Since seeing Top Gun and The Final Countdown, I always wanted to get on board a US Navy Aircraft Carrier. While I haven't managed to do that yet, I have done something equally cool, if not cooler.

I had a guided tour on one of the world's most prestigious cruise ships - the Queen Mary 2! 160.000 tons of ocean-going luxury!

Consider this set of circumstances:

I am now working in Curacao, not exactly around the corner from most places.

I have a good friend who is the F&B Manager on the Queen Mary 2.

The Queen Mary comes to Curacao on Boxing Day 2007.

We manage to meet up on board!

And this is how it went: After some emailing back and forth with my friend Oliver and getting some security issues out of the way, at about 8am on Boxing Day 2007 2 friends and myself board one of the most famous cruise ships around for a tour of the ship, some breakfast and some drinks.

What can I say? Amazing! Extraordinary! Outstanding! Fantastic! If you ever get a chance to do this, by all means do it. You will not regret it.

The ship is built for Atlantic Crossings and the rough weather that might come with that, but inside you would never know it.

The place has got about everything. Restaurants, Bars, Night Clubs, Ballrooms, a theatre, a cinema, a Planetarium, a Casino, a world-class spa, tons of shops, an art gallery, a library, pools, basketball courts and god knows what else.

Ah yes, about 1500 cabins for up to 3056 passengers and about 1256 crew. And all the stuff that goes with it to move such a massive piece of equipment around(i.e. engines producing 157.000 horsepower) and at the same time support a life of luxury for the people who can afford to go on such a cruise. That means massive kitchens producing around 12.000 meals a day, gigantic laundries, a desalination plant, giant storerooms to store about 160 pallets full of food and drink, an incinerator and much much more.

Under the competent guidance of my friend we had a look at most of these areas, then went for the best breakfast I can remember in a long time to keep us going for some more exploring.

On that day the ship was the highest and largest building in Curacao and offered some of the best views.

As pictures probably say more than words, I'll let you see some more.

Let's start with some restaurants and bars...

Or how about some spotless, shiny kitchens?

The store rooms were especially impressive to me. Beer anyone? Meat? Some wine maybe? Fish?

But it's too cold in here. Let's go outside!

Well, enough for now. You get the idea. You really need to go and experience it yourself. If you don't have the cash to book a cruise (www.cunard.com), you can always go and work on a cruise ship. It's just 6 months or so at a time with 14 hour days without a day off. Easy.

Oliver obviously manages it well. In case you're wondering, he is doing fine, looking well, and will be moving to Australia (of all places) in a couple of weeks.

He also seems to like standing on the left in pictures.

Oli, thanks a million for making this happen! I know we cost you a great deal of time. Please also pass our thanks onto the Provision Master whose name I managed to forget already (Bofatt?).

It was great to see you and I hope we can repeat this at some point in the future. Maybe around the pool in the sun somewhere with an Erdinger in front of us discussing the successes of Bayern München.

Safe travels at all times.

While it is raining noticeably more the last few weeks, the rain showers are mostly short and the temperatures are still around 30 degrees.

With the weather being just a tad different than to what most of you might be used to for this time of year, you might think it's a bit hard to get a Christmas feeling. While this might be true for me personally (it's always like that I'm afraid), make no mistake, Christmas and New Years is serious business here.

Almost every house is decorated and everybody has a Christmas tree. And I mean a proper Christmas tree, not a Christmas palm.

Now hang on a minute you might think. You probably don't remember the traditional sort of trees as a particular landscape feature from your last Caribbean holiday. Well, they're not. Christmas trees here are shipped in in containers from Canada!

I haven't really been shopping, but I think the approach is a bit more relaxed here, but then I am used to the Oxford Street frenzy where there are more people to be found on 200 meters than on this whole island. You can't escape the Christmas music however, even though it's a nice change to the English Wham-based attacks on your ears.

There is Christmas parties as well of course.

My departmental Christmas party was an even more subdued affair than back in England, which came as a bit of a surprise. Normally my new crowd is a bit more jumpy than the Grosvenor House Finance team where I just had 2 or 3 people to fall back on when it came to after dinner entertainment. Here, there was no after dinner entertainment!! This is a first I believe. This was made up for the next day at the Managers Christmas Party with subsequent partying on the beach.

