From London to Ibiza and back....

Brighton Half Marathon - 17 days to go....

2012-02-02T08:14:00.000-08:00

12 miles - where the endorphins really kicked in!

I get it, I get what this running lark is all about now, I can see why people get a little addicted to it. Never thought I'd turn into a running junkie but it appears to have happened. I'm actually looking forward to the Brighton Half Marathon and already thinking of my first Marathon - now will it be London, Paris or New York?

I did the 12 mile run last Saturday. If I'm completely honest, I was a little apprehensive about it. Not because of the distance but because I suffered so much after the 11 mile run the week before. I was concerned about feeling like that again. Plus I had a blind date (of sorts) the next day and I really didn't want to find myself walking like someone who was about 97. Nor did I want to struggle to stay awake. Post 11 mile run, I could barely move. A combination of extremely stiff muscles and immense tiredness. On the Sunday I didn't wake until after midday - I thought I was being lazy but I think my body was actually taking cover from attack! In between 11 and 12 miles, my training trailed off. I didn't choose that, it just happened like. Which meant that after the 11 mile run on the Saturday, I didn't run again until Wednesday (and it was little 3 mile run). I actually felt better for having a rest. Still didn't stop me from feeling mildly apprehensive about doing the 12 mile run, especially as when the day came, I was awake from 4 in the morning. Not due to the run - I've been waking at this time a lot recently - last week it happened 4 times. I've given up trying to fight it or get back to sleep - there's too much adrenaline so I've started doing work at 5 in the morning, sat in bed with my laptop - weirdly I seem to concentrate best if I'm up with the birds!

My last couple of long runs I've done in Dulwich Park but I decided to go back to Peckham Rye as I much prefer running on that open space. As I can't count laps or keep track of distance on the Rye, I thought I'd keep running for as long as I could before I checked my gizmo (the name I've given to the gadget to measure distance, time etc). I started running and found myself enjoying it somewhat. I kept running and running, oblivious to the distance I'd done. Somewhere around the 7 mile mark, I noticed a change - I felt like I could just keep going on and on and on. My breathing was much deeper, as if I was using bits of my lungs I'd never accessed before (or certainly not while running). I actually felt high and stayed this way until about the 10 mile mark. It did feel quite amazing! A bit like when I felt as if golden champagne bubbles were cascading through my body once when I was on my 10-day Vipassana meditation retreat. I guess these are the endorphins people talk about....

I was so into the running that by the time I checked my gizmo, I was close to the 9 mile mark. How did that happen? My legs weren't hurting, my lungs weren't hurting, everything felt very different to the previous week, particularly at distance. The last 3 miles were great and I listened carefully to what my body was telling me it wanted. Some lucozade as soon as I'd finished and a soak in the bath. I decided that it was time for a little bit of pampering - I'm asking so much of my body with all this running that I do need to give it a bit of tlc. I put some of the Arbonne re-mineralising bath soak in the water and then used 3 different scrubs (face, body and feet) for additional pampering. I don't normally like baths, well I do but I end up getting too hot and having to stand up to cool down again but not this time. The hot water heated up my muscles and it was just what I wanted. I was anticipating the big tired feeling after this but you know what, it never came. In fact I felt positively energised!

Post-run I had a think about why this one had felt so good. Not running so much in the week made a big difference. I've been following my training plan religiously but perhaps wasn't giving my body the rest it needed. A couple of days without running does work wonders. I know I can run the distance (even if I don't do it before the big day) - now it's all about finding out the things that help make it a great experience! I started doing some yoga every morning, maybe about 10 minutes of sun salutations A and B. A great way to start the day and the extended stretching in my legs stopped the muscles from contracting as soon as I finished my long run. The yoga also helped to build upper arm strength which meant my arms didn't ache while I was running. I also made sure I had pasta and bread the night before, increasing my carb intake and this clearly helped with my energy levels. It's been interesting learning these things as I go along, seeing how a run goes and then making changes - there is something to be said for tracking your progress, no matter what you do!

Just over two weeks to go. The focus has to be on fund raising now - my minimum target was £225 and I've reached that but the goal I've set for myself is £1000. And you know something, if I can get myself up to running a Half Marathon, I can certainly raise at least £1000 for Pass It On Africa!

Brighton Half Marathon - 9 miles, 10 miles, 11 miles....

2012-01-21T13:26:00.000-08:00

Brighton Half Marathon - 29 days to go!

Although this is supposed to function as my online running diary, sadly I haven't written for the last three weeks. I have run though so at least I'm doing the important things! 4 weeks away from race day and I promise I will write more regularly. Since my last post, my running has progressed from 9 miles to 10 miles to 11 - each has been quite different so let me tell you about it.

9 miles - where I hit Runner's Wall

The week after my 8-mile run, I was feeling very off-kilter. I put it down to a very close friend moving overseas and me being more upset than I thought I would be. Either that or I was channeling her stress (and she had been very stressed) after the move, hence feeling absolutely dreadful. It's usually me who does the "going off on adventures" and this was the first time that someone so close to me emigrated (to Paris). Well my friend Simone did move to the UAE a few years ago but I was living in Ibiza at the time so I wasn't so affected. I digress, I'm meant to be talking about running. So, in the days leading up to my 9-mile run, I wasn't really feeling it. Training had been going so well, I would look at my training schedule, see the distance I had to run and go and do it. Simple. Not with 9-miles. I was apprehensive in the days leading up to it. I felt tired and the last thing I wanted to really do was run. The 9-mile day came and I got up and ready somewhat reluctantly and off I went.

As this was the first Saturday in January, I noticed something - lots and lots of people out running (you should have seen how many were out and about on the 2nd January!). Good old new year's resolutions - let's see how many are still running by the end of January - apparently (according to Tony Robbins) - 50% of people have given up their resolutions by the 15th January - very poor! This meant that the place where I normally run, a place where there are hardly any people was suddenly quite busy. I realised I don't really like running in busy places (not quite sure how I'm going to cope doing the Half with all those other runners but I'm sure the excitement will take care of that). I started and it felt more difficult than normal. There used to be a point where the first twenty minutes of a run would be quite uncomfortable, it felt as if my legs and lungs needed that much time to realise what I was asking of them. More recently, I'd noticed it hadn't been such a struggle - until now. I kept running but the thought most prominent in my head was "when can I stop?". I got up to 6 miles and called it a day, feeling quite disappointed. It's the start of a new year, there's all the excitement of how this year's going to be - and then I find myself unable to do something which a week or two ago would have been possible.

As soon as I got home, I sent a text to James, Pass It On Africa charity manager and official running coach, in a slight panic. Our exchange went like this:

Me - Help! I think I've hit runner's wall. Or runner's block or whatever it's called. Meant to do a 9-mile run and only managed 6! What do I do (can you detect a slight sense of panic here?)

J - Don't panic it happens to us all and we can talk about it on Tuesday (he was coming up to London for meetings and a work morning with me)

Me - Ok. Anything I can do in the mean time? Should I try again tomorrow?

J - Yes don't worry about it, have the weekend off and we can go for a run and talk about it on Monday evening or Tuesday.

Me - Ok cool!

J - No worries, have a good weekend and don't worry. You have loads of time and you are going to be great, trust me.

Me - Thanks!

After this exchange I felt a little better and did as I was told, took the weekend off and went on a 4-mile run on the Tuesday with James. We ran the course that people will be running at the HEROES RUN in April - it was quite exciting to see what the space looks like, will be even more exciting to see it full of people dressed as superheroes, running for a great cause and having a fun day out!

10 miles - where the power of Facebook made all the difference!

The week after my initial 9 mile attempt I decided to do it again. I was a week behind in my training but I'd still have enough time to get up to half marathon distance - so long as I nailed 9 miles this time. I really psyched myself up for this one. I decided to run somewhere completely different (Dulwich Park) and to listen to completely new music, to change it up as much as I could. I also wanted to run in Dulwich Park as I can measure distance. I know that once round the main track is a mile and I had this new gadget that measures the distance you run - I needed to check it to make sure it was working properly.

The evening before the run, my status update on Facebook said "9 mile run tomorrow morning *I can do it, I can do it, I can do it!* I was amazed at the supportive response from people - it makes all the difference! This is a tactic I've used before when I started my interiors business - by publicly declaring what you intend to do, somehow you make it happen! Or maybe you know you don't want to let down the people who've shown support so you make yourself do it. Clever tactics - they work. When I woke the morning of the run, I knew I had to run the distance. There'd been more messages in the night so I woke to words of encouragement. I set off to Dulwich Park, feeling much more confident. The weather was perfect, cold, crisp and sunny - ideal running conditions for me. I did one lap of the park and checked my gadget - 1 mile exactly. I knew that was working properly, it was a case of running now. I settled into a comfortable pace, listening to classic house tracks on my iPod.

Dulwich Park isn't my perfect choice as a place to run. I find it a little claustrophobic, you're constantly dodging runners, people and dogs. Lots of dogs, usually getting in the way. I decided not to pay attention to the things I don't like about running there in case it put me off. Head down, I ran and listened to House. I thought about all the people who'd left Facebook messages for me and felt that I was doing this run for them. I started off counting laps so I'd have an idea of distance. By 4 miles, I was so distracted by the music I was listening to, I forgot to count laps, just enjoying tunes that I love but hadn't heard in a while. Some of these songs are really inspiring, they make you keep going just when you start to flag a little. I've always believed in the power of music - here I was seeing it in action when running. If a song came on that was one of my favourites or had particularly inspiring lyrics (usually inspiring you to go higher, reach further etc), I literally did pick the pace up and feel amazing for it. I was so lost in music that I forgot to count laps. I decided to check my gadget at the point where I thought I'd done 5 miles - only to discover that I was at 7 miles. I was feeling good, I'd run further than I thought and I was only 2 miles away from 9 miles. And when things are going this well, what do you do? You run an extra mile of course and make it up to 10 miles.

So that's what I did, ran 10 miles. I felt very pleased - this was the distance I was meant to run according to my original plan, the one that didn't factor in hitting runner's wall at 9 miles. I felt good, in fact I felt positively ecstatic, especially as I'd got back on track with my training plan. When I announced to my proud parents that I'd just run 10 miles, my dad decided that he'd like to take up running too! Ace - he's 83 years old and wants to start running at this stage in life. It was a good feeling telling people that I'd done it! Using Facebook was great. I had two friends want to sponsor me, one offered to be a running partner and the other wanted to know how he could get involved with fundraising for Pass It On Africa. Fantastic! A few hours after the run, I did feel incredibly tired and had to take an afternoon nap for a couple of hours but apart from that, I generally felt really good!

11 miles - where I realised I need to stretch more

With training back on schedule, I did an 11 mile run today. Generally it went well. I had no idea how many people are in Dulwich Park on a Saturday running around or doing British Military Fitness classes - perfect people to promote our HEROES RUN to. I can see that I'll probably be spending a lot of time over the next two months dressed as my Cat Woman alter-ego promoting our race all across London!

After last week's success using Facebook for support and encouragement, I toyed with doing it again but decided this time just to get out there and run. It went well. There were times early on when I needed to give myself a pep talk but there comes a point where you think "I've run 6 miles, if I stop now the next time I go to do this distance, I've got to start all over again, these 6 miles count for nothing...". That realisation makes you keep going. As soon as I was over the halfway mark, I counted down how many laps I needed to do. There was also a fun run going on in the park for the second part of my run. Even though I was running in the opposite direction to their runners, every time I went past their tent and supporters, I took all their whoops and hollering for myself - I'm sure they didn't mind! The last couple of miles I really felt it in my legs. I kept going but as soon as I'd done 11 miles and stopped, I could feel my muscles contract and get really tight. The usual stretching I do didn't make that much of a difference and I longed to soak my legs in a hot bath. My muscles felt really tight all day, I walked stiffly and it made me realise that I need to get back to doing ashtanga yoga at least twice a week, just so my muscles can get a good stretch and stop them contracting in this way.

Enormous tiredness hit me again a couple of hours after the run. I know that between now and the race I have to pay close attention to what I'm eating. I'm not eating enough carbs (or the right carbs) or protein or drinking enough water so that has to change. I'm so close to the distance I need to run, I'm not panicking about the race ahead of me. This is good, it means I can focus on things like my diet and also the fundraising side of things. I'd set up my online fundraising page at the end of December but it was only this week that I filled it out properly, with my story, and made a point of promoting it as much as possible. I've found the traditional sponsorship form a really effective way of raising money - if you put a form in front of someone and ask "will you sponsor me?" - generally the answer is yes. I even had someone sponsor me £50 the other day which I was very excited about, a few more donations like that would be amazing! I also did an interview yesterday for a Sussex-based publication, talking about my half marathon story. I talked about my intention to raise £1000 for the charity - a little more incentive, now that it's going to be declared publicly, pushes you on to make sure you achieve it!

Something else I discovered this week - I really enjoying running in the evening after a day spent in front of the computer. I was meant to do a run on Wednesday morning before I went to work. Just as I was about to set out, I got a work call which I had to take. Once that was finished, running time had gone and I had to go straight to work. When this happens, it can be tempting to forget that run particularly as I knew that I wouldn't be able to run in the day. When I finished work at 6, I was feeling fairly knackered - normal for me if I've spent the day in front of a computer screen. However I decided not to miss my run, as soon as I got in I changed and went straight out again. As it was dark, I'd have to make do with running round the local Dulwich roads. I set off on a 4 mile run and found that I really enjoyed running at that time of the evening. Fewer people around (mainly other runners), easy to zone out into your own little world and I came back feeling positively energised!

Music I've been running to - I'd been of running to the same music over and over so I decided to change that last week. Since then I've been running to The Specials (ska is good to run to) and lots of early House classics. Some songs on my playlist have been:

That's The Way Love Is - Ten City

Where Love Lives - Alison Limerick

Promised Land - Joe Smooth

Tears - Frankie Knuckles

Follow Me - Aly-Us

Let Me Love You For Tonight - Kariya

Reachin' - Phase Two

You've Got The Love - The Source Featuring Candi Staton

Lift Every Voice - Mass Order

Someday - Ce Ce Rogers

Optimistic - Sounds of Blackness

The Masterplan - Diana Brown and Barrie K Sharpe

Got To Have Your Love - Mantronix

All This Love That I'm Giving - Gwen McCrae

Let No Man Put Asunder - First Choice

We Lift Our Hands In The Sanctuary - DJ Oji and Una

Believe - Soldiers of Twilight

Brighton Half Marathon - only 51 days to go...

2011-12-30T13:59:00.000-08:00

Shocking - it's been over six months since I last posted. Well a lot's happened in that time - mainly that I was quite ill in July, August and September and October onwards has been all about getting better again. I now feel pretty fabulous and while it was horrible being ill, I think we've finally got those pesky wonky hormones under control!

Not much happened while I was ill - it's as if life shut down for three months. I stopped doing any sort of exercise and my daily challenges which got mentioned so much in my posts this year, they also fizzled out. But I'd really felt the benefits of both regular (daily) exercise and my daily good habits so I was determined to get back into a good routine again. It also plays a big part in me getting better and staying well so fairly essential. Anyway back in October, a friend posted on Facebook saying that she had signed up to do the Brighton Half Marathon in February 2012. As soon as I saw that, I thought "I want to do that too!" - even though I hadn't run for over 4 months and it would be like starting from scratch again. I remembered that the charity that organised the HEROES RUN in Brighton (the 10K race I'd done with a couple of friends in May) had places for the Brighton Half so the next morning I called Pass It On Africa and spoke to co-founder and Charity Manager James Macdonald. Luckily they had some places left so I put my name down and then had quite a long chat with James, saying how much I'd enjoyed the HEROES RUN and how I'd been really impressed with the work they were doing to raise funds to build schools in Africa. One of the things I'd really liked was that they kept admin costs down to a minimum so 70-80% of fundraising goes directly to the projects.

I mentioned some of my previous International Relations experience and the conversation ended with me offering to email my CV over to see if there was any way I could help the charity on a pro-bono basis. It's something I'd been wanting to do for a while and it felt as if the right charity appeared just when I was ready to take something on. I'm now an integral part of the team, working closely with the Chairman and the two co-founders and getting ready to bring the HEROES RUN to London for the first time ever! It'll be taking place on Sunday 1st April 2012 on Clapham Common and if you fancy donning a Super Hero outfit and running 5 or 10K for an incredible cause, click here to sign up.

Anyway, back to the title of this post - the Brighton Half Marathon - only 51 days to go... I know that because I set up my Virgin Giving page for sponsorship and the page kindly told me I had 51 days until the big event. Luckily I have been training fairly seriously for the last 4-5 weeks, otherwise knowing I had 51 days only might have put the fear into me. I wanted to start blogging again, in a somewhat regular fashion, and I thought doing a weekly Half Marathon diary might help. I have to say I've impressed myself with the discipline I've shown towards training (I even ran on Christmas Day in Cambridge) - I'm now running 4 times a week and adverse weather conditions have yet to deter me! The only reason I'm impressed is that discipline like this has never been one of my strong points. However I'm determined to do the race well and I know the only way I can do that is to train properly so I KNOW I can run the distance before I do the race. While I'm happy to wing some things, this is not one of those. Plus working so closely with the charity now adds an extra bit of grit and resolve to my running.

I also have no idea how I'll find the extra distance. I know that I can run 10k but anything beyond that and it's all new to me. I have no idea how my body will react or how I'll feel but that's one of the main reasons that I want to capture it here, as close to real time as possible. I like doing something where I have no idea how it's going to be and charting my progress as I go along. I've found running longer distances easier - once I get beyond 4 miles, it feels so much easier and I feel like I can float on for ages. I'm keeping a close watch on my feet - I have problematic feet and have had since I was a child. The only time I've stayed in hospital was for an operation on both my feet when I was 11. I have this weird bone that grows out of the side of both feet (on the inside), just above where your arches are. As a child it used to cause me untold pain and made both walking and running difficult. The operation was meant to get rid of the extra bone but over the years, its grown back again. Often when I'm running, I'll get a twinge on my left foot but it's never been so bad that it's stopped me so fingers crossed that's the extent of my foot concerns.

In the last two weeks, my long runs have covered 6 miles, 7 miles and 8 miles today. Well those are the distances I'm supposed to have run - I've got a little monitor that checks the distance, just need to set it up properly and I'm good to go. The 6-mile run was great. I was meant to do it on a Friday and whenever I looked out of the window, it was either pouring with rain, hail or snow. I left the run til the next morning and stepped out in sunshine and blue skies. Before I started training properly, I was a bit concerned as to how I'd find running in the winter but the weather has generally been glorious and I've found myself running on cold crisp days with a bright blue sky and sunshine - my ideal kind of running weather. Anyway I set off on my run and half-way through, the heavens opened and the rain came. I kept running. I knew that if I stopped now, that would set the precedent for the future - little bit of bad weather and I call it a day. I ran through the rain and just kept going and then the rain stopped. I was so elated by my lack of wussy behaviour I ran an extra mile!

The 7-mile run the following week was not quite so successful. In fact it's probably been my most difficult run yet. I'd been out the night before and eaten a large 3-course meal which really didn't help matters. I think I was also quite dehydrated. I was too hot very quickly and by the time I got to the Rye where I normally run, I was peeling off extra layers and my scarf. As I haven't got myself a suitable running bag yet, all these layers were tied around my waist and it was only a matter of time before they were falling off and tripping me up. In the end, I hid them all on a park bench and kept my fingers crossed that my little bundle of clothes wouldn't be discovered by anyone who might want them. I'm not sure who would want sweaty running clothes though... The run was further disturbed by needing the toilet - and having to wait until the local cafe opened so I could sneak in. Actually they're very good and always let me use the facilities when it's obvious I'm not a customer. I found the last bit of the running hard too. My hamstrings were starting to feel really tight and ache and that's never happened before - a sign that I need to get back into my ashtanga yoga practice to help with stretching - and stop my calves getting too bulky! They have expanded a little already...

Today's 8-mile run was good. Perfect running weather conditions for me and only had to stop once - again for a toilet break (need to sort that out). One thing I did find though, as this is the week between Christmas and New Year, I have switched off from work completely. Normally when I run, I've got work-related stuff going through my head which helps to distract me from the running, as does the music. My head was very empty of work stuff (so happy I can do that) which should have made for a Zen-like running experience - instead I was too aware of the fact that my right foot was hurting slightly and I had a little blister by the time I got home. Apart from that, all good!

Music I've been running to - I've always been a massive music lover and I think the tunes I listen to between now and the Half Marathon are going to be key, particularly when I do my long runs and increase the distance each week. When I was training for the 10k, the last couple of long runs I did (5 miles and 6 miles), I played Sounds of Blackness "Optimistic" over and over again - it kept me going! Michael Jackson's "Thriller" has been great on some of the shorter runs, anything between 3 - 5 miles. Norman Jay's "Good Times Volume 1 (side 2)" has also played a major part in keeping me going. And today I did my 8 mile run to Arcade Fire, starting with "Funeral" and then on to "Neon Bible". I need to think carefully about music selection and put together a 2-hour playlist (or choose some of my favourite songs and have them on repeat 3 or 4 times - I like to hear them over and over again!) - this is what will help to get me there!

My 30-day challenge - Take 2

2011-06-19T14:23:00.000-07:00

How strange. After my last post about my 30-day challenge (when I'd got to Day 17), something happened and it all fell to bits. Literally the next day. I managed to keep up with things that day but by the following day, nothing was happening and I felt awful. My challenge went from being something I'd been finding really quite effortless (it was just a case of being organised and a bit of forward-thinking/planning) to something that felt like a very steep thing to climb. For no apparent reason that I could find...

I'd felt so amazing the first two weeks that I was expecting the last two weeks to be even better. Yet that was not the case. I thought that perhaps my wonky hormones had returned but not only were they still wonky, they were now back-to-front. Such confusion.

So I'm starting the challenge again from tomorrow. To see what it involves, click here. When I've finished this post, I'll get my little chart ready, tape it to the kitchen cabinet and off we go again. I have to admit, I do feel a little apprehensive about how I'll get on but I guess I just need to do it and keep going no matter what! The 30-day Challenge is exactly the same as before but I'm going to add in some daily exercise and see how I get on. I was doing this at the start of the year - I have no idea how I was getting up at 6 most mornings in January so I could go for an early-morning swim but it did happen! The main difference now is that I've been running a lot more these past few months (and in January I was lucky if I could run for 1 minute without needing to stop and walk for a bit) so running doesn't feel like such a chore, in fact at times I really enjoy it! And I've always loved swimming (and my Saturday-morning yoga) so the exercise part should be cool.

There seems to be something about getting past the 3-week mark. When I first did this in January, I got up to 3 weeks okay but then it fizzled out in the last week. It seems to have happened again. I wasn't expecting it to so I know to pay close attention once I'm half-way through. Other things I've noticed. My sleep quality has deteriorated in the past week. It takes me a lot longer to get to sleep and I don't feel quite so rested even if I've slept for a long time. I have absolutely no desire for dairy. I keep trying to tempt myself with some lovely ice cream but then I just think "meh no just don't feel like having it". I've even managed to resist the absolutely amazing home-made mint choc chip ice cream at The Palmerston. Normally I try and sneak a scoop or two at least once a week if I know any is in the freezer. A batch was made about a week ago and I've yet to taste it, I just don't feel like having it. And whenever I've had my beloved Galaxy chocolate (yes 3 bars have been consumed in the last month), I've not actually enjoyed it that much. I don't think I'm off chocolate so much as my taste buds becoming sharper, I think you can tell when you're eating something that perhaps doesn't have the best ingredients. Just need to find myself some superior quality chocolate to have from time to time! So even though my 30-day challenge didn't quite make it, there's still a lasting impact being made on my taste buds.

Wish me luck - my challenge starts tomorrow!

My 30-day challenge - Day 17

2011-06-08T05:57:00.000-07:00

So more than half way through and the "challenge" has been going well. I think it's the combination of wrapping it all up as a "challenge" and the fact that I've been trying to get into these good habits since the start of the year and at this fourth or fifth attempt, it feels easier as I've had quite a bit of practice. Also, I was expecting to introduce all these new habits and just be able to do it straight away immediately but then I was reminded of the fact that I'm rarely good at things when I first start and get better and better because I keep trying and don't give up.

