah, the good old days … Oy Oy!

A bottle of your finest wine

A thoroughly splendid night was had by all who attended Zanakia, or was it Zanukia, by Southwark Bridge last night.

At first I thought the bar would not be letting me in as I arrived in full cycling kit - lots of luminous yellow and deeply uncool trouser clips - and the manager pounced on me.

It turns out he was merely establishing how many of us there would be and whether or not we would be requiring a window seat!

I did indeed want a table with a view, friend, I said to him, clocking his too pale jeans, checked shirt tucked in the waistband and realising that perhaps being cool isn't obligatory here. And bring me your drinks menu.

While I waited for the first arrivee, Gail, I rather confused one of the sour waitressess by asking her if the bar did a 'normal' mojito, rather than the exotically-named mojitos which contained foreign ingredients. She said they did but, remembering the legendary drinks in Dos Hermanos, in Old Havana Town, I behaved a bit like a twat and enquired into what sort of mint they used. The real deal Cuban-style barkeep was very proud of his American mint, and to be honest, I have never had a really decent mojito here (except those four or five when Bridget was last over).

Anyway, she decided to go and get a sample leaf but while she was gone, I decided I just wanted wine as the cocktail contains heaps of sugar. When she came back, I tasted the leaf, declared it bland and demanded a glass of their finest red.

Gail, Bellen and Jo arrived and the good times followed. Bellen was armed with pictures of wedding cake ideas and Jo with brochures for Gail's hen night ideas.

Poor old Bellenator was uncommonly ruffled and needed several drinks in a row to regain her posture - work is being a bugger for her as her MP conference speaker decided to mess her about.

We were all rather excited about the imminent return of the MBE-inator so Jo and I ordered a big fat chocolate brownie each for pudding, with choco-nut ice cream ... mmm diets, health and fitness went out the window!

A big cycle home, however, soon made me feel better. Southwark Bridge to Home in just 40minutes. Yesss!

The Hasslehof-inator

Prepare to lose your mind!
Yup! It's a slow news day in Wyebirdworld.