In contrast to England Christmas parties here seem to be less of an opportunity to get completely lashed and to misbehave. Well, nobody told me, so all the misbehaving was up to me and you'll be proud to hear that I promptly stepped up to the plate... Good that I was working a late shift the next day... I won't say anything else.

Here are some of the more civilized pictures of the 2 events.

That leaves one more Christmas subject: the Food.

People stare at you in disbelief when you announce that the traditional Christmas fare back home is goose or maybe duck. Here it is turkey, again.

I never understood that. Why, with turkey just having been the main attraction for Thanksgiving do you you rely on the same again for Christmas?

Anyway, turkey is far too boring to talk about, so let's talk about the other Christmas delicacy here: Pigs Ears.

That's right. Pigs Ears marinated in vinegar, then fried and served with onions. Crunchy. People love it! I did try it, but I doubt I will become a committed fan.

Okay, so much for Christmas. We survived another year and are now waiting for New Years. This is a big thing here too!

And there is something these people here do seem to love more than Pigs Ears: Fireworks!

Now to say that Curacaleneans like fireworks is like saying fish appreciate water. Good Lord!

In the not so distant past my friends and I have spent many a New Years buying fireworks and spending hours and days trying to blow each other up, so I think that I speak with some authority here. But we were merely the most ridiculous amateurs compared to what people here put on. There is more or less constant banging even while write this in the afternoon!

Companies compete on who can make the longest and loudest firecracker strings. And when I say strings, I mean long long strings, as measured in hundreds of meters!!!!

There is fireworks displays every day now. I watched a 20 minute one yesterday!

And when I say fireworks displays I mean something comparable to what they do at the Olympics closing ceremony or similar. Absolutely Amazing!!! You could probably build a bridge to Holland for all the money being spent. I'm looking forward to the big ones on New Years Eve.

With that I will leave you now. It's sort of the last chance for me to go to the beach before all the crazy Year End/Budgeting frenzy starts and Happy Hour is about to start.

So, to all of you a healthy, prosperous and adventurous 2008! I hope I will see many of you in the new year. Bottoms Up!

Apologies again for not writing more often, but time really flies when you're having fun, or have a lot of work or are traveling or all of the just mentioned as seems to be the case for me.

I have been snowed under with work and have been away from the island for a couple of days (for those of you who are keeping notes, I've been to Puerto Rico on a work related trip, so unfortunately nothing special to report). I'm also pretty sure that I had some fun somewhere in between, but here is the thing, I can't particularly remember. This has become a big deal for me lately. Remembering stuff. I seem to have stopped remembering stuff.

I used to be very good at it, indeed I was (maybe I even still am) well known for it. The good old Platzl hotel where I did my training did not have the keycards that every hotel seems to have now, but real keys with number tags. I was famous for recognizing guests and their room number so I could give them their key even before they asked for it.

I also used to be very good at remembering birthdays, car license plates and names. The birthdays I still try to keep up even though I have to make use of little gagdets for it. Any license plate other than my own (and I find even that taxing these days) has been erased from memory.

Names (and people) then is the really worrying bit. I increasingly meet people that I could swear I have never before seen in my life. These people however are very familiar with me and who might even have been through some rather hair-raising situations (hair-raising for them that is) with me. I obviously try to pretend remembering all these particular incidents and fake recognition, but afterwards I have conversations with people that remember us both that go something like this:

Me: Now who the hell was that?

Common friend (CF): Well, that was Miss XY of course

Me: Who is Miss XY?

CF: She was in the year below us in College in Switzerland and you were really trying to chat her up at the Summer Barbecue on Riederalp.

Me: I've never been to a barbecue at Riederalp.

CF: Yes, you've been. You were part of the organizing team.

Me: I was what? When the heck was that? What happened?

CF: Well, everybody got pretty drunk, you disappeared for a while with Miss XY, almost missed the last gondola back down to the valley and in the end she took over your room when you left Switzerland.

Me: I had a room?

I have had conversations like this with my ex-girlfriend that went on for days and I still have been none the wiser at the end.

I guess it's just a sign of age and I have to say there is three good things I can say about age:

I can sleep sitting up now, I can read the same book or watch the same TV program over and over again with no clue as towards the outcome and I can't actually remember the third thing.

At least it adds entertainment value for everybody else. Increasingly I have telephone conversations with the girls in my office that go like this:

Me: S, I'm in Purchasing, why am I here?

S: You've gone to get some Purchase Orders.

Me: Thank you.