I've had day after day after day where I've been able to do all the things on my list. I've just checked my chart and I had a run of 6 days where I did everything - pretty good going for me. The chart is essential and something I'll keep doing forever, particularly as daily discipline is not one of my strong points. The chart has enabled me to get back on track when I've missed doing something and it shows me the things that are most likely to be missed (daily toning exercises). I've realised that although I have to work on daily discipline, I feel good for doing it and I also get the most out of my day - I need structure, organisation and forward-planning to get things done.

Anyone who knows me well will probably know that I've been struggling with wonky hormones and low energy levels for years now. They've never stood in the way of me doing things but I longed for more energy and not to feel so up and down all the time. At their worst, the hormones had me feeling like some Jekyll and Hyde character, up for two weeks, down for two weeks. They're not so bad now thanks to seeing a kinesiologist and identifying the plethora of reasons why they were so bad but there is still a distinct rhythm to my life. I've felt great the last couple of weeks (and they were "down" weeks) and it makes it obvious that what I eat does make a huge impact on how I feel. I can eat rubbish and not put any weight on but it affects my moods enormously and I've only come to realise that in the past few months.

I'm not sure the impact on my energy levels as I've yet to wake up and jump out of bed, bouncing with energy. The only time I really feel like that it's due to adrenaline, I'll wake up at around 4 or 5 and be buzzing with excitement, unable to get back to sleep. As there are some exciting changes just round the corner for me regarding work I know that the adrenaline will soon be back but that's not quite the same as bouncing out of bed with energy. However maybe I'm just not that kind of person - I like to start my morning in a calm, quiet way and prefer no noise or talking for at least the first 30 minutes. Although I aspire to bounce out of bed, raring to go I'm not sure I'd actually like myself if I was like that as I'd be too noisy and energetic for myself!

I have noticed a change in my sleep quality though. The only way I can describe it is that my sleep feels very sweet. It's been blissful and I do wake up refreshed. I am less likely to wake up in the night and I'm not so affected by noise or light. Maybe I'm sleeping deeper too. I've started doing my 20 minutes of meditation just before I go to sleep so I'll do it sat upright in bed. It consists of taking deep breaths in, holding and letting them out again. I make sure that my lungs fill up completely and then exhale fully. I have a little timer next to me and as soon as 20 minutes are up, I'll switch the timer and bedside lamp off and slide down into the bed, turn over and I'm asleep in about 3 seconds. This is brilliant as I had noticed that I was finding it quite difficult to get to sleep recently. It could take half an hour or more to nod off and the longer it took, the more frustrated I'd feel. All change now...

The other thing I've noticed is that my digestive system is working well through the night (which is what it's meant to do). However we put so much into our bodies that we find difficult to digest or use up excessive energy trying to do so. I have to admit, I am slightly obsessed with bowel movements (if you're not comfortable with this kind of topic, don't read this paragraph). I could go for days without having one or even worse, you can feel it there but it just isn't coming out. I would drink coffee or tea for the specific reason of clearing out my insides but longed for my insides to work properly so I wouldn't have to resort to there kinds of tactics to make me go. I think as I'm quite small in frame, having a few days worth of poo stuck in my system would just make me feel horribly uncomfortable and would always feel a bit disappointed if only a small one came out. On the other hand, a big poo where you feel everything has come out makes me actually feel quite euphoric! Since day 5, my digestive system has got into a regular rhythm and soon after I wake, it's time to go. I feel like everything is coming out without much effort from me and that sensation of "all backed up but nothing coming out" has pretty much disappeared. At times I've not even felt anything until it's time to go.

I think a number of things are responsible. Cutting out things from my diet that I find difficult to digest or just aren't good for me obviously helps. I'm probably having about 10 portions of fruit, veg or salad a day so lots more fibre coming my way. Drinking 2L of water a day definitely helps and keeps everything hydrated and working well. But I think the main thing is the flaxseed. I have a large tablespoon mixed in with a fresh vegetable juice and it is working wonders. I missed my juice and flax seed on Monday for a number of reasons and it's thrown my digestive system out again and I'm now just waiting for it to get back into it's rhythm again.

All in all my challenge is going well. I've seen a number of positive results already and I feel more tuned in to what my body needs or wants. I'm sure that whenever I've eaten junk food my body has responded by making me feel like rubbish but I've always put that down to wonky hormones when actually other things were the culprit! I know that when the 30-days are over, another 30-day challenge of all the same things will start again as this is less a one-off thing, more a way of living a healthier way.

My 30-day challenge

2011-05-24T14:16:00.000-07:00

I've just set myself a 30-day challenge to get into some good habits and I thought I'd write about it as it may help me to stick to what I've set out to do. I think the word "challenge" has got something to do with it - give me something to work towards or something to achieve and I do it. Doing just for the sake of doing never seems to work for me.

I've realised this recently. When I wrote my post about the psychology of running and how I felt like I could run beyond 5k for the first time ever, not only did I write about it, I also told anyone who would listen. When I told my friend Nikki she said "want to do a 10k race in the middle of May then?" It was four weeks away and although I felt like I could run beyond 5k, I hadn't actually done it. But I agreed to the race, it sounded like fun as we had to dress up as Super Heroes and it meant a day down in Brighton raising money to help build schools in Africa via a wonderful grassroots charity called Passing It On. Once I'd agreed to do the race I told a few people because if I know I say to others I'm going to do something, that's what will happen.

A couple of days after agreeing to do the run, I got up early to start training. I felt awful and didn't want to get out of bed but I thought I was just being wimpy so I hauled myself out, got ready and went down to Peckham Rye and did a 40-minute run. I didn't have quite the same euphoria as I'd had the day I'd written my running post but I ran for the time without stopping and it was the first time I'd run beyond half an hour. Afterwards I went to work and as the day progressed, I felt worse and worse. I had been coming down with some sort of sneezy/coldy/flu thing and that's why I'd felt dreadful when I'd woken up but I thought I was just trying to get out of running and stay in bed a bit longer and so I'd forced myself. When the illness fully took hold I couldn't run at all and lost about 10 days in my training schedule. The thought did cross my mind about not doing the race as I wasn't sure I could get up to 10k in the time now but I decided that I had said I would do it and I would be my word and just get on with it. I also set two other criteria for myself - I wanted to run the whole race (no walking for me then but Super Heroes don't walk!) and I wanted to complete it in an hour. I carried on running, working my way up to running for 50 minutes and then an hour. We did the race last weekend, it was great fun and I ran the whole 10k, finishing a few minutes after an hour so very pleased with myself. We've now said we're going to do a half marathon in the autumn. I also realised that I'd got up to running 10k a lot quicker than if I'd been just working my way up to it without any kind of goal or challenge to work towards and that's why I've set myself this 30-day challenge.

The things I have to do or not do for the next 30 days are things I've been trying to get into the habit of doing on and off since the start of the year. They aren't difficult, they don't take up much time and can easily be incorporated into your daily routine and they are all things that are good for me and will help sort out my energy levels amongst other things. However I've realised that daily disciplines just don't seem to be my thing. I can take a massive leap of faith and do things that would send most people scurrying away in alarm but doing little things consistently, day in, day out, well this kind of discipline is something that is new to me and I'm learning now. I realised that one of the reasons that my good intentions drift away after a few days is that I had no way of charting progress or any system that would bring me back on track if I missed out on something for a day or two. I've lost count of the number of times I've tried to get into the habit of drinking 2 litres of water a day. I'd do it for a few days, maybe a week or two and then something would happen and I'd forget to drink any water or I'd be out all day without my 2L with me. One day would turn into two days and before I knew it, I wouldn't be drinking any water at all, sometimes for a few days at a time. This is just one example but there are many similar ones. And why is it so easy to get into the habit of doing bad things every day so easily? I could drink a can of coke every day even though I know it's not good for me and the sugar will make my teeth fall out and surges of sugar make me very up and down. I always thought it was wonky hormones that caused this but I wouldn't be surprised if it was actually coca cola!

To help myself I've started using charts this year where I can tick off things as I do them on a daily basis and to remind me of the things still outstanding. Interesting tactics but they work for me to some extent and I need some kind of record as my list of things to do or not do currently stands at 19 things a day and I need some sort of chart just to remember if I've done something or not. Even with my chart I could be a bit haphazard with sticking to what I was meant to be doing. But with no chart at all I noticed I slipped quickly and easily into old bad habits so the chart is back and it's here to stay. Doing the 10k race made me realise that I can do things beyond what I thought if I feel like there's some sort of challenge or I'm working towards something. Even publicly declaring my intention to do something makes it easier for me to stick to my word as I've never been one of those people who talks a lot but does little. I tend to say what I'm going to do and then do it.

Here are the daily things in my 30-day challenge (they are in the order that they happen from morning to night)

Hot water and lemon
3 sun salutations A and B
Dry brushing
Flax seed
Fresh juice
Daily yoghurt
Toning exercises
Supplements
2L water
No coffee/caffeine
No dairy (but I can have goats or sheep products)
No sugar
No wheat
No fizzy drinks
No junk food
No peanuts
No alcohol
Meditation
Night-time routine

All the things I'm not supposed to have are things recommended to me by the kinesiologist last year. When I was first told to give these things up as much as possible, I practically cried. All I could think about was how difficult it would be to give things up. But this year although I haven't followed all my points all the time, I have had periods of time where I've been very good (longest period being 3 weeks) and my shopping habits and taste buds have changed vastly, so much so I don't even miss the things I thought I couldn't live without. I haven't bought butter once this year. I never thought that day would come as I love butter. As a child I would cut the corner off a block of Anchor butter and pop it into my mouth and happily wait for it to dissolve. Now I do without and I don't seem to miss it. Cutting out dairy has not been as difficult as I imagined. I've switched to rice milk for porridge, have goat's yoghurt instead of Greek yoghurt and have fun discovering all the different goats and ewe's cheeses that are available. The one thing I won't give up even when I'm being very good is ice cream but even then I find that I don't actually want it that often and when I do, I can't eat that much.

So, over time it's gotten easier to give things up but getting into a daily routine is the area where I really struggle. None of the things I'm supposed to do or not do make any immediate impact on me. I don't have allergies to the foods I'm not supposed to have, they don't make me ill but they do affect my energy levels. I read a book recently "The Slight Edge" by Jeff Olsen and it really resonated with me. It talked about the importance of doing little things every day and how difficult it can be to do them as it doesn't make any difference on your life today if you do them or you don't to them. They're easy to do and they're easy not to do. But these little things over time do add up to big things and you want the little things you do every day to be good things, not bad things. I have to admit, the book did scare me a little as I know I'm nowhere near good as I should be. I can eat badly and get away with it as I don't really put on weight but a bad diet affects my mood enormously and I do need to pay attention to this. As daily discipline doesn't seem to be my thing, I've had to wrap it up in something I do understand - a challenge and see how I get on with that. I'll come back and write up my progress, ideally on a weekly basis. It'll be good to capture how I'm getting on and more importantly how I'm feeling as I think that will all help to keep me on track.

Progress so far as today is the end of day 2. So far so good. I've got a long line of ticks on my chart for yesterday and today. More of the same tomorrow then!

The Power of a few words of encouragement and belief...

2011-05-20T13:00:00.000-07:00

...they can literally change a life.

In my late teens the thought that dominated my mind was how I was going to live a live completely different to the one I was supposed to live. Coming from a traditional Pakistani Muslim family, the life earmarked for me was a little like this - be a good, dutiful daughter, have an arranged marriage to someone chosen by my parents, be a good dutiful wife and mother - the end. I would have lived in the family home until I got married and then I would have gone to live with my husband or his family. In the run-up to the wedding I might have been able to spend a bit of time getting to know my future husband but it wouldn't have been the same as going out with someone as we know it here. I could be nothing less than a virgin on my wedding night. At quite a young age I'd decided I didn't want this kind of life, it didn't sound like much fun and I had a morbid fear of being forced into an arranged marriage. I didn't know how to change things but I knew there had to be a way and I was determined to find it. As I possessed the number one and number two top requirements for an arranged marriage (British passport and pale skin), I avoided going to Pakistan between the age of 11 and 18, coming up with one excuse after another. I refused to go into the kitchen with my mum and learn how to cook traditional food as I thought if I couldn't cook Pakistani food for my husband and his family, I wouldn't be such a great prospect. That was my strategy until I found another way.

In Pakistani culture, independence is not encouraged amongst girls. The family, including the extended family or the in-laws, can dictate how you live your life. I'd experienced this once already when I was 14 or 15. I was horse-mad as a teenager and worked at the local riding school from the age of 12. Holidays were spent at the riding school and one summer one of my aunts was visiting with her family. She thoroughly disapproved of the amount of time I spent away from the home and on her return to Pakistan, she complained to my grandmother. A very stern letter was written to my dad telling him he had to tell me to stop riding and he did just that. He couldn't explain why I had to stop riding but that's what I had to do. I refused and so he responded by saying that he wasn't going to pay for my riding lessons any more. "Fine I'll pay for them myself using my pocket money" I replied. He couldn't stop my pocket money as I hadn't done anything wrong so I carried on riding and working at the riding school, paying for my lessons out of my pocket money. This incident was a stark reminder of what the culture can be like and I really didn't want my whole life to be a series of incidents like that.

At the age of 16 I got a part-time job in the restaurant of a Dulwich Village pub. It was an accident getting the job - I'd gone there to see the former manageress of the riding school who was working there after leaving under mysterious circumstances. I crept in hoping no one from the Pakistani community would see me, a Muslim girl going into a pub - I came out with a job. I had to keep the exact location of my job a secret from the family as they would have been horrified that I was working in a place where alcohol was served (even though I was technically too young to serve alcohol) - however my dad knew all along exactly where I was working. He offered to give me a lift to work one Sunday morning and as we got into Dulwich Village, I kept saying "it's okay, you can drop me off here..." My dad kept on driving and pulled up right outside the pub. As I sat there alarmed, waiting for the tirade, all my dad said was "I know where you work, it's okay with me. But you know what the Pakistani community is like and how they talk so best not to tell anyone where you work" - at that point I realised my dad was on my side and has been ever since.

A few months after I started working there the management changed and Barbara and Graham came into my life. Larger than life and exuding glamour, they had both worked at Playboy before, Barbara as a Playboy Bunny and Graham as a croupier. On meeting them I was immediately petrified but we soon struck up a great working friendship. Barbara took me under her wing and taught me so much about the world of work, building excellent customer relations and running a good business. Under their guidance I flourished, which was just as well as academically things were not going so well and I messed up my A Levels and missed going to university. But a few weeks short of my 19th birthday, they said some words to me that would literally go on to change my life:

"You will achieve anything you set your mind to".

The reason for such a profound statement was that I'd just bought my first car and had proudly driven to work. When I'd passed my driving test my dad had said that he'd buy me a little car, just as he'd done for my older sister. However there was one problem, my dad wanted to get a Nissan and I wanted a Volkswagen Beetle. We're both stubborn and neither would budge and I resolved the situation by declaring that I would buy a Beetle myself, undeterred by the fact that I was earning £30 a week. I handed over my cheque book to Barbara and Graham (it was the days before cash cards) with strict instructions to lock it in the safe and not return it to me until I was ready to buy the car. I thought it would be quite cool to buy my first car at the age of 18

and for a year I worked and saved. A few weeks before my 19th birthday I'd saved enough and found a beautiful red VW Beetle and purchased my first car. Having witnessed the whole process, Barbara and Graham realised I had the ability to decide what I wanted and do what it took to make it happen, even though I was completely oblivious to what I'd just done. And those magical words "You will achieve anything you set your mind to" literally did change my life. I realised what it meant to have a dream (the car) and turn it into reality but more than that, I realised that if I was independent, if I succeeded with work, stood on my own two feet and paid my way, then maybe, just maybe I wouldn't get married off - it was a revelation! Barbara and Graham made me believe I would achieve anything I set my mind to even though I had failed my A levels and didn't think my life would amount to much. Their belief in me ignited a belief in myself so strong that I pelted through the next decade (the international years) doing lots, achieving lots, living life to the fullest. It certainly wasn't the life of a traditional Pakistani girl.

I've been enormously lucky as Barbara and Graham weren't the only ones to encourage me and believe in me. When I worked at Bell Pottinger Consultants, I affectionately referred to Stephen and Graham as my two wise men. When I was made redundant along with seven other Consultants, both asked to speak to me before I left. I had no idea what they were going to say and I was slightly stunned when they said pretty much the same thing:

" I have no idea what you're going to do but I know you will be successful. You can spot someone who has that quality and you have it. You're one of life's winners".

To hear these words from two highly accomplished gentlemen meant more than the redundancy package. Their words gave me hope at an otherwise distressing, traumatic time and they inspired me to look beyond just getting another job, to do something a little bold. My first idea was to move to South Africa and work there. I planned a three-week trip as soon as I left the Consultancy and flew to Johannesburg for a round of first interviews. I then spent two and a half weeks travelling across the country to Cape Town and finally flew back to Johannesburg for second interviews. As soon as I arrived in Johannesburg a gut feeling told me that South Africa wasn't the right move for me and although my second interviews went well, I decided against taking anything up and flew back to London. By going out to South Africa and exploring the opportunity and ultimately deciding it wasn't right for me, I've never had any regrets about it - I didn't just think about something I wanted to do, I went and explored the opportunity before deciding no.

Once back in London and with my wise men's words ringing in my ears, somehow I came up with the brave, bold or bonkers idea to set up an interiors business even though I had no training, experience or client base. I sincerely believe that it was Stephen and Graham's words of encouragement and belief that gave me the courage to look at what I really wanted to do and then go for it. I had absolutely no experience of setting up or running a business but I had this idea, this belief in my heart that refused to go away. After all my two wise men had said I would be successful so why not take a real leap of faith. Even now I'm amazed that I took this seed of an idea and made it happen, just put my head down and got on with it. From the start the point I focused on was the launch party, that was the place I was aiming to get to and I used to think about the party and how I wanted it to be from the very start. I even asked two friends Frank Tope and Tayo if they'd come and DJ at the launch party - this was probably a week after I'd had the idea and up til then they'd known me doing something international so here I was, talking about doing something completely different and having a launch party. I must have convinced them it was going to happen because they both said yes! To see how this little seed of an idea turned out click here

Ironically once I moved into interiors and embarked on the entrepreneurial life, I was approached to work on a couple of high-level International Relations projects - the Global Leadership Foundation and the British Ukrainian Society (both times my name had been recommended by Graham from Bell Pottinger). It was with these two projects that I finally felt a sense of real achievement and fulfilment in my "career" job. It was at the British Ukrainian Society that I had the pleasure of working with Richard Spring and I learnt so much from him, not only the joy of a team working in unison but also about not giving up, never giving up, going forwards, always going forwards and ultimately achieving results far greater than you'd ever imagined. If the people already mentioned had inspired me to take action, then Richard really inspired me to keep going when I found things difficult and challenging and I was ready to give up. He showed me what a leader is, someone who gets you to do more, achieve more, to keep going when you want to give up and go way beyond what you thought possible. It's amazing to look back when you've had these kind of experiences and see what you've achieved. And if I'd gone for another job after Bell Pottinger, done the normal or safe thing, I would never have been able to take on these projects but working for myself meant I could say yes to some incredible opportunities.

I've always been very aware of the people who have inspired me, believed in me, made me feel that anything was possible. I've been encouraged to discover what my potential could be and I've never forgotten how these people have been a catalyst to the life I've gone on to lead - at times very much a case of ordinary person, extraordinary life. Sometimes I look over my CV and think "you failed your A levels, missed out on university first time round and yet you've done all of this" - some amazing experiences, extraordinary opportunities and incredible friendships. My family obviously played a big part too as when you bring into the equation that I'm from a fairly traditional Pakistani Muslim family, the life I've led can be seen as quite different from the normal perspective but from the Pakistani perspective it does go off the scale somewhat. But my dad spoke some very wise words to me when I was at university. There was the chance to study in America as part of a student exchange, there was only one place available and I decided I wanted to go and I would be the best person for my university to send. When I spoke to my dad about this opportunity, he told me to go for it (or whatever his words would have been in Urdu). He said you had to take opportunities whenever they came along as they may never come again - so I listened to his wise words and just went for it, taking opportunities as they came and creating a few along the way.

I believe this is for everyone, an amazing life is out there for anyone, anyone who has a bit of drive and desire, takes responsibility for how their life turns out and has a positive frame of mind. Sometimes it just takes another person to have a bit of belief in them and to say "You can do it!" I know that a few words of support, encouragement and belief can literally change a life - that change could be tiny or it could be massive and I believe this should be for everyone, not just some lucky person like myself who happened to be around some life-changing people at various points in time. If I can do it, then anyone can do it - sometimes all it takes is a little nudge, a bit of belief or some positive support and words of encouragement. It's been given to me and it's time to give it back a hundred times over.

As I embark on the next bit of my adventure, putting together an Arbonne team and leading them to success, I know this is my way of giving a life-changing opportunity to everyone I know. Not everyone may want it but the least I can do is to share it and be generous with this gift. This is also my way of saying "thank you" to the people in my life who have believed in me, encouraged me and supported me along the way. In addition to the people mentioned here, I have my family and numerous friends who have done that for me - whenever I do one of my email updates, I always get some lovely words of support and encouragement and I believe that these kept me going at times when I hit a difficult patch. I feel so excited about the next chapter and it's good to feel like this again. I've had some time to rest and reflect and it's now time to move forwards again. I've had time to think about the life-changing impact that some people's words have had on me and I know that more than anything, I want to do that for others. If I can make a difference in one person's life, if I can instil in someone that sense of "you can achieve anything you set your mind to", if I can inspire someone to be the best they can be by sharing my stories, anecdotes and any other wisdom I've picked up along the way, then I know I'm doing something of value and that gives me a sense of purpose that fills me with excitement and joy!

On running....

2011-04-11T13:29:00.000-07:00

At the start of the year, I made the decision to be more healthy and see it through as opposed to letting it peter out a few weeks later. I've been learning about how I work best when trying to become more disciplined and learn a new routine and good habits. It's been fascinating - I never realised until a few months ago how easily I could create a new habit (like drinking 2L water a day) if I had a little chart and ticked off my progress on a day-to-day basis. Something we use with children all the time, never thought to use it for myself until I read about in a book last summer...

As well as eating well and drinking water and all that sort of stuff, I decided to start doing exercise on a daily basis. My two exercise loves are swimming and yoga but as I didn't want to do just those two every day I decided to start running again. I've never really had a running "high" like I've had with swimming or yoga. For me it's been something that has an element of convenience - I can do it anywhere, it doesn't require going somewhere special and it doesn't cost anything (apart from the initial outlay on a really good pair of running shoes and appropriate running clothes). But I never got anything out of it emotionally, just the knowledge that in some way it was doing me some good. That's until I started running on Peckham Rye. I don't know anything about the psychology of running but for some reason I find it easier to run on the wide open space of Peckham Rye than I do for the same time and distance around the horse-riding track in Dulwich Park. I would have thought it the other way but not so. I find it easier to zone out on Peckham Rye, surrounded on three sides by traffic - everyone going somewhere but no-one paying any attention to you. In Dulwich Park it's different. It feels smaller, more enclosed. Often you can only see a small part of the path you're going to be running on ahead of you but it feels more of a struggle. You're constantly aware of the people and children and dogs and bikes and runners around you, there are more distractions and you have to focus more.

The furthest I've ever run is 5k - for me that takes half an hour and is three times round Dulwich Park. Although I could build up to 5k without too much trouble, I've never felt like I could go beyond that. Until today. Although I may have made it sound like I've turned into this super-healthy fitness freak exercising every day, the actual reality is that although the intention is there, I think there's only been one week where I have actually exercised every day (and I felt absolutely amazing!). And as I've never felt any sense of joy running, it's there on my list but I have to force myself to do it. On Peckham Rye it all feels very different....

I started running there a few weeks ago. I woke fairly early one Monday morning and realising that it was a glorious sunny morning, I wanted to go for a run. Most times I force myself to go for a run so to actually want to do it was quite something. As it was about half past seven the park was still closed and I didn't want to miss this golden opportunity so I ran down to Peckham Rye and ran round once. And there was something about that wide open space that made it feel easier. The next time I ran I went back to the park but struggled with the same distance that I'd done quite easily on Peckham Rye. I've stopped running in the park now.

The last time I ran on Peckham Rye I ran for 20 minutes. This may not seem like a particularly long time for anyone who runs a lot but I'd been struggling with increasing my time running without stopping. In the park I couldn't even do a few minutes without stopping and walking round part of the track so to suddenly be able to find myself going for 10 minutes, 11 minutes, 15 minutes and then 20 minutes was something of an achievement. I ran today and decided to do 20 minutes again. My plan was to run 20 minutes a few times before trying to increase it to 25 minutes. But today as I got closer to my allocated time I felt like I could keep going. So I did. For another 10 minutes. Now the last time I ran for 30 minutes non-stop (which is about 3 miles or 5k for me) was two years ago. It felt good to run for that length of time again. And the best thing? I felt like I could have kept running a bit more. So that's what I'm going to do next time I run. Actually it was quite amazing to feel like I could have kept going. When I slowed down to a walk my legs did feel quite strange, as if they were full of air but that didn't last long and I didn't collapse.

So now I'm pondering the psychology of running. Is part of it finding the right kind of environment for you to run in? The thought of running on a treadmill in the gym fills me with dread but not every outdoors environment seems to work either. I never thought having that wide open space surrounded by London commuter traffic would work for me but in some strange way it does. I'm more aware of the nature around me - when I started running on the rye, the daffodils were just starting to bloom and today I noticed that they had come to their shrivelled demise but look up and some of the trees were ripe with thick pink blossom, the kind that reminds me of Japan. There are fewer restrictions with the rye as it's open and I can run at any time so long as there's enough light. As the mornings get light earlier, I can run at any time I want whereas with Dulwich Park the earliest time you can go in is 8, regardless of what time the sun rose and the birds started singing.

And now I want to go and run again and see how far I can go. There's something quite exciting about knowing you're going to do something that you'd always had a limit on but now you can go beyond. I know I can run more that 30 minutes and do that easily. What I don't know is how far I can run and that's what I'm going to find out. I've already started thinking about half-marathons....

31 reasons to do Arbonne

2010-10-16T00:41:00.000-07:00

Following on from my last post about my Arbonne "Why" changing, I've had a bit of fun coming up with 31 reasons to do Arbonne. If even one reason resonates with you, then it's time to get in touch and find out more about what could be an amazing, life-changing opportunity. The catalyst to change can sometimes be just one phone call or a chance encounter - and having the balls to do something about it!

So, here we go - my 31 reasons to do Arbonne:

1. You have children!

2. You still feel there is untapped or unfulfilled potential lurking inside of you - and it's time for it to come out!

3. You want to fire your boss and be your own boss.

4. You have friends living in far flung places and you want to have the finances, freedom and flexibility to visit them on a whim.

5. You feel the best is yet to come.

6. You work freelance doing something you love - but sometimes work can be sparse or creditors take their time to pay

7. You want to feel inspired and excited and in turn inspire others

8. You have a generous spirit and want to find a way to give generously to causes close to your heart - without relying on sponsorship or fund-raising

9. You wonder how you're ever going to get onto the property ladder or move "up" if you've bought on your own

10. You love your job, love everything about it - but could do with a pay rise!

11. You had the chance to go to university without worrying about incurring a great debt - you'd like your children to have the same chance - who wants to start their working life thousands of pounds in debt?

12. You want your dream life-style to actually be your life-style

13. You sometimes find yourself worrying about a pension (and your lack of one)

14. You dream of living a life split between two places (like London and Ibiza) but as you're not independently wealthy yet, you need to find something that gives you the freedom, finances and flexibility to do so

15. Your career demands you work long hours but frankly you'd rather spend more time with your family and friends

16. You'd love to work for yourself but the thought of going it alone is nerve-racking

17. You sometimes think "is this it?"

18. You're going to lose the child support and want to find a way to replace it

19. You want to work from home, part-time, in hours you choose AND earn a six-figure income but wonder if that's actually possible?

20. You're bored or feeling a bit stuck and wonder "what now?"

21. You want your children to know financial independence, not live in a world of debt (gift them an Arbonne business on their 18th birthday)

22. You gave up a successful career to raise a family but would like to put your talents, experience and expertise back into work (that's challenging, fulfilling and fits around family life)

23. You want a better work-life balance, not the constant stress of juggling too many things

24. You're fed up of commuting

25. You followed the traditional "school, university, career, mortgage, even bigger mortgage" path without really thinking if that's what you want to do - until now...

26. You believe life should be spent having fun with the people you most want to be around - including work!

27. It's time for a change....

28. You want to leave a legacy, a life full of love, excitement and adventure!

29. You'd love to travel more, work less

30. You'd love to play more, work less

31. You'd love to (insert word) more, work less

And finally I'm going to leave you with the very wise words of Harvey Mackay:

"If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it"

My Arbonne "Why" has changed dramatically....

2010-10-04T13:42:00.000-07:00

When you start an Arbonne business, one of the first things you do is define your "Why" for doing Arbonne. You have to answer the question "What is my dream?" and other questions such as "How much money do I want to make?", "Would I like to be in control of my financial future" and "What will I do with more time?"

For my "dream" I wrote the dream that I've harboured for so many years - to have my own family living in a lovely home full of love, laughter and happiness. I wanted to secure our financial future, the thought of being old and poor just didn't bear thinking about. It's recommended that your "Why" is big, really big, big enough to get you motivated and excited and give you the drive to set up and run a successful (Arbonne) business. I talked about my desire to live between London and Ibiza and the need to find something that offered the freedom, finances and flexibility to make that dream a possibility. At times I questioned having material goals as I'd never done that before, I've never been materialistic although I love beautiful things. The physical things I'd achieved like buying a flat had been the by-product of something much bigger going on inside of me, they had never been the be-all and end-all.

Apart from the family bit (forever elusive), my other goals were all about lifestyle and although yes, I do want a particular lifestyle (who doesn't?), what I found was that instead of being all fired up, I felt like I'd completely lost my drive and direction. A tad frustrating for someone like myself, used to achieving and being successful at whatever I turned my hand to. I could see that Arbonne is an amazing opportunity and I'm lucky enough to be part of the most successful team in the UK with the most fantastic products, training and support - but I just couldn't seem to make it work. Something was missing and that something had to be within me as it certainly wasn't lacking in the products, the network marketing business model and the team.

I kept hunting for whatever it was, kept talking about my desire to live between London and Ibiza and that's why I was doing Arbonne, kept not getting very far. But I've always believed in this opportunity, believed in Arbonne and now that I've got my head around network marketing, am completely committed to that too. But deep down inside I thought my Why was just about me, what I wanted and it all felt a little selfish.

Then a couple of weeks ago I went to a talk by Donna Johnson, an Executive National Vice President with Arbonne and the most successful woman in network marketing - in the world! I listened to her talking, sharing her Arbonne journey with us, the impact it had made on the lives of her family and the people around her. I came away feeling joyful and inspired - here was this incredibly successful businesswoman and yet she was so warm and friendly and approachable. She'd built a multi-million dollar business working part-time in hours that fitted around family life, not the other way around.

As I drove home I chatted excitedly with my friend about how brilliant it was to come across such an inspiring woman, someone who made you feel that anything was possible. It made me think back to the first proper (part-time) job I had and how the management team of Barbara and Graham made me believe I would achieve anything I set my mind to, eventhough I had miserably failed my A levels the previous year and didn't think my life would amount to much. Their words ignited a belief in myself so strong that I pelted through the next two decades achieving lots, doing lots, living life to the fullest - all because they believed in me. Graham passed away earlier this year and to see a full write-up as to how these two people changed my life forever click here

They weren't the only ones to believe in me though. When I worked at Bell Pottinger Consultants, I affectionately referred to Stephen and Graham as my two wise men. When I was made redundant along with 7 other Consultants, they both asked to speak to me before I left. I had no idea what they were going to say and I was slightly stunned when they both said pretty much the same thing - "I have no idea what you're going to do now but I know you will do very well. You can spot someone who has that quality and you have it. You're one of life's winners" - to hear these words from two highly accomplished, successful gentlemen meant more than the redundancy package. Their words gave me hope at an otherwise distressing, traumatic time and maybe it was their words ringing in my ears that helped to make the crazy decision to set up an interiors business even though I had no training, experience or client base. I didn't have just one person saying I would do well, I had two - so why not do something bonkers and risky because you'd do well anyway. If you'd like to see how the interiors business turned out, click here

Ironically once I moved into interiors, I was approached to work on a couple of high-level international relations projects - the Global Leadership Foundation and the British-Ukrainian Society (both times my name had been recommended by Graham) and it was with these two projects that I finally felt a sense of real achievement and fulfilment in my proper "career" job. It was at the British-Ukrainian Society that I had the pleasure of working with Richard Spring and I learnt so much from him, not only the joy of a team working in unison but also about not giving up, never giving up, going forwards, always going forwards and achieving results far greater than you'd ever imagined!

So as I drove home from the talk my thoughts turned to the important people in my world of work, people who had inspired me, believed in me, made me feel that anything was possible. Their belief ignited a self-belief so strong that nothing was going to stand in the way of me finding out exactly what my potential was. I have never forgotten how these people have been a catalyst to the life I've gone on to lead - sometimes I look over my CV and think "you failed your A levels, missed out on university first time round and yet you achieved all of this..." - it has very much been the case of an ordinary person living an extraordinary life.

I believe this is possible for everyone, an amazing life is out there anyone, anyone who has a bit of drive and desire, takes responsiblity for how their life turns out and has a positive frame of mind. Anyone who met me after 1997 might think I'm this person who turns her hand to anything and makes it work out, each time going for bigger and better. But the catalyst for all of this goes back, way back to 1988 just before I turned 19. Barbara and Graham telling me that I would achieve anything I set my mind to was the turning point in my life - I'd fallen off the "traditional" path when I'd failed my A levels but now found myself on another path where anything was possible so long as you believed it was. Their belief in me led to an unconditional offer from another university later that year and that triggered off the whole "international" angle to my life. University was followed by a fantastic job in Japan teaching English and before I returned to the UK, I'd secured a place at the University of Leeds to do a Masters in International Relations. The MA led to a brilliant job in the Foreign Office and after 3 years in the public sector I decided I wanted to move into the private sector and work for a Consultancy.

At that time someone close in my life told me that it would be hard for me to get a job as I was female and 31 and as these were the prime child-bearing years, it would put prospective employers off (yes hard to believe that there are people out there who still hold this kind of view, even more scary to think that this particular person is involved in recruitment for the company he works for). I decided not to listen to his archaic views and went ahead and wrote speculative letters to the top three Consultancies in the country - and was delighted when Bell Pottinger Consultants hired me as a Consultant. I don't think they actually had a position they needed to fill, I think they may just have created something for me. So everything I'd achieved in my life from 18 to 31 could be traced back to Barbara and Graham telling me that I would achieve anything I set my mind to and me deciding to find out what that would mean exactly. My family obviously played a big part too as when you bring into the equation that I'm from a fairly traditional Pakistani muslim family, the life I've led can be seen as quite extraordinary from a normal perspective but from the Pakistani perspective it does go off the scale somewhat! But my dad had spoken some very wise words to me when I was at university. There was the chance to study in America as part of a student exchange, there was only one place available and I decided I wanted to go and I would be the best person for my university to send. When I spoke to my dad about this opportunity, he told me to go for it (or whatever his words would have been in Urdu) - you had to take opportunities whenever they came along as they may never come back again - so I listened to his wise words and just went for it, taking opportunities as they came and creating a few along the way!

So after a bit of thinking and pondering, I've realised that my main "Why" for doing Arbonne is to share with people that anyone can create a truly amazing life and sometimes it just takes another person to have a bit of belief in them and to say "You can do it!" I look back at the amazing things I've done, the wonderful friends I've made along the way and the unforgettable experiences I've had over the last two decades - and so much is because some people believed in me at key points in my life (usually when things had gone drastically wrong). I know that a few words of support, encouragement and belief can literally change a life - that change can be tiny or it can be massive and I really believe that should be for everyone, not just some "lucky" person like myself who happened to be around some life-changing people at various points in time. If I can do it, then anyone can do it - sometimes all it takes is a little nudge, a bit of belief or some positive support and words of encouragement. It's been given to me and it's time to give it back a hundred times over. Now my Arbonne "Why" makes a lot more sense!

As my sponsor Jo said to me "Your Why needs to make you cry"... My "Why" before literally did make me cry as it seemed so utterly elusive and out of reach (I've learnt that there's one thing that really is out of your hands and that's having your own family). My new "Why" also makes me feel very emotional but in a good way. This is my way of saying "thank you" to the people in my life so far who have believed in me, encouraged me, supported me - I'm always amazed that it was literally a few minutes of their time but it has led on to a life for me that many times has made me go "wow!" It's also my way of sharing with everyone that anyone can do anything, so long as they have the right mind set and attitude - I've learnt stacks along the way, from personal experience and also by watching and observing closely those around me who inspire and amaze me - it may be the way they raise their families, how they may be ordinary people who live extraordinary lives or a generosity of spirit that knows no bounds. If I can make a difference in one person's life, if I can instill in someone that sense of "you can achieve anything you set your mind to" then I know my "Why" for doing Arbonne gives me a sense of purpose that fills me with excitement and joy!

Kinesiology - round forty seven....

2010-06-14T13:10:00.000-07:00

It's been over four months since I last posted, my only excuse being that things have been quite busy and there have been some interesting, at times hilarious, developments in my life since that last post. My personal life has changed beyond recognition, as has my work life but I'm not going to go into too much detail, particularly about my love life (apart from to say that it's good and fun and I'm happy!) - I want to see how this story falls into place before I talk about it.

Anyway, I thought it a good time to start blogging again as life is on the move - literally. I've moved out of the family home and into a house share a few streets away. I realised that I was living in total chaos and not wanting to be there and this was making it difficult (or near enough impossible) to focus on the Arbonne business in any kind of systematic way. It was all very stop start stop start and I was going nowhere. I knew I needed to get a bit of order in my life before I could focus on Arbonne and so I've moved into a lovely house where my double room includes a desk (which I'm sat at now, overlooking the garden) and an alcove full of shelves for me to get my life back in order. In some ways I'm traumatised by the chaos I was living in as it really did get pretty bad but I think I managed to block it out in some shape or form. I'm curious to see how life feels now going forwards.

I also finished my last lot of supplements for the kinesiology treatment back at the end of January. Although they'd done a remarkable job of tackling the candida that had obviously been causing problems for many years, my hormones still felt a little wonky and my energy levels were still non-existent. It's difficult to gauge how your energy levels are when you're living in an environment you don't want to be in as you're not at optimum state but I also knew that the kinesiology sessions I'd already had just didn't seem to sort out the energy levels. They were brilliant for lots of other things and identified that my energy levels were suffering due to leaky gut and malabsorbtion of nutrients but no matter how many supplements I took, it never seemed to make any difference. It was a little frustrating as it felt like I was making no progress at all even though I was popping pills furiously and could see some amazing results with other areas of my health. Anyway, I made an appointment to see my kinesiologist at Easter time. On the day of the appointment, she texted to say she had flu and would have to cancel. A little while later I tried to make another appointment but it seemed like a series of calamaties had left my kinesiologist unable to practice for a few weeks, or may a few months. I decided that I didn't want my progress held up by what was going on in my kinesiologist's life so I found another kinesiologist who was based locally and went to see her today.

It feels like the candida has returned in some fashion as my lower belly has stopped being as flat as before. And yes, tests showed that it had returned and I was prescribed one of the supplements I'd taken before plus some others that help to elimate the toxins that are produced when you get rid of the candida bacteria. I don't think I had anything like that in the previous session and I'm wondering why? Today's kinesiologist focused on my depleted energy levels by looking at my diet and making some changes that I consider fairly drastic - it was the first time that I actually felt sad and upset by some of the things I have to give up. As well as taking 24 supplements a day and some weird iron drink 3 times a day, I've been told to give up sugar, peanuts, chemical food additives, coffee, coke, alcohol and cow's milk products. Looking at that list, the things I will struggle with the most are deserts, chocolate and dairy products. These are all things that I don't eat excessively but when I do eat them, they give me great pleasure and I'm just not the sort of person who wants to take out the pleasurable things in life - things in moderation are better. However, having spent £120 on a month's worth of supplements I decided that I might as well do this properly instead of wasting the money and not making any progress. And in all fairness when I look at my diet over the last year or so, at times it has been pretty poor. When you're not in control of your own life, you're not in control of what you eat either. I would tend to eat what was available instead of buying and preparing the things I would normally eat. And I'm sure there was some comfort eating going on - lots of coffee, muffins, chocolate, crisps, coke - hmm, maybe this is a good thing that I'm about to embark on what feels like a boot-camp as my diet had slipped into a poor state without me even being aware...

So I went for my last "normal" meal with S today, off to one of our favourite local places for lunch and ate everything that from tomorrow I won't be able to have. I had a tomato, mozzarella and basil ciabatta with a can of coke, followed by a chocolate fairy cake and a coffee - trying to enjoy it all but most of the time thinking what I'd be able to eat now and how much I'd miss enjoying a bit of chocolate when I sat down for half an hour with the Sunday papers. At times today I have toyed with the idea of not bothering with this regime as it just seems too extreme but then I've had to remind myself that over the last few years I've longed to have normal energy levels, trying to imagine a day when I'd wake up and bounce out of bed, ready and raring to go! I'm lucky that my energy levels have never stopped me from doing anything and I come across as quite an energetic person but feeling tired a lot of the time just makes you feel more weary. So instead of baling, I've decided to do this properly and that's why I find myself blogging again. I thought it might make for quite intersting posts if I chart how I feel over the next month or so as I embark on this energy-seeking journey. I thought it would be interesting to track progress and make a note of just how I get on.

So I've prepared for the big day tomorrow by stocking up on some things that I can eat. Even though I can't eat dairy, it's okay for me to eat produce made from ewe's and goat's milk. As I wandered round the supermarket trying to find some viable alternative options for yoghurt, I spied some yoghurt made from goat's milk and another one made from sheep's milk. I plumped for the goat's milk yoghurt even though I convinced myself that it would taste awful. When I got home, I had a quick taste and found it to be absolutely fine - it tasted of the yoghurt that my mum used to make when I was a kid. I think you just imagine that something is going to taste horrible simply because it's not as widely available as the popular choice of milk. So pleased was I to find that goat's milk yoghurt is actually quite lovely that my dinner turned out to be a bowl of chopped bananas and strawberries with sunflower seeds and yoghurt and honey! However, when I was in the health food shop earlier today and I spied some chocolate that was dairy-free, I thought about getting it but decided that I wasn't quite ready to be disappointed by something that doesn't quite come up to scratch with a gorgeous bar of Galaxy!

Right, I've got to go now and prepare all those pesky supplements for tomorrow. It's going to take a while to get my head round what I need to take when as there are so many and I need to make sure that I've got them in a transportable fashion so that I don't wander off without them....

Graham Kerner RIP

2010-02-10T10:49:00.000-08:00

I hadn't seen or spoken to Graham in over 20 years but when I read the email last night that Graham had passed away from bowel cancer, an incredible sadness washed over me and I blinked back the tears as I tried to sleep.

Graham Kerner was my first proper boss, way back in the late 80s. I had a part-time job in the Crown and Greyhound in Dulwich Village and six months after starting there, the management changed and we got Graham and his then partner Barbara Haigh as the new management team. The old managers (I can't remember their names) were round and cuddly, the new team were not. Graham reminded me of a proper East End wide boy, I don't know if he came from the East End, maybe Bermondsey, and I'd never met a proper East End wide boy but in my mind, that's what Graham was. He looked like Burt Reynolds and seemed like such a grown-up, although he was 34 which I think is very young now. Barbara was a former Playboy Bunny, statuesque and imposing and suddenly at the age of 17, they were my bosses. I was petrified of them at first although they did bring a West End glamour to what had been a very quaint pub in the heart of Dulwich Village.

As I worked in the restaurant, I worked more closely with Barbara as Graham ran the bar. I worked the daytime shift on Saturdays and Sundays and made endless rounds of sandwiches for the punters. Barbara started a Sunday roast and before long, word had spread that the best roast in London could be found at the "Dog" and we'd have a queue forming long before the doors opened at midday. At the tender age of 17, I found myself tasked with making sure everything in the restaurant was ready for service as Barbara would be busy cooking up a storm in the kitchen upstairs, coming down just before midday, knives sharpened and ready to carve up huge joints of meat. I would be stationed right next to her, taking the plates from her and adding vegetables and roast potatoes. It was non-stop for three hours and I kept an eye on things, making sure we didn't run out of anything during service.

The year after Barbara and Graham started running the Dog, I took my A levels and failed miserably. Apart from failing my driving test the previous year, I'd never failed at anything and as my academic disaster was completely my own fault, I experienced what it was like to mess things up and know it was down to you. I hated that feeling and vowed never to go there again. But although academically I was floundering, I was a good employee at the Dog and in the world of work seemed to do okay. I know it's not much, a part-time job to see you through your A level years, but I learnt a lot about how to operate in the work environment, about being professional and reliable and responsible - all things that are essential if you want to succeed in life. Barbara took me under her wing (I'd stopped being scared of her quite quickly) and taught me loads about working in a restaurant and how to do things properly. Apparently Playboy had incredibly high standards and these stayed with Barbara after she left so I lucked out and got some excellent training. Even at home, I still clear plates the way Barbara taught me, a plate in your left hand to scrape leftovers onto, the forks facing forwards, the knives all tucked under the forks and the rest of the plates piled up on your left arm.

The year of the disastrous A levels, I started saving for a car. I'd passed my driving test second time round and my dad had said he'd buy me a small car as he'd done the same for my older sister a few years earlier. The only problem was that my dad wanted to get a non-descript Nissan and I wanted a Volkswagen Beetle. My dad said he wouldn't get me a Beetle and I didn't want the Nissan so I decided to buy the Beetle myself. It was the days before bank cards and if I wanted money, I'd cash a cheque at the bank or sometimes at the Dog. As my cheque book was the only way to get hold of money and I needed to save for the car, I had my cheque book locked in the safe at the Dog with Barbara and Graham under strict instructions not to give me the cheque book until I was ready to buy the car.

The following year, a few weeks shy of my 19th birthday, I asked for the cheque book as I was just about to buy a car. I'd found a bright red VW Beetle 1303S, registration CBO 601L and had promptly fallen in love with it and decided it had to be mine. Cheque book reclaimed I purchased my first car and drove to the Dog bursting with pride! I think Barbara and Graham was equally proud of this achivement and they said something to me that still rings in my ears today. They told me that I would achieve anything I set my mind to, anything at all. I don't know what they saw in me but they saw something, maybe some potential and they said those words that really did change my life. Up til then, I'd spent most of my life in the shadow of my brainy, beautiful, sporty, musical older sister, the one who was going to become a doctor, the one who was going to make my dad's dream come true. As she'd taken up the post of the golden child, there wasn't much left for me apart from ugly duckling rebel and this role I seemed to fulfil without even trying very hard.

I'd been unhappy about the crappy comprehensive I got sent to at the age of 11 and forced my parents to let me going on a sporting holiday for a week in the summer holidays after the first year. I spent a week riding and playing squash and although I was happy to let the squash slide (I think accidently whacking my best friend Claire in the face with the squash racquet might have had something to do with this...), I was hooked on the riding and insisted on carrying on riding at Dulwich Riding School once I was back. Within the Pakistani community I'm sure this was frowned upon, it's not a very Pakistani thing to do but I carried on. This soon turned into working at the riding school as a working pupil and even when word reached my grandmother in Pakistan (via an aunt who'd decided it was disgraceful the amount of time I spent outside of the home) and an angry letter came from my Grandmother to my dad, insisting I gave up riding, I still persisted.