Similarly I have wandered from my bedroom to the kitchen (which is not all that far) to find that upon arrival I had no clue what I wanted in the kitchen.

You would think that this problem gets better the older you get as there is less of a mind to grow absent, but it doesn't seem to work that way.

My neighbor, the ever loyal Miss M from P has put me on some Gingko tablets now to sort of provide doping to the gray matter upstairs. We'll see if it works, or, more interestingly, if I remember to take the tablets on time.

Speaking of time: Time is actually another interesting one: Should the police ever show up and ask: Where were you in the hours between 4pm and 11pm on December 21? I will just hold out my hands for them to cuff me and take me away as there is no chance of me remembering.

It's been like this for as long as I can remember, which, of course, is not very long.

In any case, before rambling on forever, I better quit. I believe the point I was trying to make was that forgetfulness is not necessarily a bad thing, but to tell you the truth, I don't remember now.

First of all let me assure you that this is going to be a bit more upbeat than last week. Just a little crisis there, nothing to worry about... But thank you all nonetheless for all the messages of support and Facebook hugs and whatever else. I was surprised that so many of you actually still read this.

This week I actually wanted to write about Thanksgiving as I do also have quite a lot to be thankful for, but there has been something else on my mind for a while so I will report on that first. And I am very thankful for what I'm about to write too, so there you go. But enough introduction, here we go.

I think it goes without saying that I probably must have the worst possible German accent ever when trying to speak English (or any other language for that matter) and I would expect more people to approach me to do voiceovers for Audi (yes, I can say Vorsprung durch Technik the way god meant it to be said) or play some Nazi Hauptmann in their play or commercial (all things considered, I'm too small probably and don't have enough facial hair).

Alas, no. I have only been here since July, but it seems that I have already built a certain reputation about my English writing skills. Apparently I'm the man to see if you need an email or a letter written in English to anyone, especially if you are trying to convey to the recipient that you are not exactly happy with something.

Even wilder, recently I got asked if I could help write somebody's Business Plan to convince the bank to hand over the money to realize someone's lifelong dream project. I don't know if it gets any more serious than this.

So, these days I'm writing cover letters, look over CVs, correspond with solicitors, various banks and landlords and, my personal favorite, write the text for somebody's CD booklet. How cool is that?

All this has come as a surprise to me. Back in my old job I was notorious for writing emails that did not exactly enhance teamwork, or at least so I was repeatedly told. Thus, I would never have guessed that people would want me to put their correspondence to paper. But, make no mistake, so it is.

Just the other day somebody said to me something like: Thanks man, you write one mean letter.

These are probably not exactly the words that were used, but that was the gist of it and this is what got me thinking.

Why? Well, because this is exactly how I think about the letters that my dad writes.

Whenever I read a letter my dad writes to some unfortunate creature, I usually think: Whoa, I'm amazed the paper doesn't curl up by itself.....

Finally I have found something that I'm considered good at. Something just like I think my dad is good at doing.

Now, I can see you think: What the hell does he mean and where the heck is this going? Let me explain:

I will have to speculate but I think most boys will go through some of the following phases at some point during their lives:

- Your dad is sooooo cool and strong and funny etc. (I think this phase is generally reserved for age 2 - 4)

- Your dad has no idea what is cool whatsoever and can't possibly ever been young himself (age 5 - 25) ....

If you're lucky like me, there is an additional phase:

- Your dad might not be cool exactly but at least he is coughing up the money for a decent education, so that's okay, isn't it?

Depending on the outcome of these phases and also depending on your general relationship with your parents either one of 2 things will then probably happen in some sort of variation:

- You try to be as different as humanly possible from your dad in what you choose to do for a living, the way you lead your life, who you vote for etc. or

- You try to beat your dad at his own game and get a better job, make more money etc.

It goes without saying that this will have rather varying degrees of success.

In my own case I have been at option 2 for maybe the last 8 or 9 years until I realized 2 or 3 years ago that while I would like to achieve what my dad has achieved I probably have no prayer in ever doing so.

To start with, he holds a PhD, so unless I wanna go back to school for a good while, that's out.

Also, he's not only holding down his normal job on a day to day basis, he is also the author of such important books like "Your Companion to English Literary Texts, Analysis and Interpretation of Narrative Prose" or the editor of "Mittelhochdeutsche Kurzgrammatik". For all I know these titles might even mean something.

He is also a skilled entertainer and gambler and I think is rather popular with most people.