Even though I was the rebel in the family I felt like I was a nobody and a nothing. In your teenage years, it's mainly about academic success and the things I enjoyed and excelled at were frowned upon, things seen to embarrass the family, not things to be proud of. But saying that, my family were great and supportive and would come to any shows I entered - there was a big crowd of them present at the show where my horse reared up as soon as we got into the ring, fell backwards, I fell off and the horse galloped off, defying anyone to catch him again.

Anyway, after failing my A levels I felt horrendous and had no idea what was going to become of my life. The one thing I realised very quickly with the failure was that no-one was going to pick me up and sort things out for me. If I ended up in the gutter, it was up to me to get myself out and make something of my life. So long as there was a doctor in the family, it felt a bit like it didn't really matter what happened to the other three. I felt like I could be brilliant too, just like my older sister but it wasn't going to be academic brilliance and I didn't know that any other kind of brilliance existed. Somewhere deep down inside, I thought I could have a special life, an amazing life, a life that I'd look back on and be proud of but when you feel like a nothing and a nobody, that feeling of what you might be gets tucked away somewhere very deep inside.

So, when Barbara and Graham said those words to me, told me that I would achive anything I set my mind to, something inside of me came alive. I wasn't entirely sure what they could see but belived that they could see something, even if I couldn't and decided to take their word for it. If they belived it, then I could believe it too! I think it was Graham who suggested I look at doing hotel and catering at university, not the original Psychology I'd applied for. Once again, not the best career choice for a muslim Pakistani girl, my mum made me feel like working in the hotel and catering industry was just one notch up from being a lady of the night, it wasn't work to be proud of, it wasn't work to impress your social circle with but I still went ahead and did it. I applied to the University of Brighton and although I still didn't have the grades they wanted, I'd decided that's where I wanted to go and that's where I would go. By that time, I was working full-time in a restaurant (had a year out before university) but would still do the Sunday lunchtime shift at the Dog, so attached I was to the place and the people. The manager at the new restaurant had said I wouldn't get into Brighton because of my grades but Barbara and Graham's belief in me had ignited a fairly fierce belief in myself and I proved him wrong. I might not have had the grades but I wowed them with the interview and go an unconditional offer.

I went off to the University of Brighton in September 1989, all my worldly possessions packed in my bright red Beetle. By this time both Barbara and Graham had moved on from the Dog, moved on personally as a couple and gone their separate ways to run different pubs. Just before I went to university would have been the last time I saw Graham but I kept in touch with Barbara and she would fill him in on what I was up to.

Now when I look back over the last 20 years, I'm amazed by what I've done and achieved. Sometimes I look at my CV and think "you failed your A levels, you should never have done the things you have done". I've lived and worked overseas, most notably 3 years teaching English in Japan. I've got a Masters in International Relations and spent 3 years working at the Foreign Office where I helped to organise a massive press conference for Bill Clinton and Tony Blair, amongst other things. I got the top communications consultancy to create a job for me when I wrote them a spec letter, I've worked with Presidents and politicians, I've had the balls to set up my own business in something I'd never done before but believed I could. The last 20 years, although at times random and seemingly unconnected, were all triggered by two people's belief in me and their words of wisdom and encouragement that I could do anything I set my heart on. Funnily enough, I never went into the world of hospitality after university but my time at Brighton set off it's own chain of events, I got to live and work overseas, make some friends who will be with me for my lifetime and fall truly, madly, deeply in love for the first time whilst on a work placement overseas.

Graham, I know you're no longer with us but from your place as a twinkling star in the sky, I hope you can see this and see just how much difference your words, your belief, your encouragement made to my life, particularly at a time when I wasn't sure I'd amount to much at all. Maybe somewhere deep down inside I might have believed a miracle was possible but it was buried too far away for it to resonate at all. You and Barbara made me believe anything was possible and I took your words and ran with it - your words still ring in my ears today. I wish I'd been able to tell you all of this while you were still alive but I know what I'm like, I'd never have been able to express it without getting choked with emotion but at least I can write it. Thank you to both you and Barbara for being undoubtedly the best bosses I've ever worked for, thank you for everything you taught me but most of all, thank you for your words. They may only have been a few words but they changed a life and for that I will be eternally grateful. We may not have been in touch over the last 20 years but I have always carried you and Barbara in my heart, you've always been there on the adventures and I have never forgetten, will never forget the profound impact you both had on my life in my gangly late teenage years!

Anonymous posters....

2010-01-10T13:13:00.000-08:00

Although this blog is in the public domain, for all intents and purposes it's private. People don't stumble across it when doing a Google search (unless of course they're putting my name into Google) and the only people who know of it would be people who know me. I generally know who reads my blog, who knows about it. However twice I've had some pretty nasty comments left by anonymous posters - the first time it happened, I left it up there. The second time, last week, I decided against allowing the comment but thought I'd write about it here instead.

You see, what my anonymous posters don't know is that my blog is pretty much private and if anyone leaves nasty comments, even if they don't have the balls to attach their name to them, I know immediately who it is. Both times it's happened, the guilty person has flashed into my mind while I've read the comments and although I won't name them here, I will refer to them as MK and HR. "How can you be so sure?" you may be thinking. Well, both have done things in the past which makes it very easy to work out who the coward is hiding behind the anonymous nastiness. HR questioned whether I suffer from NPD. I had no idea what NPD was, put it into Google but that only came up with New Product Development and I don't think I suffer from that. HR is someone who likes to read alot about personality disorders, talks about narcissists, I can only imagine it's something to do with that. But by using the term NPD, really gave yourself away you silly cow! Funny thing is, even before any of this happened, I had thought to myself that HR reminds me of MK and their actions show them to be even more similar, not just in their lives but in their behaviour. Also, the comments they made, the things that seemed to piss them off so much, well these were the same things they'd got pissed off about before....

Both have sent me some pretty strong nasty emails in the past. The thing with sending something like this is that you see what someone's style is, what gets them, what language they use. I'm very lucky in that I don't really have shit people in my life so when anyone gets horrible and angry, they are in a tiny minority and they stick out like sore thumbs. Obviously I don't really have anything to do with people when they behave like this but they still seem to like to see what I'm up to. Both have had certain expectations of me (that I've not known about) and then got incredibly upset when I haven't behaved in the way that was expected. Personally I think they over-react, maybe they just get upset that I don't care for them the way I might do for others....

The similarities continue between the two. I'd describe both as having a victim mentality, their lives are car-crash horrors and both choose to use the very public face of the internet to share their woes with the world. I've read stuff that they've both written and cringed in embarrassment on their behalf - at times it's been excrutiating, reading how bad their lives are, how abysmally they've been treated, the shit that continues. Both seem to be angry about stuff, both have suffered physical abuse at the hands of partners.

The latest anonymous comment in response to my post "Numb" went like this:
"If you weren't so horribly self absorbed maybe you'd have brain space to think about how your mother feels rather than how you feel. You you you! Ever considered you suffer from NPD?

Well, anonymous poster 2 (HR), let me discuss here. I re-read the post to see what I'd written and it talked about my parents deteriorating health more than anything else. Obviously I'd written about my reaction to it all (going completely numb when I went into auto-pilot) but I'm not in the head of anyone else, I can't write about how anyone else is feeling, only what I'm feeling. I'm not a journalist, it's not for me to try and prise out how my mum is feeling but it is for me to be there in the hospital when she's needed her family around her for support. No I don't know exactly how my mum feels but she probably doesn't either. Even if she does, having spent a lifetime hiding her feelings away, I'm not sure she'd even have the language to express how she's feeling. But this much I know, she has been petrified and this I have seen etched in her face as we've sat for hours in hospital waiting rooms, passing away the time, waiting for a diagnosis that took weeks to come. I've been sat next to her and heard her saying prayers in Arabic under her breath, praying that everything will be fine. After she had the bone marrow biopsy, I was on one side of her hospital bed, my dad on the other, both holding her hands because that is what she needed at that moment, that is what she wanted. I was in the room when the consultant finally said the words that we'd all been dreading, that she has cancer and would need chemotherapy.

So HR, anonymous poster 2 (you know who you are and so do I) - you may not like me but frankly I don't care. However, you have proved yourself to be a pretty low-level human being for leaving nasty comments at a very difficult time for my family and me. My mum has just been diagnosed with cancer and you write things like this? The level of hatred in your heart is alarming but I think I've said that to you in the past anyway. To leave them anonymously shows you to be a spineless pathetic coward, if you think all these things about me, have the balls to say them to my face (well at least post under your name). You are a sad, pathetic, lonely individual and if I ever see you, well I think I may just laugh at you. I am lucky not to have a life like yours...

2009 - a rather strange year...

2009-12-31T12:45:00.000-08:00

If 2008 was quite possibly the single most intense year I've ever had, 2009 was the polar opposite, the most low-key year in all my adult life. I guess if you've pelted through life for two decades, having a quieter year is to be expected even though it can be difficult to live. When I'm used to all years having some highlights, a year like this feels like nothings happened. Of course many lovely things have happened but everything gets pitched against past experiences, past highs - so you have to hit even higher for it to nudge into conciousness.

Low-key doesn't mean bad though as I can see many good things that happened in the year. However as my recent past has been marked by some major achievements every year (usually in the work sense), 2009 has felt as if I've been laying strong foundations for the next chapter. I have no idea what lies ahead in this next chapter, I know that I want it to include my own family but as ever, this remains the one area of my life where I feel I have no control. At the end of the day, what is going to happen will happen - at times I do wish it would hurry up a bit though!

When I moved back to London from Ibiza in March, my flat was rented out and as I didn't have any work immediately, I took the safe option of moving back into the family home. It's not a decision I would have made by choice, it was more a decision of circumstances. In previous years, work has come my way fairly easily and I expected more of the same, even during the recession. However, something had changed fundamentally in what I wanted from work. I'd achieved all I needed to achieve on a personal work level before I left for Ibiza (and I never would have gone if I still felt I hadn't reached the peak that I'd been so determined to get to for a number of years) and deep down inside I knew that I wanted to find a way of working that would give me the freedom, flexibility and finances to live a life between London and Ibiza - and neither of the two things I'd done before would allow that. When the Arbonne opportunity came my way, as soon as I grasped the business potential, I realised I'd found the thing that could make my dream a reality, I just have to work it and it will happen. But the set up means that you're not necessarily making big money immediately - you take the biggest pay cut ever in a bid to earn more than you've probably dreamt was possible.

Back in London, staying at my parents house and with little money and initially no work meant socialising disappeared from any scale of importance. Also when I'm feeling slightly off-kilter as I did when I returned to London, I only want to see those I'm closest to. I spent a lot of time with Claud and the boys - with Kymani and Elias as my godsons, it only felt natural to go and hang out with them and they always lifted my spirits when I saw them. Staying in Dulwich meant that my nearest neighbour turned out to be Wilding, only two streets away. We embarked on a lot of spontaneous socialising in East Dulwich and by the time he moved out of the area a couple of weeks ago, I found myself considering him one of my best friends, certainly one of a handful who I would confide in about anything.

This sort of more spontaneous socialising suits me better - with Wilding, most of the time one or the other would call or text suggesting meeting up and an hour or two later and that would be it. No foreward planning, no getting diaries out to consult when we both had a free window - I think the only times I saw him when it was slightly more "organised" was when he was either DJing or doing one of the podcasts live. With Claud and the boys it was a little more planned but by days, not weeks in advance. Whenever I was free, I'd slot in with whatever they were doing which meant I've seen a lot of the boys this year. By Easter it was becoming apparent that they recognised me and even Kymani who takes a long time to warm to people was coming round to me. Now he'll be more excited to see me than twin Elias, but I'm very much a part of both of their lives.

One of the things I really didn't like about life before I moved to Ibiza was how difficult it was to see friends, spontaneity was a word that just didn't seem to feature in most people's vocabularies. You'd have to consult diaries and plan weeks or even months ahead to get a two-hour slot with someone you considered a close friend. The main consequence of that is by the time you meet up, have said hello and got past the "how are you" bit, it's time to go home again. And so it goes on, every time you meet up, you never get past the "how are you bit" so you end up feeling somewhat disconnected with people. It's fine if they're social acquaintances who you only see out and about and it's normal to have a 3-second conversation but strange with people you'd consider closer. Maybe I was at fault as I seemed to have a lot of friends and would flit between different people, different groups. I saw a little bit of lots of people.

It's been different this year, at first through circumstance and now I wouldn't choose it to be any other way. I've spent a lot of time with just a few people and consequently I feel I've got much deeper, stronger, tighter bonds with them. When my mum first went into hospital in November, it was Claud and Wilding who were the only two people who knew what was going on. They provided constant support, always asked how my mum was, always asked if we'd had any results. They are the two people in London I know I can go to if I'm feeling wobbly, if I feel in need of a hug. And the great thing is, having spent so much time with them the past few months, I feel completely at ease being totally open with them. So even though I haven't liked not having much money, not feeling work has completely taken off and being back in my childhood home, something very positive, very special has come out of it, as it seems it always does!

I didn't focus on Arbonne until the beginning of October and used August and September to jetset around, doing all the things I wanted to do, all the things that if I'd been working full-time (even for myself) would have been impossible to do. I gallavanted around and it all felt quite decadent and at times a bit reckless but I'm glad I did it! There was only one week in those two months when I wasn't getting on a plane but I still found myself at the airport as Simone was in transit and I wanted to get a couple of hours with her. My two trips to Ibiza meant spending a lot of time with Octavia as I was staying with her and that was just brilliant! She has to be my favourite person on the island and the first person I'll see I can stay with whenever I head over there. I flew up to Edinburgh for the night as Wilding as doing another live show of the Perfect Ten. Ten days later I flew back up to Scotland for Daryl's wedding in the Highlands, against the beautiful backdrop of Loch Lomond. And then a day after getting back to London from my second trip to Ibiza, I jetted off again to LA to celebrate Carly's birthday with her. So although this year has felt very low key, it has been very much friend-focused and I think deep down inside, that was something I wanted, needed, had been looking for.

The other thing that I'm aware of is that after three years of kinesiology treatment, I finally feel that I'm back to normal. When I last went to see the kinesiologist at the beginning of October, I was acutely aware of the fact that my hormones were still wonky and I found myself wondering if I would ever feel better, would I ever be okay again, would I ever find myself feeling normal again? In that session, the problem that came to the fore was candida in my stomach, quite possibly the reason why I looked and felt constantly bloated in my lower stomach. No matter how many sit-ups I did a day, my lower belly just had a mind of its own. I was given a whole heap of supplements to take for four months, with a secondary supplement to try and balance the hormones. When I started the course of supplements I was feeling truly horrendous and once again wondered when, if ever, would I be better?

But I was determined to take the supplements properly, the correct number every day and not miss any days out. The first month I didn't see or feel any results but by the second month, my bloated stomach disappeared and other stomach problems I'd had eased away too. And amongst all of this, it felt like my hormones were back to behaving normally. I'd hate to think what state I would have been the last few weeks while we've been having parent health scares if my hormones were still all over the place. I probably would have plummeted and then had to drag myself out again from the lowest depths. Yet now, having to face some fairly stressful situations, I held it all together and got on with things, my hormones not preventing me from functioning properly. Further research into candida showed that it can cause a hormonal imbalance or depression and so this may have been one of the major problems all along. Finally I feel like my insides are back to being healthy and I can resume normal life where health is concerned.

So 2009 is definitely not a year when nothing happened. But what's been going on has been part of this foundation I've been laying for what is around the corner. I feel like I'm ready for whatever it is and once it comes, I can spring into action, knowing my health is back, I think I've dealt with any other outstanding issues and grown and developed and created a bedrock of incredibly strong, loyal, brilliant friends. When next year kicks into action and whatever magic coming my way comes, I'll look back at this time and be thankful that I got everything in order so I was ready for the next chapter!

My favourite song of 2009....

2009-12-31T12:09:00.000-08:00

It's been another year where I haven't bought that much new music, or even listened to many new albums. However, even in the musical drought, I did get hold of the new Prefab Sprout album "Lets change the world with music" and that ended up being my favourite album of the year (I listen to it every night as I drift off to sleep) as well as providing me with my favourite song of 2009.

The song is "God Watch Over You" and is the fourth track on the album. Being so blase about religion, I actually struggled in the beginning with loving a song so much that talked about God. But I fell in love with the lyrics and have accepted the song for the beautiful words, even if they do mention God. I understand the meaning, the spirit of the song, to care about someone so much that you want them to be forever protected and what a beautiful sentiment that is. Here are the lyrics, let them capture you too!

God Watch Over You

I've no time for religion,
maybe doubt's a modern disease?
Then I look at you, and here's what I do,
I wear holes in both my knees.

I pray that God protects you,
and if he is busy elsewhere
may his legions speed
in your hour of need
and surround you till he's there.

I pray that God protects you...

God watch over you
every minute, every moment
God watch over you
every minute, every moment
God watch over you (and if you fall)

May he stretch out his arm and catch you,
keep you from harm, or sweep you
into his palm...but...

God watch over you
God watch over you

I've told your guardian angel
not to let you out of his sight
or attempt to fly - if he sees you cry
he's to stand his ground and fight,
I've warned your guardian angel...

God watch over you
every minute, every moment
God watch over you
every minute, every moment
God watch over you (and if you fall)

May he stretch out his arm and catch you,
keep you from harm, or sweep you
into his palm...but...

God watch over you
God watch over you (and if you fall)
God watch over you

God watch over you
God watch over you

I love the way that Paddy McAloon puts lyrics together. In the first verse, the last line "I wear holes in both my knees" - although the words are actually nonsensical, they immediately create an image of someone on their knees, praying fervently. He projects an image using words that don't actually make sense. Although this is quite normal for a Sprout song and the lyrics on this album are nowhere near as bonkers as they have been on other albums.

The whole album is linked by the dual themes of music and religion. And when I hear someone sing so passionately about music, all it makes me want to do is put down some roots somewhere (I've been living like a hobo for nearly two years now), get all my stuff out of storage, set up my decks, sort out my CDs and albums and make music a big part of my life again!

Numb...

2009-12-30T13:41:00.000-08:00

Otherwise known as not feeling anything. That's how the last week or so has been. Nothing to do with the cold weather we've been having, everything to do with both parents being admitted to hospital just before Christmas. Back in the middle of November, my dad collapsed. Not quite in front of me but I was in the room and had my back to him. I turned to see him with his head and upper body collapsed on the dining table, he looked like he had gone. I screamed and turned away, hitting my forehead at the same time (I have no idea why I do this but I've noticed that when I witness something bad, I hit my forehead - can anyone explain this?). Then I turned back and went to him, all the while in a state of panic and fluster. My aunt and uncle were there too and my mum was in the kitchen. We were all panicking and I realised that at least one person needed to get a grip and take control of the situation so I picked up the phone and dialled 999. By this time my dad had lifted his head from the table, announcing he'd "just been resting". For a split second I thought I'd over-reacted but then I'd seen him looking dead and decided that he was under-playing the scene, not me over-playing it.

My dad kept insisting he was fine but I wasn't convinced and carried on with the 999 call. At some point, he had another attack and although he remained upright because we were holding him, his eyes went funny and he wasn't really there. My mum came into the room and asked him how he was. "I'm fine" he replied. "He's fine" my mum said, followed by "you can cancel the ambulance, he's fine...". She then tried to give him some water and his breakfast until I told her not to. The first paramedic arrived pretty promptly, followed by the ambulance and a second crew of paramedics. They checked him out, said we'd done the right thing by calling 999 and took him off to hospital for a full check-up. I had to go with him even though I hate hospitals and my older sister Rahila followed behind, bringing my mum with her. While we were in A&E waiting to see someone, my dad asked me what happened. I asked him how much he remembered. He remembered me coming into the room but not much else after that. The next thing he remembered was after the first paramedic had arrived. It dawned on me that there was a period of about ten or fifteen minutes he had no recollection of and it was during this time he was insisting he was fine.

Once Rahila arrived at the hospital, I left in a daze and complete state of shock. I know this was the case as I went to the bus stop and didn't even register that I was stood at the wrong bus stop. It was only when a few of the right buses went straight past even though I was trying to stop them that I realised something was amiss. Eventually I got on the right bus and got home. I was in shock by what had happened but more in shock by the reaction of both parents, insisting that everything was okay. My parents tend to deal with things by that great Pakistani trait, sweeping everything under the carpet and being in total denial about things, particularly when they are staring right at them. It's a trait that frustrates me but it seems as if many people are too scared to look at what's going on and hope that by brushing things under the carpet, it will magically disappear. Sometimes the crap under the carpet is so big it creates a mountain with the person sat precariously on top, convinced that everything is okay but that's only because they can't see the big pile of crap they're sat on.

Once back home, my parents told others that the reason my dad had collapsed was because he'd been making breakfast or hadn't had breakfast - anything to gloss over the fact that something might be wrong. And it's amazing how people will buy this. They told the same story to my brother and I heard him relaying it to one of the neighbours who'd come to ask how he was. I went out and told my brother that his story was in fact incorrect - my dad has a history of mini strokes, although this time the hospital think it may be something to do with his heart. My brother told me the same thing had happened a few years ago when he'd been there with my mum. They'd done nothing as my dad had come round and said he was fine. Turned out my dad had collapsed last year as well at the time of my brother's wedding and once again, came round quickly insisting he was fine. And once again, nothing was done...

After this episode with my dad and seeing the level of denial that people operate under, I decided to go to a hospital appointment my mum had the following Friday. Her haemoglobin count has been plummeting which means something is wrong. The local rather useless GP's clinic had put her on iron tablets but still the haemoglobin level kept going down. In the meeting with the Consultant, my mum insisted she was perfectly okay but with the haemoglobin count continuing downwards, the Consultant said that she wasn't perfectly okay and they wanted to admit her straight away so they could investigate further. She wanted to go home to get her things so I made her stay and wait for a bed, sending my dad home instead to get her things. After hours of waiting a bed finally came up and we could leave her in the hands of the hospital staff. While we were waiting for a bed, another Consultant came to see my mum. He mentioned the term myeloma and my ears pricked - this was the term Rahila had asked about when I'd called her to say they were going to admit my mum. In the meeting with the first Consultant, I hadn't known what to listen out for but after talking to my sister (she's a doctor so knows these sorts of things), I knew to listen out for myeloma even though I had no idea what it was. The doctors suspected my mum might have myeloma and wanted to do a bone marrow biopsy to see if that was the case. I asked the Consultant what myeloma is and he wouldn't tell me as he said it upsets people and I should look on the internet.

Once I got home, I spoke to Rahila and told her what the Consultant had said. She said not to look up what myeloma was but by saying that, I did exactly that. Switched on my computer, went to Google and typed in myeloma. It didn't take long to discover that myeloma is bone marrow cancer, it's not curable and it's rare. Via the internet I found out that my mum might have cancer. When I went to bed that night I lay there worrying and after a few hours of not being able to sleep, got up and phoned my cousin in Dallas who is one of the many doctors in the family and we'd been trying to get hold of him. He asked me if they were testing for myeloma and I said yes. When I went back to bed, still unable to sleep, I found myself projecting forwards in a world where my mum does have myeloma and I had to stop myself - you can't react to something if you're not sure about it which leaves you not being able to have any emotional reaction at all. And you have to remain in emotional limbo until there is a confirmed diagnosis.

My mum stayed in hospital for a week. I went into auto-pilot, juggling work around being at the hospital between 2-8, the normal visiting hours. Work was busy and it was good to have something else to focus on at an otherwise trying time. It made me realise that I need the parameters of work to help me cope during challenging times. My mum was scared about the biopsy, about how painful it would be. Every time a nurse or doctor came to see her, she'd keep asking the same thing "will it hurt, will it be painful?" She wanted to have as many people as possible there when she had the biopsy and for every visitor she had who was in some ways connected to the world of medicine, she asked if they could be there for the biopsy. We knew she couldn't be on her own when the biopsy happened and it turned out that both me and my dad were there when the procedure finally took place.