In addition, he owns a massive house, brought up 3 boys that must have cost him more than just a few hairs, even though this has to this day not stopped him financing their little (mostly not so successful, but still rather pricey) adventures.

See what I mean? How the hell would I ever be able to do that? The clock is ticking you know.

However, apart from the already cited English writing skills, I seem to discover more and more stuff that seem to make me become more and more like my dad.

Just like him I'm just a tad impatient, prone to napping in inappropriate places and women (in my case my boss and my neighbor) seem to prefer talking to me when they are in a different room (a trick that my mother has successfully used over the last 30 years to drive my dad bonkers).

Now the thing that did it for me was that I have started teaching last week. I'm not certain yet, but I think I like it. I have not really had the urge to expel one of my students by means of a window yet, but I can easily see how you get to the point and could not blame my dad any more if he would throw them out in boatloads.

So, before I go rambling on forever, I guess I am happy to report that I'm becoming my dad and that I'm not in the least worried about it. I guess it does not necessarily skip a generation, like he likes to say.

So, thank you Dad, everything done in the last 32 years is much appreciated. And Mom, just give me a little bit and I will hopefully list how I am like you as well.

Belated happy Thanksgiving everyone!

W

Sorry guys, been very busy lately but just now something happened that first made me think and then sit down to write this. I was thinking about writing this in German as it might only be relevant to a small group, but then I decided against it. Very few, if not nobody of you will be able to connect to what I'm trying to say anyway...

I think I can honestly say that I'm generally not someone who tends to be homesick. I don't call home every few days or any stuff like that and I get along just fine. I'm okay, wherever I am. Most of the times anyway. A few times however, it does hit me, and then it is usually is quite strong. Today is one of these days. I believe it's down to a combination of factors...

I have an exceptionally busy week (the boss is away you see) that is far from over and I'm drowning in work. To top it off, I'm Manager on Duty tomorrow, something I've grown to looking forward to about as much as a visit to the dentist (even though it must be said I do have an excellent dentist).

That in itself is probably not so unusual, but I did screw up a few things this week that now need fixing and I'm not particularly good at that. In one particular case involving a pretty lady it unfortunately seems even beyond fixing.

Moreover, today is my brother's 30th birthday and I somehow can't get rid of the feeling I should be there with him and the rest of the gang.

Happy Birthday Runzel! Thinking about you in a land far far away. Hope you have a good one.... I wish I could be there...

I also missed the stag night of one of my best friends' last weekend, but as I was in New York, that somehow seemed an acceptable exchange. Of course it is not. Can someone please report what happened?

Anyway, it's a Saturday afternoon and after having spent 5 hours at work, I'm sitting at home trying to prepare a presentation. Powerpoint is not something I would call my friend at the best of times and I have trouble concentrating anyway. I'm thinking about how stupid you can be, how I'm not cut out for my job, that I will never understand girls and god knows what else. This I actually do a lot.

What is different this time is that I have iTunes running in the background which is on Shuffle so it's randomly sifting through the about 1000 songs I have on my laptop. Now here is what happens when I have all these thoughts going through my head:

iTunes selects a song from a band called Haindling called Irgendwie und Sowieso. This is the name and theme tune of something of a cult Bavarian TV series and it triggers a serious bout of homesickness. I cannot begin to explain. Those of you who know the song and the series and have been away for a while might understand.

I used to watch this program quite a lot because like nothing else it manages to bring across what a great feeling it is like to grow up in Bavaria, where, for the lack of better words, the world is still in order.

I think the last time I watched more than one episode must now be about 6 or 7 years ago at about 3am guarding a Maibaum with my mates from the fire brigade. Again, I couldn't begin to explain.

Liebe Freunde und Kameraden,

Ich würd jetzt so gern mit euch im Stüberl oder sonst wo in Erding sitzen und ein Weissbier trinken (es gibt hier kein Weissbier!!). Ich weiss es klingt albern, aber ich vermisse tatsächlich um halb drei in der früh aus dem Bett zu rollen um dann halb die Treppe runter zu fallen um 3 Minuten später einen Einsatz zu fahren. Ich bin in Gedanken bei euch. Es gibt nichts was eine sinnvollere Beschäftigung wäre... Glaubt mir, auch wenn vielleicht grad keine Bahn fährt, ihr wohnt in einem wunderbaren Fleckchen Erde und wenn wieder mal ein Maibaum fällig ist, sagt Bescheid. Wir können die ganze Nacht Irgendwie und Sowieso schauen....