My dad and I had to wait outside the room while they did the biopsy. My dad was still talking about going to Pakistan (they were due to go the following Sunday). Even though the Consultant had advised against travelling when my mum had been admitted, my dad still thought she might be okay in time to travel on Sunday. I had to tell him that they wouldn't be going to Pakistan on Sunday even though he was convinced it might still be possible. I felt like the person who was spoiling all their fun, telling them they couldn't do the one thing they always do and maybe spend the whole year looking forward to.

Once the biopsy was done, we could go back into the room. My mum was lying on the bed looking shocked. When she saw us, she started to cry. I had to tell her not to cry as that would make me cry and then we sat with her, either side of her bed, holding her hands. At one point, my mum asked me to lean in so she could hug me. I guess she needed the human contact and it made me wonder if I hadn't of been there, would she have asked my dad for a hug? Probably not. A lot of Pakistani people of my parents generation have no physical contact with their spouses in public. I've never seen my parents hold hands or embrace or hug, nothing natural and spontaneous - it's strange growing up in a household where there is no natural affection between parents for children to see. My mum doesn't even call my dad by his name, preferring to use the term "soon yay" which translated from the Urdu means something like "listen here". In fact, a Japanese friend of my sister's was staying at the house for a while and she actually thought my dad's name was "soon yay" as that's how she heard my mum call him and assumed that was his name.

My mum came out of hospital a few days later and had to go back the following week for the biopsy results. Another week of waiting in limbo, unable to react. I went to the hospital the following week and although she was seen by a specialist myeloma consultant, they still couldn't give us any definitive results and had to go back two weeks later. Another two weeks of not knowing, being in emotional limbo, not being able to react. I found the time trying. My closest friends knew but I realised that I couldn't tell other close friends as I wasn't sure what I was going to tell them - my mum might have cancer. But then she might not. Being in limbo is tiring, whatever it's about but this kind of limbo is particularly tiring.

Two weeks later, the week before Christmas, we went back to the hospital to get the results. The doctors confirmed what they suspected - my mum had myeloma and would need to start treatment. This time they had to explain what myeloma was, they had to tell my mum and dad that it was cancer and she would need to start a course of chemotherapy. The bombshell finally dropped, my mum's ill, she's been ill for a while, probably a couple of years or more. She couldn't say she was perfectly okay anymore as there was now the proof to prove that that wasn't the case. I wasn't sure how my mum or dad would react to the news. I wasn't sure how I'd react either. Both parents were okay, subdued but okay. My mum didn't start crying and I thought she might. I didn't start crying either and I thought I might. Much later I realised that I was on auto-pilot, had been on auto-pilot since my dad collapsed and there's no room for emotion here.

After the diagnosis, I called Rahila to tell her. While we'd been in the meeting, my phone had been switched off and when I switched it back on again, I could see that my younger sister Alia had called a number of times and sent texts. When I spoke to Rahila I asked her whether I should tell Alia over the phone or go and tell her? Alia is prone to getting very emotional and upset by things like this and I wasn't sure how best to handle it. Rahila said it would be okay to call her so I did. When I told her that they had confirmed myeloma she burst into tears and kept asking "are they sure, are they sure?" This was pretty hard as although I can keep my own emotions in check, when others around me start crying that's when I start to lose it. And I didn't want to lose it in the corridor of King's College Hospital with lots of people passing by. I'm sure they're used to it but I'm not.

My mum had to start the course of chemotherapy straight away and as it's something that can be taken at home, I left my parents in the pharmacy to wait for a big bag of drugs while I went home and then on to dinner with friends - finally I could tell my nearest and dearest what was going on. Actually only three of my best friends knew that anything was up, Claud and Wilding in London and Simone in Abu Dhabi. They were a constant source of support in the limbo period, calling, texting, emailing to see if there was any news, to see how I was. Wilding sent me a text, asking how everyone was, how I was. And I replied honestly, I didn't know how I was because I just seemed numb, I didn't feel anything. Even once the bombshell had dropped, no reaction happened. I waited for a great rush of emotion but nothing. Obviously I didn't feel happy or joyful but I didn't feel scared or sad or broken-hearted either, I just didn't feel anything. And for someone who feels everything, who is very much in tune with feelings and emotions and lives life by how they feel about something, it was strange to feel nothing.

When I came back from work the next day, I asked my mum if she had started the treatment. She hadn't as she'd come down with a cold or flu. When my parents left the hospital the night before, they stepped out into the cold, rainy night and got a bus back to Dulwich. On that short journey home, my mum picked up a bug and couldn't start the treatment until she was well again. A few days later, I noticed that my dad's right eye was droopy and he had a rash on his head. I asked him about it and he said that his eye had been like that for a few days and the rash was dermatitus. I called Rahila to tell him about my dad's eye (she's an opthamologist) but she was out shopping so I left a message with my nephew instead. The next day we all got together at Rahila's for her birthday lunch. As soon as Rahila and her husband Andrew (also a doctor) saw my dad, they said he had shingles and needed to start medication immediately. As it was a Sunday, Andrew took them both to A&E instead of hunting around for a pharmacy that might be open. As soon as they saw my mum, they said she had pnumonia and admitted her straight away, particularly after the myeloma diagnosis. My dad was given medication for the shingles and came back home again.

So, before the reality of my mum's myeloma had a chance to even begin to sink in, she was back in hospital with pnuemonia, caught on the bus home after being diagnosed. My dad probably came down with shingles at the same time. A part of me wonders how much they managed to fight things off while they believed that everything was okay but as soon as they found out that my mum has a form of cancer, something inside of them just collapsed. Not one fell, they both did. A few days after my mum was admitted, my dad was brought back into A&E by Rahila. He'd had a home visit by the doctor who was not happy with his worsening condition and when Rahila saw him later that evening, she said she was bringing him straight in. I was already at the hospital with my mum. She'd been kept in isolation while they tested for Swine flu but once they got the results that she didn't have the virus, she could be moved onto a Haemotology ward. Once again we waited for a bed and I asked the nurses if I could wait until she was moved and they said yes. Once my dad came in, I went down to A&E to see him. When I explained to the nurses where I was going, they expressed the disbelief that I felt, one parent already in, the other just being brought in. And this is with two people who until this year have not had any major health issues that have involved overnight hospital stays. I never imagined that 2009, this strange year that so many have hated and can't wait to see end, would have been the year that my parents literally began to crumble in front of me.

When I got down to A&E and saw my dad, I started laughing. My dad started laughing too. The situation was quite surreal and unbelieveable and it felt like I'd accidently walked onto the set of some Hollywood Christmas movie. My dad looked like a tom cat that had been scrapping. His face was swollen and his eyes had practically disappeared. The shingles had left him with sores and scabs all over one side of his forehead and head and he had stubble. I don't think I've ever seen him with stubble, so fastidious is he with his shaving. At one point he was sat next to a guy who was a bouncer who'd been attacked. My dad looked as damaged as this man who'd been hit by a few and had his head stamped on. I finally left the hospital at around two and collapsed into a tired heap in bed.

With both parents in hospital, life revolved around them and their health. I was on auto-pilot, not being aware of much else. With it being the Christmas period, you don't even have work to distract you for a few hours, to add a bit of normality in an otherwise bizarre period. I took a day off on Boxing Day and got out of London, went to see friends and get fed. Even just a few days of hours spent at the hospital leaves you physically drained and exhausted and in my case, hungry. After a few days of eating hospital sandwiches, I needed to go and get fed, as well as have a little escape. After the hospital on Christmas Day I went off to Claudette's house for Christmas dinner and then away again on Boxing Day for a lot more food and time spent with friends. I thought this break would refresh me a bit but when I went back to the hospital on Sunday, I felt weepy and hungry and if I did feel any emotions, they were anger and frustration, not the emotions I was expecting to feel. On Monday night as I tried to sleep but found I couldn't, it felt like someone had whacked me round the head with a shovel and I had all this anger and frustration inside of me with no place to come out.

The next morning I made an appointment to see the counsellor attached to the department my mum is a patient of. It was really good to talk to her and start to come to terms with what had happened. The thing that I found most strange, probably struggled with the most (apart from incredible exhaustion, even after ten hours sleep a night) was that apart from feeling angry and frustrated, I didn't feel anything else. I didn't feel scared by my parents' mortality or the cancer diagnosis, I didn't feel sad, I didn't worry, I just didn't seem to feel anything that I would have expected to feel. For someone who is so in tune with emotions and knowing how I'm feeling, to go through so much and not feel a thing just seemed bizarre. I don't hide from my feelings but it seemed they were hiding from me. This leaves me with the problem of not knowing what to do, what I want to do, what I don't want to do - I've always used how I feel about things to take action, my feelings guide me so when you have no feelings, your terms of reference for how you live your life, how you function, have been whipped away from you with nothing to replace them.

The counsellor said this is normal, when you go into auto-pilot, you have to do, not feel, the priority is to be practical, not emotional. Also I won't let my feelings surface until I feel I'm somewhere where I feel comfortable and relaxed - I may be staying at the family home but it's not my home - until I'm somewhere I feel truly comfortable, the feelings will remain hidden. After this was explained to me and the counsellor assured me that my feelings would return, it made me realise this emotional void I've been living recently is a lot of people's reality. So weird, I'm finding it difficult to feel nothing and so many people make themselves feel nothing or hide from their deepest feelings and emotions as a way of coping with day to day life. I'd choose the full range of emotions any day. It's been worrying not knowing when exactly my feelings will return, when I'll begin to feel "normal" again. It helps that I know all the things I can do to make me feel better (I'm in pursuit of good feelings, the bad ones can just stay away) and even just a short run today made me feel just that little bit normal. Talking to my friend Soraya in Ibiza shed light on what I was going through a little more as she said one of her friends was experiencing exactly the same thing. Even just talking to her made me smile and feel happy again. So, it feels like the numb feeling is starting to lift in time for a new year, a new decade! Just as well, I didn't want to go into 2010 feeling emotionally lost and numb....

End of a decade

2009-11-29T10:23:00.000-08:00

I was reading the Observer Music Monthly's feature on music from the last decade and it suddenly struck me that we're just over a month away from one decade ending and a new one starting and I hadn't even realised until today. I was so baffled by this that I asked out loud "does this decade end this year or next?". My friend Lucy said next year but as I sat there, counting the years from 2000 to 2009 on my fingers, it dawned on me that the decade was coming to a close...

It feels like the decade it trying to end quietly, without anyone noticing, a bit like someone leaving a party without saying good-bye to anyone as they don't want people to know they've left. It feels like the noughties are trying to sneak out, tip-toe away without anyone making too much fuss. Is there something strange going on or is this what happens when you're a decade older and wiser? I know in general it's been a strange year globally because of the recession but even without that, I can't quite decide how I feel about this year. Generally when I look back over the year, I can easily identify the highs and the not-so-highs and the year will have a particular feel to it, it'll get lodged in my memory bank for particular reasons. 2009 just doesn't feel like that....

I can see the good things that have happened in the year, but these have often been the result of an otherwise not great situation - they've been the silver linings to my clouds. It's not been an ecstatically high or horribly low year but it's coming to an end and I'm not sure quite how I'll remember it.

I remember 1989 coming to a close and the excitement of a new decade about to start. Excitement tinged with a little apprehension, you're 20, you think you know everything about everything but actually you know nothing as you have little or no life experience. You're excited about what the new decade will bring but at the same time wondering what exactly it will bring and all you can do is wonder. The Berlin Wall had come down a few months earlier, I'd left home and started university and the adventure had just begun. Soul II Soul were singing about a new decade, I'd just read an article that profoundly changed my life as it resonated in a way that nothing had done before.

The end of 1999 seemed to be an even bigger affair for everyone, not just the end of a decade but the end of a millenium. Everyone was wondering if there'd be an IT meltdown just as we welcomed in the year 2000. It seemed like a big deal then but imagine it now - technology has leapt so far forwards that if you took away the internet and mobiles and other gadgets from people, even for a few hours, there would certainly be a meltdown - of the human kind....

Lets see what this new decade brings!

Been a long time....

2009-11-29T08:48:00.000-08:00

....since I last posted but I'm still here! The main reason for a lack of posting is that I have another blog but it's a private blog, for me only. There's nothing wild or crazy in it, just that I treat my blog like a diary and some of the stuff I write about, well it's not for public consumption. I've always written privately, even when I was doing the blog regularly last year, writing is my way of dealing with things in my life but that doesn't mean I want to share it with the world, just want a place to get it down.

Anyway, since my last post here, a lot has been happening and here's a quick overview. I went to Ibiza again for a few days. I was slightly apprehensive about going as Will my ex was going to be there and I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about being on the island at the same time as him. There's no animosity between us but he's just not a part of my life and as my first trip to the island happened a few months after we split up, Ibiza is a part of my life post-Will.

I got to the island a few days before he was arriving with the boys. I didn't have any contact with Will prior to going but he knew I'd be there and he was cool with that. The day they all arrived, Colin sent me a text to say they would be in Ibiza town later that evening and I said I'd meet them for a drink once I was back. I was off hopping around the island with Octavia but once we were back in town, we went to meet the boys for a few drinks. We had a hilarious few hours - I didn't engage that much with Will but I wasn't rude or difficult, just didn't have that much conversation for him. At one point, a slightly drunk Octavia turned to Will and the conversation went something like this:

O - so, you're Will?
W - erm, yes...
O - The Will?
W - err yes...
O - well you're a bloody idiot aren't you! I haven't known Azra that long but she is amazing!

She said some other lovely things about me but I can't remember exactly what these were because by this point, we all had the same reaction:

"Oh my god, I can't believe she just said that" and secretly thinking "she's just said what we've always thought but no-one ever said it out loud...."

I found the whole thing hilarious but it was one of those moments where you're left with your mouth hanging open in slight disbelief. The next day we were going off to Space (me and the boys, no Octavia) but we all met for a drink beforehand. From what Octavia said, Will thought I was dressing quite provocatively but I pointed out it was just my "Ibiza" wardrobe, in fact it was exactly the same outfit I'd worn to Space when I'd been in August. Once in Space, I hung out with the boys but didn't really engage that much with Will again. It wasn't intentional, I just don't feel any real connection with him anymore. He's still a lovely, sweet, gentle person but our lives are so different and I've moved on so much and we have nothing to bond us together.

After the previous night's hilarious turn of events, little did I know that that night would also have a funny twist. We'd been at Space a couple of hours and I was on the dance floor with all the boys, including Will. I turned round to see him a couple of feet away from me, snogging some woman he'd just pulled. A few years ago that would have hurt me so much yet all I could think was "Oh Will, if you had to pull someone in front of me, couldn't you have gone for someone younger and hotter!" - the woman in question was not exactly a stunner and that place if full of gorgeous girls. The next thing I thought was "Space is massive, do you have to do this right in front of me when you could have disappeared to a quiet little corner....". But although I had thoughts running through my head, I didn't feel anything and at that precise moment I gained a little piece of wisdom - a person can't hurt your feelings if you have no feelings for them.....

After Ibiza I came back to London for a day and then flew off to LA for a long weekend to celebrate my friend Carly's birthday. I visited LA twice in 1994 and didn't like it at all but on this trip, I fell in love with the place. I think it probably helped that Carly lives in a very cool part of Venice, not far from the beach and the vibe reminded me a little of Ibiza. It was great to see her and hang out with her in her home town as whenever we've met before, it's always been in London, I've never seen her on her home turf. We went to Palm Springs for the actual birthday celebrations, taking over Hope Springs for the weekend. The place consists of 10 double rooms, each with an en-suite and a kitchenette, positioned around a series of 3 pools, the main pool, a hot mineral pool and an even hotter indoor mineral pool. The whole place was decked out in gorgeous midcentury modern furniture and it felt good to be in such beautiful surroundings again. We were a total of 20 people for the birthday celebrations, most of them new faces for me. On the Saturday, I found myself in a total blissed out haze and when I'm like that, I don't really talk to anyone. It's not being anti-social, just that when I'm having my prolonged moments of joy, I seem to quietly enjoy them and experience them and talking is the last thing I want to do. By the Sunday, I'd found my voice again and we had a great morning hanging out in the pool, lots of animated conversation and laughing and plenty of anecdotes from me.

Once back from LA, I knew that the decadence of the previous two months had to end, to be replaced with total focus on Arbonne. During August and September, there had only been one week when I'd not been getting on a plane and although the jet set life-style was great fun and I got to hang out with people who are very special to me, it meant that my life was too disjointed to give Arbonne any real commitment. Having set things up before and knowing how I work, I need to focus completely on something and create momentum early on otherwise it just doesn't work for me. I want to see results quickly, I want to get on with things and if I feel like I'm dithering around, I lose interest.

So the last two months have been work-focused and November in particular has been great. As with anything, the results you see are effort-based - the more you put in, the more you get out. It helps that the products are just so amazing and having been using them for about six months now, I can really see the difference in my skin. Someone thought I was 22 a few weeks back so something is definitely working!

The irony is that my best week so far was also the week that we had health scares with both Ami and Abi (my parents for anyone who doesn't recognise the Urdu terms). I think finally they're coming to terms with the fact that their health needs attention and by ignoring things, they are doing nothing to prolong life. Ami spent a week in hospital and had a bone marrow biopsy - we're just waiting for the results to see what's going on. It's been a worrying, stressful fortnight but at least I've had work to keep me busy and focused but still allow me the flexibility to spend time at the hospital when need be. The busier and more focused I am, the better I seem to deal with things so just as well I got things kicked into action when I did.

There's not much else to report. I'm still staying at the family home in Dulwich but it'll be time to move on soon, particularly as my friend Wilding who lives 2 streets away is moving out of the hood in a few weeks time and suddenly Dulwich will lose a large part of its appeal. We've had some great spontaneous sessions hanging out and he has become a most brilliant friend so it'll be sad when he goes but no doubt it will be the catalyst for me to move too, although I still have no idea where I want to live. I still love the Palace but I know I don't want to move back into my old flat, a case of life moving forwards not backwards. I'm sure something will pop up soon to entice me to a particular place in London....

Yoga

2009-09-14T13:36:00.000-07:00

I have done yoga on and off for the last seven years. By on and off I mean that I'll do it religiously every week and then stop for a year or two for some reason.

I stopped doing ashtanga yoga when I moved to Ibiza so a year and a half ago. I was going to start there but never got round to finding a good teacher locally. In my last month, I did loads of Bikram yoga which was great but I still prefer ashtanga.

I've recently returned to my Saturday morning yoga class. I'd been meaning to start up ever since moving back but the thing that really propelled me back to class was that I've been swimming a lot in the mornings and often I'd find that after a swim, my body literally ached to do yoga, to be stretched and lengthened again.

I went to class about six weeks ago. Fortunately my body didn't feel too tight and it didn't feel as if I'd gone backwards too much. My body is very unsupple, always has been, so any length of time away from regular yoga often makes a huge difference. But things seem to be okay. In fact, I found I got into positions I'd never been able to get into before - simply because I'd forgotten that I'd never been able to do them. I found myself in one position and then thought "hang on, I couldn't actually do this before..."

I've done a couple of classes since. My body feels completely different. More open and strong and I don't know why that is. Last Saturday I got into a headstand properly and held it for a minute without toppling. I've never been able to get into a headstand before, I've always positioned myself by a wall and flung my legs up onto the wall and then slowly, gingerly moved them away and tried to keep my balance. But this time I managed it. You have to have fairly strong stomach muscles to be able to get into the position - maybe all those stomach crunches have made a difference after all!

I was so excited by my progress (it only took seven years to do it!) that I told my older sister when I saw her later.

"I've done a headstand and I'm going to do a grasshopper next"

"What's that?" she asked.

I went to demonstrate it and got into the position. I could only hold it for about a second before I toppled backwards but I still did it. That meant two firsts in one day - result!

This is one of the things I love about yoga. I am constantly making progress but it is millimetre by millimetre. And for someone as impatient as me, I'm surprised that I don't get frustrated by my slow progress. But I know that is because my body can only do what it can do. If I try and force it into something it's not ready to do, I'll get hurt. For someone in such a hurry to get every where and do every thing, it's good to have something where I make gentle progress but it's always a huge sense of achievement!

My dad's operation

2009-09-11T11:59:00.001-07:00

My dad had total knee replacement surgery a few weeks ago. He's 81 and it was the first time he'd ever stayed in hospital. He wasn't even born in a hospital so it must have been quite a strange experience for him. He came out a week later and is now recovering at home and hopefully he'll be fully recovered soon and able to resume normal life.

I'm not sure how my dad felt about going into hospital or having the operation. We don't talk emotions in my family, which is a little strange for me because I do. But the whole experience seems to have aged him about two decades so he now looks like the old man that he is, as opposed to the young whippersnapper that I always think of him of. It looks like he's shrunk and I'm wondering where his spirit is, I really just want him to be back to how he was before....

Watching your parents age in front of you is no easy thing. I remember last year when I was back from Ibiza for the Luxury Travel Fair, staying at my parents place. Me and my dad left the house at the same time and walked round towards the bus stop together. As we got to the zebra crossing his bus was coming so he ran to get the bus and as I crossed the road, I turned to watch him. It suddenly struck me that his shoulders were no longer straight, he was completely dipped on the right hand side because of his bad knee. A few months ago his knee was causing him so much pain he had to start walking using a walking stick. I think my dad must have found this really difficult as it's a sign of getting older and he's not into the ageing process. I remember the first time I saw him walk with that stick, I caught my breath - suddenly my dad looked like an old man.

I'm not sure how my dad's operation has affected anyone in the family, him included. All I know is how I've felt about it. The day my dad was having his operation I was flying up to Edinburgh for the night. At the back of my mind was the thought of how quickly I could get back if anything went wrong. Perhaps a better daughter wouldn't have gone at all and I found myself grappling with guilt but I went, staying in contact by phone before, during and after his operation. The thing that worried me was not the operation itself but his age. Does getting better get harder as you get older?

When I got back from Edinburgh the next day, my mum said "your dad's doing so much better already. They've taken his oxygen mask and drip off!" (obviously this would have been said in Urdu, she doesn't talk in English to me). When she said this, I realised going to Edinburgh was the best thing I could have done as if I'd been there the day of the op, I would have gone straight to the hospital and seeing my dad with an oxygen mask and drip would have hit me quite badly. I hate hospitals anyway, hate seeing people in pain or suffering. I remember when I was a kid and my dad still used to work evenings in Macey's chemist. One time when he was at work, someone came into the chemists to rob them I think. My dad got hit in the face and his glasses were broken. My mum told us what had happened and I went and hid in my room, sobbing all night about someone hurting my dad. I've never been a daddy's girl but I am very close to him, always have been.

I went to see my dad the day after I got back from Edinburgh. In my head, he'd be up in his bed all chipper and cheeky and joking with the nurses. What I saw was an old man who looked like he'd shrunk, he looked frail and feeble and vulnerable. He wasn't eating properly as he didn't like the hospital food - I didn't blame him, it looked pretty dreadful to me. I went with Rahila my older sister and as she's a doctor, she grilled the hospital staff on how my dad was doing. They told her that he'd taken a fall in the night. He'd failed to mention it to us himself. He'd got up in the night to use the bathroom and instead of calling someone to help him, my independent dad decided to go alone with his zimmer frame. Somewhere on the floor there was water and he slipped. I don't know how long he was there before someone found him but we had to tell him off for going alone in the first place. But I guess it must be hard for him. His whole life everyone has depended on him, relied on him and he never likes to ask for help. He's fiercely proud of everything he's achieved alone and asking for help doesn't seem to come naturally to him (I can see where I get it from then!)

I found that first visit to the hospital really difficult. For my dad hours lying in a hospital bed may make him think of his own mortality. Going to see him in hospital made me think of his mortality. I felt horribly strange afterwards, it's not something I like to think about. By chance I was seeing my friend Wilding after the hospital. Somehow, since moving back to London, Wilding has become one of my closest friends and he's one of the two friends I've seen the most since getting back. He was a good person to see because I knew I could say or feel anything with him, if I'd wanted to cry he wouldn't have got embarrassed or uncomfortable by my tears. This is progress for me as I'm usually so intensely private with my innermost feelings so good to know that I'm now more comfortable talking about things.

The next day I went to see my dad again. I still found the hospital visit difficult. I got home drained - in the words of the Manics "you're tender and you're tired". The week of my dad's operation I had nothing planned socially apart from the trip to Edinburgh. This was a good thing as I found things hard and I would have cancelled all social plans. As usual I didn't give any thought to how I might feel about this all but maybe there's no point doing that as one of the things I've really learnt about myself over the years is that I can't pre-empt how I'll be feeling about anything. I didn't expect to be knocked sideways as much as I was by seeing my dad in hospital. That evening I had two choices - stay home or get dragged out by Wilding for a drink. I went for the latter option - at least I knew that if I wanted to talk about stuff, I'd have someone who I felt really safe and comfortable with to talk to. As it was I was okay and we had fun, cooing over a puppy called Willis that the owners had brought to the bar with them. We must have been cooing a lot as they came over and plopped the puppy on my lap for a while and that was kind of cute and cheered me up no end.

On our way home (we live two streets away from each other), we stopped off at the chip shop. The chip shop is a couple of doors up from Macey Chemists where my dad used to work in the late 60s and early 70s. I got chatting to the chip shop owner and asked him how long he'd had that shop. Thirteen years he said. I then asked him if he knew my dad (my dad is pretty famous in Dulwich and Peckham). He did. I got excited that he knew my dad - it made me realise that my dad has this total other life as he wheels through Dulwich and Peckham that we know nothing about - I can imagine him in it but I've never seen it. I told the man about my dad's operation and I was touched when he asked me to pass on his best wishes to my dad, it seems like lots of other people care about my dad too.

Funnily enough, when I started this post I was feeling a bit wobbly about my dad (although he is doing much better and will soon be fully recovered). Now I feel a lot better - writing always seems to help so much. I guess I just need to capture somewhere what's going on inside. A few years ago when I had the launch party for my interiors business, I did a little speech and at the end, in front of about 250 people (mostly friends and close family) I did a very big thank you to my dad. He had no idea I was going to say what I said, nor did anyone else in that room. It was an emotional moment, not just for me but for everyone listening. I had people come up to me afterwards saying "I've always wanted to say what you've just said..." It was one of those goosebump, lump in the throat moments - I could barely talk at the end and had to quickly put a record on. But my dad has been amazing to me. He's allowed me to be the person I am, even if I've been doing things that the wider Pakistani community would frown upon. He's been on my side and supported me, even when he's been completely baffled by some of the things I've chosen to do, some of the paths I've merrily skipped along.

I remember when I was 16 I got a job in the Crown and Greyhound in Dulwich Village. You can probably guess by the name that it's a pub and I come from a good, respectable muslim family. I was working in the restaurant and not allowed to even serve an alcoholic drink as I was under-age but still, muslim girl working in a pub doesn't really go down too well. Naturally I kept the actual location of my workplace a secret from the family, just telling them that I had a job in a restaurant in Dulwich Village. One day my dad said he'd give me a lift to work. As we got into Dulwich Village, I said "you can drop me off here". He carried on driving and pulled up right outside the pub. It went quiet in the car and I waited for the bollocking. It never came. Instead my dad said to me "I know where you work and that's fine with me. But you know how the Pakistani community likes to talk so probably best to keep your work place quiet from everyone..." As Pakistani dads go (particularly as this was in the mid-eighties), this was pretty progressive, forward-thinking. I'm not sure why he's always given me the freedom to do what I've wanted. Maybe he saw that I would do it anyway so might as well support it instead of trying to control me. I've really lucked out with my dad and I will be eternally grateful for that. And now I'm just waiting for him to be better enough to start break dancing again!

My parents and Arbonne....

2009-07-20T19:27:00.000-07:00

As I'm still staying at my parents place in Dulwich, they've watched my little fledgling enterprise get started. On their part, this has consisted of taking the deliveries of my stuff and watching it take over the reception room that I've turned into my makeshift office.

I was trying to get them to use the products and tried talking my dad into using the eye cream. Even though he's 81, he still likes to feel like a young whippersnapper, still puts Grecian 2000 into his hair (although there isn't actually much hair left) and still dresses like a dapper gent. I thought he'd be into using a cream that helped get rid of the lines around his eyes but he told me that he doesn't use anything and that was the end of that.

Then the other day, I was sat on the bus next to my mum and she saw me get out the Arbonne handcream and put that on. She smelt it and commented on how lovely it smelt. I told her I'd give her one of the mini samples of hand cream I had at home.

After this, my dad asked me how this whole business worked. When I explained that all the products I had were samples, not for sale, and that I introduced the range to people by getting them to try the products for a few days, he looked interested. Later he came into my "office" and loitered without saying much. This is his way of telling you that he wants to talk. And he said, "well if everyone is trying these products, I'll try them too!" I laughed, my dad has never been into products. So I'm going to give him an eye cream and the body serum to use on his feet to keep the skin soft. He looked very pleased with himself when he wandered out of the room.

A minute later, my mum came bustling in asking for her hand cream. I got one out and gave it to her. She opened it, smelt it and then said "can I use this on my face too?" She, also, has never been into skin care products. I explained that it was only for hands and there was another cream for the face that I'd get for her. I think they're rather excited about these lovely new products coming their way. If they like them, I'll just carry on buying them for them, they would never pay that much themselves. I was thinking about it the other day and it made me chuckle, I could just see my dad saying with immense pride "I'm a bargain hunter!". In his world you'd never pay £25 for a cream when you can buy a cream for £1 in Lidl or Netto, even if they are a world apart in quality. Or even better, I could see him saying "I'm a pharmacist, I recognise these ingredients, I can make this myself!" and then he'd be off on some tangent about starting his new skin care business, making products using the recipes from my products....

Sleep....

2009-07-20T18:55:00.000-07:00

It's nearly 3 in the morning and I've been awake for at least half an hour, maybe longer. I only went to bed at midnight so there's no way I've had enough sleep. The chances of nodding off again at the moment are pretty slim so that's why I'm blogging from bed and doing something I absolutely love - listening to some of my favourite songs on the iPod in bed! This activity will do nothing to help me get back to sleep as I get so excited doing it that I usually end up dancing (or doing a little jig) in bed, instead of trying to lull myself to sleep.

I know why I'm awake so early, it's all to do with adrenaline. In a way, it's a good sign as it means my dodgy adrenals are working well for the time being. It does however mean that any hint of excitement in my life and I'm like Tigger on an overdose of coffee, literally bouncing around all over the place. And waking up very early although this is a record. Normally it's around four in the morning. After a few months of life feeling a bit strange, I think the tide has turned and it feels brilliant! I'm excited about the new Arbonne business and am just getting on with it. I'm off to Camp Bestival in a few days and that feels like the homecoming after Ibiza. I've not been out properly since my return, not seen a lot of people so Camp Bestival is going to be the first time for me! There are a few other things bubbling away as possibilities but I'm keeping quiet about them for the time being - it could be just too much for me to cope with!

I have no idea how long the adrenaline surge will last. I need to remember to stop drinking coffee as that makes me worse when I'm like this. I just hope I don't keep waking up after a few hours sleep the rest of this week - I don't want to rock up to Camp Bestival and then burn out on my first night. I also don't want to have big dark circles under my eyes. The Arbonne eye cream is a miracle cure for dark circles but even that can't help me at present - I've been waking up very early a lot recently.

What Azra did next...

2009-07-19T01:02:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been over two months since my last post. The longest I'd ever left if before was about three weeks so that's quite a gap. A lot has happened in that time so guess I'll jot in down here...

In my last post I talked about my desire to write a novel. I've finished my creative writing course and to be honest it was not very good. That may just have been the teacher but I didn't feel like I learnt anything and certainly not how to write creatively. Maybe I just can't write fiction, everything I wrote was based on my own personal experiences. I had really hoped to learn how to put together compelling stories and plots and create characters but I feel no closer to this than when I first started. However, this much I know - I'm not creative unless I'm feeling fairly happy in my life and as the last few months have been full of uncertainty, the atmosphere has not been conducive to creating anything. I haven't given up on the writing, maybe I can write fiction in different circumstances but at present, nothing is coming. Or it may be that I can only write based on personal experience and I'm just not ready to do a memoir-style thing (and nor do I want to). I'll give it another go later!

I also spoke about having no idea what my life was going to be like in London again. I certainly didn't expect to be doing what I've started doing but then I never do the expected, whatever that may be. I've just set up another business, this time a botanically-based skin care business. I always thought that if I set up another business, I'd do products as opposed to a service that I offer. The problem with a service is that you're capped on what you can earn, you can't duplicate yourself or work more hours than there are in the day and you get to a point and then get stuck. I've spoken to other freelance people and many of them echo this very same thing.

The products are from a company called Arbonne, Swiss-formulated and made in the States. The products were launched in the UK in November 2007 and will never be found in retail outlets so it's up to Consultants like me to spread the good word (and they are amazing!). They are chemical-free, paraben-free and don't contain any animal by-products (the collagen that is put into cosmetics and skin care to plump things up is made from chicken's feet - yuk!). It's all happened very unexpectedly and it's been a steep learning curve taking in all this new information, particularly detailed information about the skin care industry.

Now that I've got started and am on my way, I'm pretty excited about this. However, there was a point about two weeks ago when it felt like a petulant child had a raging tantrum in my head. For two days. At one point it got so bad I had to go for a run to try and get rid of it! I've always pushed myself, had high expectations (sometimes too high and it can be a pain as no-one else has any expectations of me) and followed my heart, usually making brave bold moves that others would perhaps think about for 5 seconds and then leave, the prospect of that leap being too much to fathom. Well, I'm the person who would always make that leap, go for the thing that no-one would do! That's what happens when you follow your heart, you end up doing crazy things as it feels right and you have no other way of making decisions as you've always followed your heart, always done what feels right, even if it seems totally bonkers!

This decision was not based on anything going on in my heart, I didn't have any sort of feeling about it apart from "well nothing else has fallen into place so far, lets give it a go...". But once I did, my petulant child raged, tormenting myself about making a decision to do something that anyone could do - for all intents and purposes, anyone could set up an Arbonne business. There's a formula that you follow, you feel like a sheep and at times it has felt like the blind leading the blind. There are certain aspects I have not been impressed with but that's made me determined to do it better myself, particularly when putting together my own team. Anyway, I let the child rage for 2 days and then came to terms with why I had made this decision - I've led an amazing life, had fantastic experiences and done more so far than some people will do in their lifetime. But at no point did I ever think of financial security or stability - that's all far too sensible for me and I figured it would just happen (I think I always thought I would marry it which in itself it quite a scary prospect....). So apart from buying a flat when properties were still dirt cheap, I have no financial security at all. If I don't work there is no money - I may have done amazing things but I haven't built anything to carry on earning, even when I'm doing something else!

So, that's what Arbonne is about for me. I've set some new goals - I'd like a house in London and a house in Ibiza. I assumed that these things would come into my life along with a husband so I never made them personal goals. Regardless of what happens in my private life, if having a house is important (and it is), then I need to find some way of making it happen! Onwards and upwards!

I feel like I can come out of my enforced hibernation now. Well I have to in order to start spreading the Arbonne word! I've hidden away the last few months, I'm like that when I'm not sure what's going on. I've seen a couple of very good friends regularly and they have kept me feeling chipper during the past few months! I'm going to blog more, particularly as I think it will be a good way to chart my Arbonne progress and success!

From London to Ibiza and back.....

2009-05-11T05:15:00.000-07:00

I'm just about to send one of my email updates to let everyone know that I'm back in London again. Normally I'd provide an update on what's been going on but the last update was done nearly two years ago (when I announced I was moving to Ibiza), there would be a lot of stuff to put in an email and seeing that I have a blog, I figured the best place for an overview of my time in Ibiza should be here and I can provide a link to this post in my email. So anyone who'd like a brief encounter with my Ibizan experience, read on. Anyone who'd like to read in more detail, most things are posted somewhere here on the blog.

Back in June 2007, I sent an email update announcing to my world that I had decided to move myself and my interiors business to Ibiza at the beginning of 2008. I was coming to a stage where I felt like I wanted a really big change and I'd wanted to live on the island ever since I first visited in 2002 so the decision was made in about 5 minutes. I was a third of the way into a one-year contract consulting at the British Ukrainian Society and decided to move once the contract ended. I'd also been juggling interiors with the consulting and found it difficult to give one hundred percent to both things so decided to focus solely on the Society for the rest of my time in London. It was in a fledgling stage, having only been launched in the UK and I wanted to ensure there were strong foundations for a successful organisation before I moved to island life.

When I first started at the Society, I was concerned about whether I could give another project as much as I had given my own interiors business. I needn't have worried as somewhere along the line something magical happened and I loved the challenge of the project. From this immense high, I left London in early February 2008 to move to Ibiza, turning up alone, not really knowing anyone, not speaking the language and not having any real work leads or contacts.

My life in Ibiza fell into 3-month cycles, each completely different. One of the things that instantly stands out with life in Ibiza is how intense it can be, each quarter felt like a year, not three months. You find yourself in situations that you have never encountered before, even if you've lived overseas already. Things have the ability to go from one extreme to another in the blink of an eye and you have no idea what's around the corner. Amazing opportunities can crumble in front of you in a matter of weeks and the most heart-warming situations can turn to heartbreak overnight. There seems to be a constant ebb and flow to island life.

The first three months were bliss, even though I was living in a rundown house with little hot water or electricity but the surroundings were stunning and it made up for any lack. I soon found solutions to the problem of not being able to take a shower properly or use a hairdryer (join the local swimming pool and swim six times a week). Life in those first few weeks involved trying to do things I took for granted in London (shopping, going to the post office) in a place where you didn't know where anything was and everyone spoke Spanish. But it's amazing how quickly you learn and adapt and start striking out on your own again. I remember the immense sense of achievement when I went and bought fire for the wood burner the first time by myself. Sadly I didn't see that much success in actually lighting the fire so ended up giving myself the job of cleaning the fire before it was re-lit. I eased myself into getting used to my new surroundings, started learning Spanish and after a few weeks of taking it easy, started looking for work.

The plan of action in a place where I had no contacts was to get some cards made up with photos of past projects and distribute these all over the island, including all the main estate agents. I was quickly contacted by an independent estate agent John who went out of his way to see how he could help me, putting me in touch with a few of his contacts. One seemed particularly interesting, a guy called Alberto who'd been working on the island with his wife for about a decade, doing up and renting out villas. They'd also recently opened up an interiors shop and John said that they always had more work than they could handle. I had to contact Alberto once he was back from his latest buying spree in Morocco but before I had the chance to get in touch, we met by accident in the street.

During the second quarter, I started doing bits and pieces of work for Alberto. They were getting ready to open some luxury villas in Bali and needed help with research for the project. I also started helping out with their work on the island - Alberto likes to keep a tight team so everyone gets involved during the busy summer season. During this time I also secured some writing work, doing a monthly interiors article for the main English-language magazine on the island. Things were starting to move in the right direction as far as work was concerned but it was a difficult time as I found myself quite homesick and missing everyone in London and not entirely sure if the move I made had been the right one. However a pair of cheeky kittens had come into my life and made it their sole responsibility to keep me laughing and happy at all times. They'd been born to one of the cats at the house and as my housemate Bea didn't like cats, I took on the responsibility of looking after the five kittens and the mother cat (who was barely a kitten herself). I wasn't planning on keeping a kitten myself but one day, when they were about four weeks old and starting to clamber all over the place, getting cuter and cuter and more and more mischievious by the day, one of the kittens looked over at me with his big soulful eyes and I thought "I think I'm going to have to keep you!". Then I didn't want him to get lonely so I kept the youngest one too and the comedy pair had me constantly amused with their hilarious antics.

At the end of six months, I came back to London for my brother's wedding still unsure about whether I wanted to be in Ibiza or back in London. But once back in the city, I made the decision that I did want to live on the island and the focus would be about finding enough work to enable me to live there.

The third quarter started with the firm decision about wanting to live on the island. I'd made some lovely friends there and Alberto had enough work for me for at least another month. The short stint back in London had cured me of my homesickness as I'd been able to see friends and family and I was raring to get back and get on with things. But just before I returned to the island, I had a text to say my two kittens had died in the week I'd been away. I returned to the island absolutely heart-broken and cried more than I've ever cried before. I'm still baffled by what happened but as my housemate was meant to be looking after them while I was away, I decided it was time to find somewhere new to live. Also out of the blue, Alberto offered me full-time work running the interiors shop and doing the sales and marketing for another of their projects, a luxury boutique hotel in Marrakech. This was in addition to working on the Bali project and some other projects in the pipeline. I moved close to work and a new chapter took off.

It was all about work. Things moved in leaps and bounds and I found myself with the exciting challenge I'd been looking for. I threw myself into it, working six days a week bringing a bit of order to an otherwise chaotic organisation. It felt like I'd found the natural successor to my work at teh Society as the challenge was immense but so was the opportunity. The end of the third quarter found me back in London again for my godsons' first birthday. As soon as I arrived back, it was like I'd never been away. It felt as if I had two lives, one in London, the other in Ibiza and I belonged in both places. This concept of two lives is familiar to me, I've grown up with two very different cultures, my work has been about two very different things and now I had a life in two different places. During this trip, London captured me again and I found myself starting to think about moving back again, maybe in a year or two.

The last quarter was still about work but things changed dramatically. I'd been busy raising the profile of the Harissa Collection (the collective name for all of Alberto's different projects) in the UK but when it was time to deliver, things remained chaotic. There were a number of occasions where I found myself with my head in my hands thinking "I can't believe this is happening.....". The work is amazing but there are too many projects going on simultaneously, spanning three continents, for all things to receive adequate attention. The entire team is tiny with Alberto and Yvonne in strict control of everything so not really much room for independent thought. I soon realised that I'd taken things as far as I could working with them and decided that perhaps it was time to head back to London. My last month on the island was bliss. I finished work sooner than expected but that meant time to make the most of the island, see friends and throw myself into intensive Spanish lessons. It was the perfect way to end my sabbatical in Ibiza.

When I decided to move to Ibiza, I had no idea why I was going, apart from the fact that I'd dreamed to living there ever since I first visited in 2002. I had no idea how long I would stay or what sort of life I would find. All I knew was that I wanted to go, wanted a change of scene and a different quality of life and answers would present themselves to me at the appropriate time. As I wound up work, I found myself awake very early one morning. I lay there thinking about my move to Ibiza and my imminent move back to London. It dawned on me that the main reason I moved was to see if I could do it, if I could move to another country all alone, where I didn't really know anyone or have any contacts or work leads or speak the language and see if I could make a go of it. I'm fascinated by the journeys that people make in search of something new, something better, uprooting themselves from one place and starting a new life somewhere else.

For the last few years, I've been acutely aware of some of the journeys that my parents have made in search of a better life. From the move from India to Pakistan during the harrowing period of partition on to a new life in London. When my parents got married, my mum was in Pakistan and my dad was in Great Britain. They'd never met and got married over the phone and then my mum got on a plane for the first time in her life to go to an alien country to meet her husband, a complete stranger. It was fine as my dad is a wonderful person but after talking to my mum about this, I've often wondered if I'd have the courage to do something like this but the thought of marrying a stranger is such a strange concept to me that I can't really comprehend it.

A part of me did wonder if I could turn up alone in a new place and make a go of it. I was curious to see if I had that intrepid gene or whether it had disappeared in a comfortable life in London. I'd already lived overseas three times before but all three times had been more organised - I was going for a reason, I had something to do when I arrived, I was expected. When I moved to Ibiza, there was nothing in place apart from somewhere to stay as soon as I got there. It was up to me to create my experience. And I have to say, there is something quite wonderful about taking your whole life, throwing it up in the air and seeing how it lands. The year away injected a breath of fresh air into my life - new experiences, new places, new people, a new language.

Life back in London is still an unknown for me, I have no idea what this coming chapter holds. One thing I do know I'd like to do is write a novel. I don't know what the story will be but I think it will span continents and generations. Apart from that, it's the usual work and play scenario and looking at London with a fresh pair of eyes. I think time away from this great city does that to you!

London Book Fair

2009-04-22T11:09:00.000-07:00

I've spent the last couple of days at the London Book Fair at Earls Court. There were some interesting seminars on, with the focus country being India. I don't know if the British Council had chosen India before Slumdog Millionaire came out in the cinemas but it seems like this is the country to watch at the moment.

I had the opportunity to listen to a Q & A session with Vikram Seth, the author of "A Suitable Boy". He was speaking about his last book "Two Lives" which I read last year. It is a fantastic book, a biography of his great-uncle and great-aunt and their experiences in Germany during the Second World War. I don't usually like biographies or autobiographies, often they are crammed full of tiny bits of information that bear little importance but the writer feels the need to put in everything, instead of choosing the best bits. "Two Lives" was a world away from this and really was a joy to read. The Q & A session was equally enjoyable.

I then went on to a seminar on how to reach the ethnic millions in the UK. At times this veered into "the British publishing world is full of white middle-class people and there should be some positive discrimination to get some brown faces in". I struggle with things like this. As far as I'm concerned (particularly in London), the opportunities are out there, regardless of colour, creed, race or gender. If you are professional and hard-working and have the right attitude, then there are few barriers in the way, unless of course you choose to construct some yourself. OK, there might be some industries that still remain quite "white" but I think that has as much to do with them not being so popular with ethnic minorities - if you look at other professions like medicine or dentistry, the numbers are more balanced. I'm uncomfortable with the liberal attitude to positive discrimination - someone getting a job because of the colour of their skin as opposed to merit and ability. Most jobs I've worked in I've been the only "brown" face in an otherwise sea of white, it's never been a problem. What matters most is my ability to do the job and that has nothing to do with the colour of my skin.

Sometimes ethnic minorities get too caught up in their victim mentality, if anything bad happens, it's because of the colour of their skin, no other reason. I remember listening to a family friend last Christmas. He was moaning about the fact that it was so difficult for muslims to progress and do well in this country. When I pointed out that I'd had some fantastic opportunities and had done well, he answered back "well not everyone's as pushy as you!". At this point I think I snorted. Being driven and determined has helped me to succeed but anything I've achieved is down to me being pushy! As I've long suspected, this particular uncle has a big chip on his shoulder and no matter what you say, he'll always see things from the victim's stance.

I went to a panel discussion this morning about India called "Through Fresh Eyes - Literature of Ideas". The panel comprised of emminent Indian writers, mostly non-fiction. It was a fascinating debate, one that brought language to the forefront. Most Indian writers who are read in the Western world write in English. This automatically means that this will be the elite - how much real understanding will they have of other worlds, other lives if they move in elite, priveliged circles? People writing in any of the native Indian languages rarely see their work translated to reach a wider audience so the snapshot we see of the country just touches the tip of the iceberg.

Recently I've started reading books by Pakistani writers that were written in Urdu and translated. The thing that struck me was how clumsy the language seemed. I've read many South Asian writers (who write in English) and their beautiful command of the language is a joy to behold. But these translations felt chunky and clunky. Maybe that is the problem with countries where English is spoken and written as much as the native languages (but only by the most highly-educated). Books will be published that have been written in English so the art of translation is lost or certainly it suffers. I thought of other foreign writers I've read who've written in their mother language and the book has then been translated - very few of these writers seem to suffer the same problem. It's also difficult to get the educated elite to embrace the native language instead of English as speaking English is seen as being so much more sophisticated. I always find it amusing when native Indians or Pakistanis talk amongst themselves in English, when another language is their mother tongue.

I was thinking about language earlier this week. My strongest language is English but the first language I spoke would have been Urdu. I still speak Urdu to my parents and family members of their generation. Where did I learn to speak English and from whom? I wouldn't have learnt it from my parents so did I learn it from the television? Or did I start school not speaking English? I've always thought it an advantage to have grown up bilingual. I'm sure it's helped me when I've been in a foreign country, immersed in learning a new language. But sometimes I wonder if these early bilingual days are a hinderance to my capabilities in English? If I'd grown up speaking only one language, would my command and ability have been much higher? I have friends who are writers and I'm always struck by how beautifully they use words and language. I asked one what his secret was and the answer? Practice! So I guess there is hope for me with the language I'd love to deploy magically, all I have to do is use it! And perhaps read a dictionary from time to time!