Und Wuschi, ich weiss ja nicht ob ich zur Hochzeit eingeladen bin, aber bitte jede Menge Vorwarnung geben!!

Missing you all like crazy!!

It seems that some of my loyal readers would prefer some more pictures over just my reporting, so let's see what I can do.

I had considered posting a picture of my ankle which had turned purple for a while, but then thought that some of you might be reading this over breakfast and not even I am that mean.

I'm not very good at taking pictures I have to admit, so what you're about to see is mostly from somebody else. Let's start with a recent trip to the beach to get you all a bit jealous and then work our way through some sightseeing and my combined Housewarming/Birthday party.

Goddamn awful, isn't it? What do you think?

Here's some more directed more at your entertainment... if you lose your appetite now, I can't really help it

I could tell you a story now about jetskis, a guy called Coyote with only one arm and dreadlocks, but you would not believe it anyway, so let's move on.

Here's a bit of downtown Willemstad:

And a bit of information for you.... not sure if you'll be able to read it....

Here is where I drink away my hard earned bucks...

    located in the

And finally some pictures of the biggest cruise ship we get here. Let me tell you, it is massive!

Which finally brings us to the Housewarming party... It's nothing compared to Cafe Bendl, but we did try at least and I believe we can call it a success. Again, I will have to be a bit careful in publishing pictures here. Some people apparently do not appreciate it very much...

And this is when the dancing, singing and other madness starts...

And on an on and on... Thank you to everyone who came, for all your help and presents.

The next day I was MOD again, thank god it was quiet...

Gotta get some sleep, so we'll leave it at that for now. Take care

A little note before I start: It has been pointed out to me that some people might not really appreciate the way I portrait them or their country here so unless I'm certain I can ridicule you in public, I will be a little more careful with names etc. and what is going on at the place that I call work. I hope it does not have too much of a detrimental effect...

Well, another week has come and the Biggest Loser program is now in full swing.

Monday saw the start of the special menu in the canteen (sigh) and also the beginning of the first activity: Powerwalking.

There are actually 2 choices for taking part. One at 6am (I THINK NOT) and one at 6pm.

It was my full intention to participate and report back to you lovely people what this intriguing activity might entail, but it was not to be.

On Monday, I just missed the 6pm group and was therefore forced to rely on Miss M from P and on another friend who would normally not be my first choice as an exercise partner. You see, he just ran the Amsterdam Marathon 2 weeks ago and even finished it, so we're not exactly in the same league when it comes to exercising. He also carries a slightly worrying amount of gizmos when exercising. Believe me, man has gone to the moon and back with less computing power than he takes for a jog. However, he is younger than me, has even less hair than me (hehe) and is known to make the occasional sarcastic comment (mostly for my, ah, benefit), so I don't normally mind having him around.

Anyway, those 2 were available so off we go in a weird mixture of running and walking. Weird mixture because Miss M is walking and the rest would rather run and actually does so in what could maybe called installments, i.e. run for a little then turn back to fall back to Miss M before starting over.

Before we started I had to wait a little for the 2 of them and so I had time to stretch and warm up a little which turns out to be a good thing.

In fact, it proves absolutely vital as maybe 2 kilometers away from the hotel I trip and land awkwardly on my left foot.

Those of you who know me and my medical history for a bit longer do know that if I'm not currently fighting for my life against swollen tonsils blocking my airways, my usual area of expertise is ruining my knees. However, my body seems to go along with the whole changing-of-life-moving-to-Curacao thing and decides against the knees and goes for the ankle. Ouch!

For a minute or so I just think that this is it again: Cast, crutches, physio-therapy and the lot. Those of you who have ever broken, ruptured or sprained something will know what I mean.

Leaning against the wall and standing on my good foot, I carefully test how much strain my injured foot will take. Not a lot. I also wonder how the hell I will get back to civilization. While my friend's gadgets might be able to monitor my heart rate and other life signs and pinpoint our GPS position to about a meter for the Med-Evac, they don't fare so well when trying to replicate a wheelchair.

The situation does improve though after maybe a minute or so and I slowly start hobbling back towards the hotel. In my mind, nightmare scenarios keep unfolding about having to deal with a cast in these temperatures and being stuck at my desk the whole day. Miss M does her best to enliven my ankle fantasies by providing some horror stories of her own, mostly referring to painkillers and the fact that you can't really drink alcohol while you're taking them. This has some alarm bells ringing I can tell you...