London Book Fair Masterclass - How To Get Published

2009-04-18T09:40:00.000-07:00

The London Book Fair 2009 kicks off from Monday at Earls Court. There are some great seminars and workshops so I've decided to go along as a budding author.

This morning I went the a Masterclass titled "How To Get Published". I arrived early, maybe an hour before the doors opened. I hadn't registered in advance and wanted to make sure that I was able to get a seat. A handful of people were already milling outside the entrance doors by the time I arrived. The milling crowd were instructed to form an orderly line and by the time the doors opened, a long snake of people weaved its way around the building.

Once in and registered, we could go upstairs for coffee and pastries. I stood in the room and watched people coming in, trying to see if I could spot someone who might be the next big thing in publishing. I don't know what I was looking for but I thought if I looked hard enough, I might spot some magical quality. I didn't but it was fantastic to see the room filling up with people from all walks of life, all ages - all with one common purpose - the desire to be published.

After coffee and people-watching, I went into the conference room and made my way to the front. All the prime seats were already taken so I plumped for the second row, in the middle, where I would have an excellent view of the panel guests. The room had capacity for over 500 people and by the time the event started, all the seats were filled, people sat with notepads and pens at the ready to glean any nuggets of gold from those that knew.

The panel was made up of a senior commissioning editor from Bloomsbury, the Co-Head of Books Department from United Agents and three authors. The industry voices kicked off, sharing sage advice on how to get published. The thing that struck me immediately was that both representatives absolutely loved books and loved what they did, they had a passion that was clear to see. I don't know why I was surprised by this. I get really excited by the work I do and can get very passionate about it but in general it seems that if people are genuinely excited about what they do, they tend to keep quiet about it. Or maybe most people end up in jobs that they're not that excited about and so can't inject any joy or enthusiasm into their voices when they talk about it. A lot of people I know are crazy about music but very few make it their world so it was great to hear from people who had turned passion into work.

After the industry experts, it was the turn of the authors. Once again, more tips on how to do it. I scribbled away furiously but realised that most things they said were applicable to anything you do, not just publishing. Having dived into interiors six years ago and learnt stacks along the way, the tips I heard were not new but it was brilliant to hear them all again for a completely different industry. I guess at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what you do as the fundamental lessons are the same. Here are the main qualities that were essential:

- be passionate about what you're doing
- remain excited and optimistic
- work hard, put in the energy
- remain professional
- no room for arrogance
- be patient
- you need stamina, it won't be an overnight thing
- do your research
- write every day
- believe in yourself
- practice and hone your skills
- have the courage to let things go if they don't fit in the book
- listen to your voice and write from the heart
- be strong enough to take the rough with the smooth
- need to have confidence in yourself
- do things to keep yourself strong, do not undermine yourself
- passion, passion, passion!
- and stacks of hard work!

I know I've repeated myself with the last two points but they really did drive this message home. When the seminar finished, I found myself buzzing. I don't know if this was caffeine or excitement (I think it was the latter) but the old guy sat next to me said "I saw you scribbling away. Did you find it useful?". And yes, I found it incredibly useful even if I heard key messages that I knew already from running my own business. The points above could be applied to anything you do, these qualities are essential to succeed in life! At least I know in advance a little of what to expect and when it comes to being optimistic and passionate, I know I'm okay there too! Now all I have to do is come up with an amazing story and hope that I'm a gifted writer!

I'm going to spend the early part of next week at the main book fair. It makes sense to immerse myself in the world I want to be a part of, particularly while I have some free time. I start my creative writing course on Monday evening so things are moving in the right direction and I'm very excited about writing a novel.

I've also been out enjoying the city the last few days. On Thursday I went along to a night that was part of "Land of Kings" - a 2-day festival all along Kingsland Road and Kingsland High Street. Although there were lots of different events, I just went to one where my friends Harry and Tayo were DJing. It was in this mad little venue below a brightly-lit yet empty restaurant. When you walked into the restaurant, you had no idea what lay below and after a bit of confusion where the girl sat in the restaurant directed me to the ladies toilets instead of the party, I found where I was meant to be. It was a "classics" night which meant that I knew most of the records which pleased me enormously. Of course I love hearing something amazing I've never heard before but sometimes it's good to hear a load of cheesy records that you know all the words to!

Yesterday I went to the South Bank to meet my friend Barbara for a coffee. We're old friends from my Foreign Office days but have always bonded over a love for silly accents, hilarious antics from our days working together (which still make us laugh all these years on) and a shared passion for what we're doing. I got up to the South Bank early and although it was grey and pouring with rain, the sound of a jazz band playing by Hungerford Bridge filled me with an enormous love for the city and put a big smile on my face. I went up to investigate the impromptu mini orchestra and found about five or six guys from South America, all playing away and entertaining the crowds, with one drumming a beat on what looked like a large plastic water container. People were milling around enjoying the music and one couple started doing a brilliant be-bop dance at the bottom of the stairs. I don't know if they were professional dancers but they had some slick moves going which all added to the entertainment.

Barbara and I met and went up to the cafe in the Royal Festival Hall for coffee, cake and a catch-up. While we talked, the orchestra that was going to be putting on a free concert at 7pm tuned up and got ready. It was none other that the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra from Venezuela (Barbara had already seen them on Wednesday), the orchestra made up of former street kids that had wowed the proms back in 2007. I remember hearing about this amazing orchestra at the time and as luck would have it, I got to see them by chance. They were excellent and after playing some classical pieces, moved onto more Latin-inspired music where they really came to life. Whole sections of the orchestra would get up and dance around, there was an enthusiasm and energy that was infectious and even the rather reserved English audience started tapping their toes and clapping. Some even whooped in joy (or maybe that was just me) and once again, I wished I could do one of those ear-piercing whistles but I've never mastered the art which perhaps is a good thing. I got the bus back home stil buzzing from what I'd seen and heard and the continuing rain did nothing to dampen my high spirits!

I'm off out again tonight, back to Kingsland Road for my friend Andy's party Discobox. He's teaming up with the boys from Lovebox, maybe they're having a box-off as I think they're all playing in the same room. Taking over the other room is original soul boy and house don Terry Farley. I haven't seen Terry since way before I moved to Ibiza so it will be good to go and say hi to old man Farley and see what gems he has in his record box. I can't have a late night though as I'm off to a Sunday sermon tomorrow morning. It's on Curiousity and the speaker is Robert Winston. I've heard it's been incredibly popular with over 400 people attending so a great success for the School of Life who organised it. I'll come back and fill in how the curious sermon is!

In London...

2009-04-11T14:51:00.000-07:00

It's been two weeks now since I arrived back in London properly. Although I got back a month ago, a week later I jetted off to Dallas for just over a week so the first two weeks still felt like I was in transit.

My blogging has taken a back seat of late but when I looked back over some of my posts from last year, I realised how valuable it is to keep writing, no matter what's going on. Writing in times of uncertainty are great when you can go back and look over how you were feeling, particularly when the situation has changed.

I feel like I'm in hibernation at the moment, preparing for the next chapter. I have no idea what that next chapter will be. I don't know where I'm going to be living or what I'm going to be doing. I'm currently staying at my parents' place in Dulwich. Location-wise it's great but I'm viewing it as a temporary arrangement. I may move back into my flat in Crystal Palace. I wasn't planning on doing this but my tenant seems to be gripped by some financial woes and ultimately my mortgage is my responsibility and I need to take care of it. Also with the mortgage market getting trashed last year (apparently 2 years ago there were over 200 mortgage providers, now there are only 15), there are no good deals for buy-to-let mortgages and it may make more sense to move back and get a good deal on a normal mortgage. I've started putting my interiors cards in local shops and will continue to do this in other places, as well as let all my friends and contacts know that I'm back in London. It would be good to do some consulting too. Previous work has come when I've been approached by consultants I've worked with in the past. I've heard that LinkedIn is a good platform for getting your experience out to a much wider audience so that's another thing on my to-do list.

I've kept a fairly low profile since getting back. Only a handful of my friends know that I'm actually back and even fewer have seen me since my return. It reminds me of when I was made redundant and I had a few months of not really knowing what I was doing. I kept a low profile then too, only coming back onto the scene when I had a big announcement to make, that I was moving into interiors. If you're going to make an announcement, might as well do something like a complete career change! My dad keeps asking me if I've got any interviews lined up and I've tried to explain that my previous consulting work has come to me, not the other way but I'm not entirely sure he gets what I mean. He's suggested going back to my Ukrainian job but I've told him a few times that my position has been filled by someone who's doing a fantastic job. I think deep down inside he wishes I'd never left the Foreign Office. He did suggest that the other day but it would mean reducing my earning potential by about two thirds and I'd be living in poverty!

In the past my current state of limbo would be causing no end of worry. But I gave up worrying at the start of this year, as my new year's resolution. Having awareness about potential situations and moving to prevent any negative outcomes is good. But worrying endlessly about what may or may not happen is a waste of time, makes you ill and has no benefit at all. So I've decided to give it up! I'm treating life at present as what it is, a little holding area where I can get ready for the next stage even if I don't know what that is. It's good to have a little quiet time every now and then. I've had the chance for reflection and taken action on the last epiphany I had in Ibiza (I had 3 in total while I was there which is quite a lot for a year) and read some books that help me make sense of the world.

Last week I read The Secret. Over the years, I've read a few personal development books but The Secret seemed to be filled with pearls of wisdom that I'd never read before. It's about the Law of Attraction and how you can manifest anything in your life, you just have to ask. You receive when you're in a state of happiness and joy and it is your responsibility to make sure you are. Reading that struck a chord. I often experience profound moments of joy and in that state, thinking about my life and what I may want in the future is infused with feelings of intense love. The key is to feel like this all the time and there are lots of ways this can be done. I found it interesting that things I'd written in my blog in the past are mentioned in The Secret - the importance of daily meditations and the daily practice of giving thanks for everything in your life so far. It talks a lot about love and encourages you to feel love for anything and everything. My ability to feel like I've fallen in love with strange things (working at the British Ukrainian Society, cats, a dog and a lamb in Ibiza, my property development project in 2006 and various people in a purely platonic sense) appears to be a good thing and I should carry on doing more of the same. It also drove the message home that in moments when I'm feeling a bit grumpy or down, I need to shift my mood as I can't generate positive vibes from a negative head space. All good stuff and I encourage you to read the book if you haven't done so already!

I've taken to running in beautiful Dulwich park. It's not the same as running on a deserted Cala Jondal beach but a good alternative option now that I'm back in the city. I'll add in some swimming and yoga soon too. I was hoping to do a 5K run in a couple of weeks but missed the deadline for application. I've carried on training as if I am doing the run and I was happy to do my first 5K run since getting back - that took place yesterday.

I start my creative writing course in a few weeks and with that my focus and attention will turn back to writing a novel. I know I want to write about partition and journeys that people make but further than that, I've yet to evolve a story. I'm sure the course will be excellent in helping me put together a compelling story. A friend asked me the other day if I missed Ibiza and I said no. But the truth is that I do miss it, miss the intense rugged beauty of the place and the wonderful friends I made there. But I know that the island and all my island friends are still there, a couple of hours plane ride away and it will only be a matter of time before I head back for a visit and to breathe in deeply everything I love about the place. Meanwhile the bright lights of London beckon, even in my hibernation!

The funny things that remind you of certain people....

2009-03-15T13:14:00.000-07:00

It might be a perfume, it might be a song but in the case of my lovely friend Carly, it's those slinky vest tops from Zara that remind me of her. I think she introduced me to them which is why I have such a strong connection between the two.

Carly's over in LA so I don't see her much but think of her often. Our birthdays are exactly six months apart so she is my half birthday soul sister. On my birthday a couple of weeks ago, her Facebook status said that she was thinking of her half birthday soul sister in London, wishing her a happy happy birthday and when I read that, it brought tears to my eyes - the smallest things mean the most.

As I slowly unpack the cases from my recent move back from Ibiza, I come across the slinky vest tops and immediately think of Carly. She's in Austin at the moment at SXSW no doubt having a fabulous time. It's been nearly four years since we last saw each other, I hope I see her again soon!

Where did that last month go?

2009-03-11T15:12:00.001-07:00

I just logged onto my blog and realised that the last post was written nearly a month ago. I wondered what I'd been doing over that time as I obviously hadn't been blogging but then I remembered that the last month has been a flurry of Spanish classes and homework, yoga and hanging out with friends and generally having a wonderful time before I left the island.

This now means I've got loads to write about. I had the big birthday nearly two weeks ago and it was wonderful, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend, hectic as it was. I also did another radio show the day before my birthday and loved it! This is something I would seriously like to do a lot more of, playing records I love and having a chat over the airwaves. I listened to the show again today for the first time and I just sounded so happy - when it comes to sharing music, I think I've found my calling!

I arrived back in London late last night after a 4-day journey over land and sea. It was eventful as journeys go. The first day I got the ferry from Ibiza to Denia and spent the first couple of hours out on the deck, lapping up the sunshine. Once on the mainland, I drove up to Valencia and started looking for a hotel while on the outskirts. I quickly spotted a neon blue sign indicating a hotel so I pulled over and tracked it down in the middle of a barren wasteland otherwise doubling as an industrial estate. Luckily they had rooms available and I made my way up to my room. There I found something a little unusual, something I'd never seen in a hotel before - an A4 sheet providing information on erotic holidays. I went back down to reception and a guest got into the lift wearing a silky short dressing gown. I did find myself thinking it a little strange to see guests in their dressing gowns but thought no more of it. I had to go out to the van to get some things and as I turned back towards the hotel and looked up to the large windows on the first floor I noticed a number of girls in similar slinky short dressing gowns that I'd already seen in the lift. Now my curiousity was aroused, what was going on at this hotel?

After dinner I nonchalantly wandered up to the first floor, acting as if I had some reason to be there. Girls were going in and out of the dining room, all heavily made up, all in those slinky gowns and all wearing those perpex killer heels favoured by strippers. There was a security guard sat outside the dining room and as soon as he saw me approach out of the lift, he started hovering above his seat, ready to escort away this person (me) who very obviously didn't belong on the first floor and had no reason to be there. I didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of being forced back into the lift so I just turned on my heels and left of my own accord. It would have been funny to have made a scene though. I didn't work out what was going on at that hotel, it was either a brothel or there was a strippers' convention taking place or maybe it had something to do with the erotic holidays. But the next morning as I left the hotel and started crawling along the road, trying to find my escape route out of industrial estate drudgery, I saw a girl tottering along the street and I think she may have been working! Well, there had to be some reason for her wearing a skirt so short it might as well have been a belt as it did absolutely nothing to cover her bum which was completely exposed for all to see.....

The next evening I arrived in Bilbao and spent about two hours looking for a hotel. The mission failed miserably, if there were hotels they were very badly signposted and parking seemed scarce. I drove up a number of tracks thinking there was a hotel at the end but I was misreading the signs. Once I drove up a track and then had to reverse out again, reversing up hill and navigating some tight turns. As I got to the end, I smelt an instantly recognisable smell - the distinct acrid odour of my clutch going. However I knew that if this happens, you just have to switch off the engine and sit there for an hour or so and the clutch usually returns to normal. I did this and then drove off again, my sensors on paranoid alert for that smell again even though I definitely did not want to encouner it again as that would have meant a lot of trouble. I spent a little while longer looking for the elusive hotels and then gave up, found a good spot to park, dragged my quilt out of the back of the van and set up camp for the night. This involved sleeping in the front of the van. I half expected to hear a little tap on the window at some point as the Guardia Civil or an upstanding member of the community came to tell me I couldn't sleep there but thankfully everyone left me in peace to have an okay night of sleep that reminded me of sleeping on a plane....

The ferry from Bilbao to Portsmouth was long and boring. I got seasick just as I was contemplating dinner and ended up having to make my way back to the cabin and collapse on the bed. I rose twelve hours later but felt much better and managed to have breakfast even though it wasn't really of a high gastronic calibre but it was a bit like being on a chav cruise ship so what was I to expect?

I'm now back in London, wondering what life back in London is going to be like? Only time will tell.....

Sweating it out at Bikram

2009-02-13T13:37:00.000-08:00

After dabbling with yoga as a university student, I took it up properly (ie every week) in 2002. I started doing ashtanga yoga and loved it from the start. Round about the same time, Bikram yoga was becoming popular in London and as I read more about this hot, sweaty yoga, I decided to give it a go. I think I went 3 or 4 times altogether. I would have liked to have done more but the only Bikram studios at the time were in north or west London and going after work, doing an hour and a half class and then getting showered and changed and back down to deepest, darkest south London soon put me off.

A little while ago, someone mentioned that there was a Bikram studio in Ibiza town. A quick search on Google (what would we do without Google now? I think I've lost the ability of tracking down information without it!) located the studio and I went earlier this week. My Spanish teacher Moly also goes to the studio and so we both rocked up to the class on Tuesday afternoon. I was somewhat unprepared as I'd forgotten how much you sweat and didn't bring a small towel with me, nor my yoga mat but at least I remembered to bring a bottle of water. As we waited for the class to begin, Moly said to me in Spanish "get ready to suffer" - I started to feel a bit nervous....

The teacher is a lovely French guy. When I signed in, he said the class is conducted in Spanish and I said "yes, that's fine" because by now I can converse quite well in the language. However, doing a yoga class where all the instructions are in Spanish is something else, particularly as I haven't learnt the parts of the body so half the time didn't know what he saying. So I did what I always do in this situation - identify the person who looks most advanced and I can see clearly without turning my head round too much and copy everything they do. If it'd been an ashtanga class conducted in Spanish, I probably would have been fine as I know the sequence fairly well and could just roll with it. Anyway, I didn't have to copy the others for too long as Sebastian (the teacher) very kindly started conducting the class in English as well as Spanish for the benefit of me.

The room was about 42 or 43 degrees. I don't think I've ever been in a room this hot and I started sweating even before the class had started. After a little while, I found myself getting dizzy - not helpful when you're doing a balancing pose and you keep wobbling and toppling over. The dizziness got so bad that I spent a large chunk of the middle of the class lying down but better that than passing out on my mat. When I did manage to get involved with the class again, I was so sweaty and slippery that it did get in the way a bit. Anyway, finally we got to the relaxation bit at the end and I could lay down and have a long rest, listening to some Oriental music. The music confused me a bit and as my mind wandered and I thought of leaving the class and saying thank you to the teacher, the Japanese for "thank you" kept popping into my head instead of Spanish. This is what happens when you have four foreign languages under your belt but have never specialised as a linguist!

The day after the class I ached all over and it felt like I had a big knot in my left shoulder blade. I normally have a constant knot on the right side so it felt a little strange to have it on the other side as well. I was going to go again for another class (I've got a special deal where I've paid 20 euros and can go as many times as I want for a week) but decided to leave it as my ability to move in a fluid manner had been hampered slightly.

I went again today (Friday) and am planning to go again on Sunday and Monday. Today's class was better. It wasn't so hot in the room and I didn't get dizzy or have to keep lying down. Excellent - this must mean I'm making progress! I'd still get light-headed and at one point it was quite bad and I kept stumbling around but soon regained my composure. Bikram doesn't have the dynamic aspect of ashtanga (I think everyone would have a seizure if it did due to the heat) so it doesn't feel like the class is moving along that quickly. But before I knew it, we were at the end doing the relaxation and listening to the tinkling Oriental music.

I had a quick shower and got ready to leave. Although I wasn't surging with energy, I didn't feel tired. Nor did I feel hungry and this surprised me a little. I was anticipating a gnawing hunger after the class but it didn't happen. I still haven't fallen in love with this yoga yet but doing two more classes over the next three days may seal the deal. I have noticed one thing though - all that sweating has left my skin feeling really soft! It feels great!

I thought that....

2009-02-12T04:23:00.000-08:00

....not working would have meant that I would be blogging every day. But as you can see, it's not happened. Time has been taken up with lots of Spanish (4 times a week), running, swimming, yoga, entertaining visiting friends, hanging out with island friends, looking after 3 cats and living in a gorgeous 5-bedroom villa while cat-sitting!

I'm 2 weeks away from moving back to London and feeling pretty excited about it! People here keep asking how I feel about moving back and yes, I'm excited! I'm looking forward to getting back and the start of the next adventure. It's my birthday weekend as soon as I get back so I've 3 days of running around seeing friends, celebrating my birthday and also doing a radio show on the Saturday morning where I'll be doing "A decade on the dancefloor" - just hope I can locate my records! I think they're in my parents' attic.

There is a sort of plan for when I move back. I want to write a novel so I've decided to spend the next year on that, working part-time so I've got time to research and write. At the moment, I'm trying to organise trips to Karachi, Dallas and Toronto so I can start the research process. More details on the novel in another post (I always promise to come back and write about things but I never do. However, this is one thing that I will be writing about!). I'm doing a creative writing course from the 20th April so all the travelling needs to be fitted in before then.

More on all of this later, now I've got to go and have an island lunch with a friend. The good-byes have started.....

A lot's happened...

2009-01-27T22:12:00.000-08:00

I glanced over my last two posts and realised that I'd started both with "a lot's happened" and then I'd add in a framework of time. Although it was an accident to begin both this way, it pretty much sums up Ibiza - a lot seems to happen in a very short space of time. Things can go from one extreme to another in a matter of days, hours even. I wonder if this has something to do with the microclimate enjoyed by the island - a blistering hot day can turn into torrential downpours in the blink of an eye. My friends Ruby and Jenna have just been over to the island for a short visit. I last saw them three weeks ago when we all met for lunch in London. As we caught up on our respective three weeks, once again there was that realisation that we'd all lived about three months in three weeks, not one of us had a start to the year that could be described as "normal" - whatever normal may be.....

Yesterday as I read over my post from two weeks ago, there was that happy sensation that things had changed so much since that time. It had been written literally as soon as I'd had the weird conversation with A where he'd told me that there was no more work after the end of the week. It had been a pretty horrible atmosphere and after that conversation, I actually felt sick but had to carry on with my work as there was lots to do. I decided to move out of the villa as soon as possible as it would have been strange to carry on staying there once work had finished. I had nowhere to go but knew that things would work out as they were meant to work out. Towards the end of the week, things started to improve in terms of the atmosphere at work. The thing that really seemed to help is that since coming back from London, I'd been working alongside Y and she has a far calmer energy than A. We sat side by side and ploughed through stacks of work on the different websites. With A, one minute I'd be doing one thing, the next minute something else. There was lots of talk about the different things he wanted me to do but never the time to explain things so I could take over properly. Working with Y, I kept my head down and just got on with things.

On the Thursday, A told me he wasn't going to charge me for staying at the villa but by then, my friends George and Will had come to the rescue and helped me out. And to be honest, I thought it would probably be better if I went and stayed somewhere else for the last bit of my time in Ibiza. I know it's a hassle having to move again but I've come to the conclusion that Cala Carbo is like the Bermuda triangle, it's very easy to get sucked in and never leave again! The place is opposite Es Vedra, the third most magnetic place in the world. Es Vedra is like a huge majestic sculpture that looms out of the sea and it's true, you can feel the energy when you're in front of it. But to live right opposite it (as I was in the villa) can be too much energy that draws you in. I thought it better to escape while I could!

The next night, as I was rushing to finish my work and go and look at the beach house I was going to move into, A had an impromptu chat with me. It wasn't what I was expecting at all but I'm so glad we had that talk. Basically we had an honest, frank conversation about me leaving. We could both explain our positions from a calm, rational place and understand things from the other person's perspective - it was a proper grown-up conversation. At the end, we both said "I'm so glad we've had that conversation" as neither of us wanted things to end badly but I was prepared to make the break once I left as I really didn't think they wanted any more to do with me. From the place I'd been in a few days earlier, I never thought for a minute that the week would end the way it did, in a wonderful amazing manner! Now I know that I'll be leaving A and Y as friends and I will continue to be a part of their lives, as they will mine and this to me means an immense amount. The other thing was that when we discussed my trip to Marrakech and the long report I wrote, I didn't think anything I had written would be given much consideration. A told me that he was going to implement everything I had mentioned (apart from one point where we agreed to disagree) and this was another fantastic result as I didn't think I had made any difference. Now it seems that perhaps I did!