While it's not comfortable, at this point I can still walk within reason. This will remain so for the rest of the evening when I ice the ankle and also put on some Sports Cream provided by my friend thinking positively about the future.

This has changed dramatically by the time I wake up Tuesday morning. I'm back to the point where I can't really put any weight on it and every movement hurts.

Luckily it's my left foot and I drive an automatic so at least I can drive reasonably well and get to the hotel. The way from the car park to the office is long though and I get there exhausted. At this point there is no doubt that I will have to seek medical attention if things are to improve.

I go and see a lovely doctor who confirms a sprained (and by this time quite swollen) ankle. I get some cooling gel and anti-inflammatory medication plus a bandage and am told to take it easy (poco poco). An X/ray is considered unnecessary.

I would like to point out that the medical service received is much better than the skeptical old me has expected. It's not at all complicated and very quick, both at the doctor as well as the pharmacy. It's easily ten times better than England (big deal I hear a lot of you think) but also good in comparison with Germany and I would say it can hold it's own against Norway and Switzerland.

So, instead of exercising, I just sit around a lot collecting dust. It does give me time for writing up all this though, so at least you benefit.

I will keep you informed on how I'm doing.

No, I'm not gonna whine about how old I am or how little hair I have or gonna bore you with any of the grief others or I have recently endured. Instead, I will tell you about a new initiative happening here at the hotel. Some of you might be aware that there is a program in the US called The Biggest Loser. There is a spin-off of this in the UK and also in Germany I believe whose names currently elude me.

In essence, it's a program about losing weight. We might not have cameras or drill-sergeants but still, that is what we are going to try and do here at the hotel with any associate who cares to participate. At least in principle. The program will run for 3 months and whoever loses the most weight on a percentage basis, will receive some special prize. The hotel is running the whole program and there is organized Sports activities and a special menu in the canteen. They have also given everybody a special diet plan (Ha!) and will measure progress at set intervals.

Those of you who have recently seen me back in Germany or the UK will have noticed that I had lost a bit of weight already (about 7 kgs to be precise and thank you really for all the flattering comments) but you all know also that there is still lots of room for improvement.

So, of course, I signed up. Almost my entire department actually did. About half of all the associates participate, at least for the time being. Time will tell how many of us will still be around by the time the program ends at the beginning of January.

Also, not all of us will have lost weight. You see, the entire schedule is worked out to work against you. Let me explain: You are not only fighting your body, who by the way is more than reluctant to give up any of that religiously stored fat, you are also fighting the calendar.

You don't need to be a rocket scientist (or even very smart for that matter) to work out that between now and the beginning of January lie 2 festivities which normally are not exactly associated with dieting. On the contrary, it seems that these days the sole purpose of Thanksgiving and Christmas is to submit yourself to the yearly experiment of seeing how much food (and drink) you can stuff yourself with before repairing to the couch to watch a Detroit Lions or Dallas Cowboys game or thanking good ol' Aunt Gladys (who is just a tad hard of hearing) for the lovely sweater with the Unicorn motive. In any case, the timing of the whole thing could obviously not be more unfortunate and a bigger challenge to my discipline (which most of you are perfectly aware is shaky at the best of times).

Be that all as it may, it all started for real last Monday with everybody getting weighed and photographed and then told how much weight they need to lose to achieve their ideal weight.

In my case that is a sobering 17 kilos! Yeah right! I will not share with you how much I would weigh then, but let me tell you that it must be about 15 years since I passed that weight mark. 10th grade would be my best guess. And during those days I had far more hair, good looks and brain cells!  Much as that might sound and undoubtedly is, it's nowhere near some of the kilo figures that some of my fellow associates are supposed to lose. There are individuals who need to lose more than 40 kilos, so that is the only thing that currently makes me feel slightly better. I have no intention of losing 17 kilos, if I get rid of 8 to 10 I will consider it a massive success.

Well, instead of babbling on, I must ask you to excuse me. My neighbor (the loyal Miss M from P) and I have decided that we would start all this in earnest on Monday. So until then, I'm off to enjoy life, beer, pancakes, cheesecake, full fat coke and something amazing called Cheetos, which to describe would take another whole blog entry by itself.

More next week, and ah yes, please don't tell Aunt Gladys about the Unicorn sweater...