Very quickly

2009-01-27T05:38:00.000-08:00

A lot's happened since my last post two weeks ago. I've moved into a lovely little beach house just by Cala Jondal and stopped working although there is still lots for me to do so I keep going back. Two weeks ago, I felt absolutely awful but that soon passed, things got a lot better and now things are great. I'm excited about the rest of my time in Ibiza, going round the island and spending time with people. I'm also really excited about going back to London. Things feel like they're falling into place, I know what I want to do when I go back. I had a bit of a realisation last week about why I came out here in the first place. There's lots to write about and I don't have time at the moment but I will come back in the next day or two and fill in the last two weeks.....

Oh dear......

2009-01-13T06:16:00.000-08:00

A lot's happened since my post last week. I had the conversation with A that I was moving back to London at the end of February and I thought it had gone okay. But later that day, he said two things to me. First he'd like me to pay to stay at the villa and also he didn't know if he had enough work for me to keep me busy in February. I was welcome to stay at the villa til the end of February.

He said he wanted to have another meeting to make a plan about what work I could do until the end of January. We've just had that meeting and I was told there was no more work for me after this week. This is actually great as the atmosphere at work has been pretty dire recently and as I drove back to work after Spanish this morning, as I got closer I found myself thinking "I don't want to go there, it feels so horrible....". Also the island is looking absolutely gorgeous at the moment and I was actually looking forward to having a month off to actually enjoy the place. Now I can have an extra two weeks to enjoy the place! This aside, I still felt a bit sick after we had the conversation but at least I know it's temporary and it's already started to disappear....

Although I can stay at the villa until the end of February, I've decided to move out this weekend. As of yet I don't have anywhere to go but I know something will turn up. Staying at the villa would just feel weird and I'm not comfortable with it. So once again, I'm going to be on the move. I didn't actually unpack anything after I moved all my stuff out of the flat last week so all I really have to do is stick things in the van and drive them to wherever will be my final home (for the next six weeks!). And then it's back to London. My little Ibiza adventure is nearly over. For the time being......

I had the conversation

2009-01-07T07:22:00.001-08:00

So, back to work this morning and as soon as I arrived, A trooped off to the bar to get coffees for us. When he came back, he slid the door shut and said he had a few things to talk about. "Maybe he's guessed..." I thought to myself. He had some news for me, possibly bad news. The owner of the flat where I was meant to return after the winter (according to the 2008 plans) had come to say he needed the flat back. I would have to move all my stuff out and find somewhere else to live by the end of March as I could live in the luxury villa til then.

Now this would normally have caused me all sorts of problems as it would have meant looking for somewhere to live once again. But that was in 2008 and now we're in 2009 and everything has changed. Well for me at least. I thought this was as good a time as any to announce my plans. So I told A that I was planning on returning to London. He looked thoroughly relieved. I think maybe he might have felt a little guilty getting me to move into the flat in the first place, only to find that I wouldn't have been able to live there long-term. And maybe they were starting to wonder what to do with me - recently I found myself becoming more and more of a secretary to Y. I don't mind looking over documents to check the English is word-perfect but being asked to type things up leaves me feeling a bit under-used. And under-whelmed. When I've taken the initiative to make things happen, generally they've got messed up, often in an embarrassing manner. So a bit of a stalemate really!

I didn't go into some long speech about things being chaotic and unprofessional, it didn't seem necessary. In my head I've already moved on to pastures new. I did say something about low pay and working six days a week and starting to wonder "so why am I doing this?" But ultimately I made it about me wanting to get on with my life and that's the truth. I've offered to carry on doing things with the British market once I'm back in London but only as a consultant - I'll help towards creating something successful if I'm rewarded properly.

If someone had made a fly-on-the-wall documentary about my adventure, I think it would have made quite good telly. I've experienced most emotions in my time here and my Spanish teacher said my life resembled a soap opera, amazing twists and turns every step of the way. Fantastic opportunities turned into disasters, the most heart-warming moments turned into heartbreak. But all in all it's been a brilliant adventure, a time to do something different, away from the hectic pace of city life. I've got two months left and I intend to make the absolute most of it!

The plan

2009-01-05T13:46:00.000-08:00

It's my last night in London, back to Ibiza tomorrow afternoon. I'm anticipating a conversation on Wednesday that outlines my plans - I hope it goes well!

Seeing that I've got two months left on the island, I want to make the most of my time there. This involves getting around as much of the island as possible, with camera in hand. Obviously it also involves spending time with friends, squeezing time in wherever possible amongst my usual work six days a week.

As it's also the beginning of the year and a time for resolutions, here are a few things I'd like to get in place over the next two months, to have me ready for my return. Aside from the usual eat well and drink lots of water, I'm going to add in a 3-times a week swimming routine. I didn't do much yoga or meditation last year so I'd like to get that back in place - it's important, it makes a huge difference to your day to day life and is good for you. I'm going to find the Bikram studio in town and head off there once a week too. It's so easy to become a hermit in the evenings, straight home after work and not out again. But it's time to change that! I've also got about two months of supplements left for my kinesiology and I'd like to get that finished, even if it does mean taking the horse pills.

I'm feeling quite re-energised and looking forward to returning to London, refreshed and rested. I feel like I've got lots of energy and a part of me wonders how far I could run if I tried. And would I feel any different after doing some exercise? I ask this because once upon a time, even a short run would make the endomorphins fly around my body. I would get that buzz from the smallest bit of exercise. It was the same with tweaking my diet to make it more healthy. Just the sight of fruit and veg would increase my energy levels. Sadly, this hasn't been the case for a few years now. My body isn't able to turn nutrients into energy, I don't know why but this is the main reason that I'm seeing a kinesiologist. I really hope that this rest I've had is just what I needed and my body returns to previous energy levels.

As I slowly mention to friends about returning, conversations always turn to the doom and gloom of Britain. People having to reassess their lives and cut back wherever possible. And the thought that goes through my head is "hello, welcome to my world!" Ever since I was made redundant in October 2002 and embarked on the path of the freelance person, I've had to cut back on frivilous spending and unnecessary treats. That air of uncertainty, of not knowing what's around the corner, I've lived with that for over six years and you get used to it, even embrace it. It keeps you on your toes, the only security you have is to be the best you can be and always believe that even if things feel wobbly, that passes and something better will replace it. You need to keep your most positive head on at all times, no matter how difficult it might be, and go forwards, always go forwards!

Happy new year and welcome 2009!

2009-01-02T13:48:00.000-08:00

I know there's meant to be an air of doom and gloom around at the moment but I feel very upbeat about 2009, excited even! As usual I have no idea what the year will bring but I think it's going to be a great year.

I saw the new year in at Tayo's Tracksuit Party. It turned out to be one of the best new year's I'd had in years. It being new year's wasn't what made it, I just liked the mix of party in a warehouse, ace music being played by friends, lots of familiar faces and dancing away like there was no tomorrow. The average age was probably about 18, it was if I'd turned my back for a year and when I turned round again, everything had got really young. The funny thing is, a couple of years ago I'd have been thinking "oh my god, everyone is so young which makes me feel so old!". But this time it was different, in some bizarre way it was exciting partying with people still in their teens, there was something quite exciting about know that they had their whole life ahead of them.

I also felt very sure about moving back to London. I don't know what the return will bring but I feel pretty cool about it all, I know that things will work out, they always do. A part of me feels that going to Ibiza was about having a break from London and a rest. I feel re-energised and ready to head back again. I think before I left I had got incredibly tired, not tired of London but just tired. A decade in London, fairly full-on at every turn had tired me out and maybe, just maybe, I needed a very big rest. The time in Ibiza does feel like it was a rest, although I've worked for a large part of my time there, it's pretty easy work and hasn't been as challenging as I once thought it might be. It had the potential to be a great challenge but I don't think it's going to happen so it's a bit like a rest, even though I work six days a week. But that often involves being at work with not much to do. Although this can be fine for a time, I'm bored of it now and want to get back to something more exciting.

I'm not sure how it's going to be taken by A & Y when I announce that I'm going to be moving back to London. The way that A has talked, I think he was expecting me to be with them for the rest of my life. But I need more than they can give and I need to see that my work is going in the direction I want it to be going and that just isn't going to happen with them. But at least returning to London feels like it's about me being ready to come back, less about work not really working out. I've done what many people just dream about doing. I never had any idea how it would pan out, I just knew that I wanted to go and live there and that's what I've done. A year is plenty of time away from London and I'm ready to come back!

Carrying on where I left off

2008-12-20T04:30:00.000-08:00

The other day I started writing about my "turning 40 angst" but I got carried away writing about life in my twenties and that was lots of fun and I ended up writing loads so I didn't talk about what's going on right now.

It's true, I am experiencing some angst about that big birthday looming up. Up til now my life makes so much sense but I'm completely baffled as to how the family thing hasn't happened when it's something I'd really love to have. In fact, some of my earliest memories are being aware of how things were at home and thinking "when I have my family I'm going to do things differently". Don't get me wrong, my parents are wonderful people and I love them dearly but when it came to raising children, I'm not sure they gave much thought to how you go about raising children. I'm sure lots of people bring children into this world without giving it much thought, to consider what sort of environment they would like to raise their children in and then create that environment.

Maybe it was because I was a sensitive child, prone to feeling things around me. Coupled that with a pondering mind and you get a child like me. I don't think my sisters were like this because some of the things that I mention, they've been oblivious to. I can see hints of it in my nephew Adil. Once when we were talking, I asked him what he'd like to do when he grew up. He told me that he'd like to be an artist (he is exceptionally gifted already) and sell his paintings in the park but only on weekdays. I asked him what he'd do at the weekend then and he said "I'd spend weekends with my family". I shot a glance at my sister to find out what he meant by that. My sister told me that often she has to work on Saturdays (she's a doctor) and the children don't like it, they want her to be there with them. Instead of moaning or complaining or throwing a tantrum, Adil had worked out a solution for how he'd do something when he grew up, based on how he saw things as a child. That's how I was too.

My adult life has been driven by the desire to get to that place I'd want to be when I was raising a family. It's as much about feeling comfortable with myself and who I am as a person and where I've got to in life before embarking on motherhood. I've got to the place I'd want to be, I didn't give up halfway along because I couldn't be bothered or didn't want to put the effort in. But I wonder if the whole family thing will happen? I'm baffled by the thought that it might not? I'm not sure how that is possible and I'm not prepared to give up the dream but you do think at what point do you go "ok, this isn't going to happen, time to let it go". I believe in the natural laws of the universe and I've seen so many things slot into place in my life but sometimes I do find myself wondering "is the universe so cruel that it would give me everything but deny me the thing I want most?" And my answer is always no, the world just doesn't work like that.

The other thing with always believing that I would one day have a family is that I haven't really thought what I want to do with my life if there isn't a family to take care of, to nurture, to love. How do I fill my time if I always thought that by a certain point, a large chunk of it would be taken up looking after my little family? What do you do if your childhood dream has been about the family you will have and how you will raise them but maybe that dream isn't going to happen? And all your subsequent dreams have been fulfilled? I was on a mission to get to a place where all my boxes had been ticked before a family came on the scene. I've got to that place, what do I do now? If I've got at least twenty years of full-time work ahead of me, what do I want to do? Last year working at the Society got me to a place where I thought "wow, if I never go any higher than this, that's fine by me - this is an amazing place to be". It's a great vantage point to start a family from as you don't have that nagging feeling that you never got to the place you thought you could get to because you had a child and took time out to raise your family.

For anyone reading this who doesn't know me, I think I better add in that I haven't delayed starting a family due to chasing a career dream. I just haven't met the right person. The last time I fell in love, I thought he was the one, I think for a time he did too. For four years I held on to the belief that he was the person for me, but our timing was off as we were both going through a process of turning our lives around to simultaneously get them to a point where we could live together in harmony. Then one evening we were talking, my candle for him still burning bright, and he said a few things that made me think "oh my god, he can't even look after himself, how can he look after me?" Bizarre thing to feel for someone as independent as myself but there you go, that's what I felt. I had this weird sensation that he wasn't "big" enough for me which is a strange thing to feel. I think it was something to do with our different approaches to life. I might be scared stiff about doing something but I will still dive in and do it. He seemed to be scared of life. Deep down inside I think he always knew it, always knew he would never get to that place he was trying to get to. I believed that he would but maybe all along he knew differently. But I've got to give it to him, he tried damn hard and I really thought he'd get there but it just didn't happen. He is a beautiful, gentle cheeky soul who I loved tremendously but that night my candle flickered and went out. And since then, I've not met anyone who I have that connection with. Actually, that's a lie, I have met some where the connection is there but the circumstances are not conducive to anything.

Anyway, there you go, a little about my angst. I think one of the underlying factors behind the email I sent yesterday is the thought in my head that if I don't have my own family and it's going to be mainly about work, I need to feel challenged and fulfilled and as if I am constantly achieving. I don't really have anywhere to go, I've got to wherever I needed to get to but I get very bored if I'm not challenged and I don't do mundane and boring! And I've hurtled along at quite a pace over the last two decades, packing in stacks. Sometimes I feel a bit tired so to maintain the momentum, I need to be incredibly excited about the work I'm doing, it's got to be something that gets my adrenaline going. So lots and lots of things whirling around in my head but you know the funny thing, I still believe it will happen. I still believe that my little dream of that someone special and me, living in our house full of love, laughter and happiness with a few little ones (and maybe some cats and possibly a dog) will still happen. And wow, how amazing will that be when it does happen!

Now I've got to turn my thoughts to organising the party for the big day! It's going to be special - and I get to celebrate it twice. On the day in London and then probably the week after in Ibiza. It's the same day that the Bali project opens, I was told I could celebrate my birthday in Bali but I would have been working and no doubt it would have been stressful and I'd already decided I wanted to celebrate with all my loved ones! I don't work on my birthday!

PS - I was talking to someone yesterday who'd just turned 30. I asked him if he'd had any "turning 30 angst" and he said yes. Then he said "I guess it's not something you're worrying about just yet" - he thought I was a 20-something. When I told him I was a few months off from turning 40, he went "oh my god, you've got menopause coming up!" Well thanks! There's me worrying about if I'm going to have children and he comes out with something like that. Anyway, how can someone like me who still looks about 12 even consider something like menopause, it's an eternity away!

I'm having a gulp what have you done? moment....

2008-12-19T06:44:00.000-08:00

I haven't really written much about my trip to Marrakech, I certainly haven't written anything about my stay at our riad. I will write more about my Marrakech experience but for the time being, I think I should explain what I have just done to cause my *gulp* moment.

When I was in Marrakech, effectively I was acting as a Consultant, getting to the root cause of what wasn't working and then making suggestions for improvement. As a Consultant, I would also implement the changes needed to make the project become a resounding success. As a Consultant in London, I had a reputation for delivering at the highest level. I'm still that person, I just live in a different place. For any project you need to have one person who is the driving force behind it, who makes it get to where it needs to be, who makes it all happen. That's usually me.

Since my return, I've compiled a 7-page report of what's not quite right about the place. I've been asked how I can help to make the improvements. I've said that I'm happy to act as a Consultant but we need to review terms and conditions - ie what I get paid. I'm not prepared to give away my skills and experience for a pittance. I don't know how this will be received, hence my *gulp* moment. The last few weeks have been a real eye-opener but I'm not going to go into details here. If you're interested in knowing, ask me and I'll tell you in private, it's just not something I will discuss in a public place.

It's one of those moments where afterwards you think "maybe I should have kept my mouth shut" but I know me, I don't keep my mouth shut. I wade in where fools wouldn't dare to tread and say what I think. At times it's caused friendships to end but if I can't express how I'm feeling, it wasn't a friendship worth having. I've walked out of jobs (only twice though) where I wasn't happy with how I was being treated.

The long and short of what I've just done is that either I work as a Consultant for the people (and hell, they could do with someone like me working as a Consultant) and get paid accordingly for it. Or I leave. And maybe go back to London as I'm not sure there's anything else here on the island for me. I need to feel challenged, I need to feel I am constantly achieving, I need to feel there is some purpose to what I do. Without that, I end up feeling rather miserable.....

My favourite song of 2008

2008-12-19T05:25:00.000-08:00

Even though I've spent most of this year living in Ibiza, that hotbed of party activity, it didn't feel like I heard that much new music. I had one of those emails from Amazon recommending bands and albums based on past purchases. I didn't recognise one name on the list but at least I have bands to look into.

So I didn't hear that much new music but I have heard some and based on that, I've chosen my favourite song of 2008. This is the first song I want to hear being played once the clock has chimed in the new year for 2009. It was a close call but in at number one is "Paris" by Friendly Fires. Actually the version that I love is the Au Revoir Simone one (the Aeroplane remix). I love the original too and could watch the band performing on Jools Holland over and over again but the remix really does it for me. It's a piece of nu-balaeric wonderfulness with a lovely long piano intro and some cowbell thrown in for good measure. The singer's gentle voice is gorgeous and this is beautiful sunshine music that makes you feel good to be alive. It makes you want to throw your hands in the air and sing along. And for me, it will always remind me of that very special time I lived quite near Paris (of which I've written about already, I think it's in the November posts).

Coming in very close at number two is "Iris" by Hercules and Love Affair. Once again, a beautiful song. Both the albums are my favourite albums of the year but I think Hercules and Love Affair would come in at number one and Friendly Fires would be in at number two. Both bands have a Frankie Knuckles connection. Do you know what it is? Well, the godfather of house did a remix of Blind. And Friendly Fires do an indie cover of "Your Love" - is this the first time that an indie band is showing a nod to their dance music influences?

Feeling excited about the festive season!

2008-12-19T04:48:00.000-08:00

Well it's glorious sunshine and blue skies in Ibiza but I'm heading back to London for Christmas and New Year and I'm feeling just a little bit excited about it! Actually very excited about it! According to the BBC website, the weather isn't too bad in London town but I'm sure it's nothing like the beautiful weather we're having here. Not to worry, I'm still excited.

I was a little worried about Christmas earlier this week as normally I spend the day with my older sister and her family. But this year she's buggered off overseas with the children so that option went out of the window. A friend invited me to spend Christmas Day with him but then appears to have changed his mind (without telling me) so I had a moment of panic this week wondering what I was going to do. There are two days in the year that I refuse to be alone as it would be so pitifully sad and those days are Christmas Day and my birthday. Anyway, my lovely friend Sophie is going to take me in for the day and in return she'll get a Christmas present from the shop - if I remember correctly, she loved the gold overnight bag so I'll take that for her.

The festive season kicks off tonight with a last party in Ibiza for me at Grial. It seems like everyone I know is going to be there so naturally I've started to get excited already. Then it's work again tomorrow and back to London tomorrow night courtesy of RyanAir. From the sound of it there's going to be a lot of people I know on the plane heading back and the flight has now been dubbed the Rave Plane. At the other end, it's straight to a party from the airport. I'll have my luggage and presents with me but I'm sure I can stow them away behind the bar or in the DJ booth where my friend Frank Tope will be manning the wheels of steel. There is something a little bit magical about the thought of coming home for Christmas and going straight to a party with all your stuff. If it was snowing and I was in New York, it would feel even more special but there is something about the mass movement of people at this time of year that I absolutely love. I know that lots of people I love will be making journeys at this time of year, going back to their families and old homes. They of course may not relish the prospect of being stuck with their families for a few days but I love the thought of everyone going off and being tucked up with their clan.

I'm excited about spending a couple of weeks back in the UK, hanging out with family and friends, seeing the people that matter the most. I was asked to work over Christmas and New Year, at the riad in Marrakech and I said no. That time around Christmas and New Year is far too special for me to work, it's when I spend time with my loved ones - it would take a lot of money for me to even consider working and even then, I might still say no!

If truth be told.....

2008-12-18T08:13:00.000-08:00

.... I hate those birthdays with a nought in them. It's as if they stand like pillars at either end of a decade, so big and momentous and solid. You end up looking at your life so far and even if it's been brilliant (which it has), you end up focussing on the things that haven't happened and you thought they would have. By now.

Actually turning twenty was fine, although I bet I was probably worrying about how my life would turn out. I felt wise beyond my years then when in fact I was quite naive and looked about 12 years old. But I was cool as I'd bought my first car while still 19 and it was a lovely bright red Volkswagen Beetle so I'd hurtle around town feeling like I was the best. I wanted to be the girl from the song "The Boys of Summer" but I didn't have a convertible. My car was still very cool and I had the Raybans and the hair pulled back to make me believe I was her. There was something about buying your first car while still a teenager that appealed to my need to have milestones with ticks beside them.

Me and my friend James would sit there for hours, drinking tea and eating Galaxy (we were such rebels back then!) and talking about life and how it all worked. We thought we knew everything and actually I had a fairly strong philosophy on life and apparently I was one of the most driven and determined little things that people had come across. I'd read an article by some old guy called Tom who used to write for Cosmopolitan (back in the days when Cosmopolitan was a brilliant magazine) and the article said something along the lines of "trust your feelings, follow your soul, you have the power to realise your dreams". It talked about implenting change in your life and being brave and all these things that made sense to me. I made James read it too! So, we thought we knew it all, that we had all the answers (courtesy of Tom's article - of which the best bits I still have, carefully handwritten in an old diary full of wise words) but we had zero life experience to put into practice what we believed.

I was truly curious to see how things would turn out. I'd been told that I could achieve anything I put my mind to (apart from my A levels which I failed miserably first time round and just scraped through the second time round). So a part of me wondered if that was actually true? Could I achieve anything I put my mind to? Did I have what it takes? And another part of me was secretly scared that somebody had convinced me about something that wasn't actually true and I'd find out the hard way when my life didn't work out, or at best, ended up being something average and mediocre (quite possibly my worst nightmare). So my debut into my 20s was excitement peppered with some drops of anxiety in case it didn't quite turn out how I believed it might.

My 20s were also the time to go off and do the things that might be more difficult once a family was in the picture. I first fell in love when I was 23. He was a few years older than me and at a stage in life where he was ready to settle down, have babies and that sort of stuff. I was still at university and wanted to live my life a little without someone else in tow. I skipped away from that without a backwards glance. If anyone had told me how difficult it is to meet someone who is really special, I might have done things differently. Or maybe not. But back then, I really did think amazing people were always around the corner. Actually I know that amazing people are always around the corner, I always manage to meet them wherever I go. But amazing people you fall in love with a really few and far between.

It was also interesting to see how I viewed my life would be by the time I was 30. I used to think that by then, I'd have the high-flying career, a penthouse suite, a designer car, a designer boyfriend and I'd be wearing sharp black trouser suits, with my hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. Obviously I imagined that the girl from the song (who of course I was) had just grown up a bit.....

I hated turning 30! It was like this milestone looming up and I didn't feel that I'd quite got to the place I'd expected to be. But life in the twenties hadn't followed that usual pattern of university followed by the start of a career. During my university days, I'd had the opportunity to live overseas and loving the experience, I wanted to do this again after graduating. I had two paths I could have followed - going to live overseas or embarking on a career as a foodservice design consultant (someone who designs back and front of house in hotels and restaurants). I'd spent my final year at university working with a consultancy, my dissertation was all about the role of design in high quality restaurants and I had the opportunity to join the consultancy after I graduated. But I felt too young to be starting a proper career.

I felt like a fraud. I don't know why because I was good at the work and obviously design is something that I have as an inbuilt gift. But I just didn't feel ready to hold my own in grown-up meetings and I was concerned I might get discovered as a fraud. It may have something to do with the fact that I still looked like I was under 18 (I got asked my age once in a supermarket when I was buying a bottle of wine for a friend. I was 24 at the time). I didn't think anyone would take me seriously because I still looked like a teenager. Now it's great as I still look a lot younger than I am and when I ever need to run through what I've done in my glittering career, you can see people doing the mental arithmetics trying to work out how old I am because there's no way I could have crammed all that in by the time I was 30!

So instead of embarking on the start of a career, I chose to run off to Japan to teach English and ended up there for three years. My dad has always said to me that if any opportunity comes your way, you should grab it and go for it (not quite these words, my dad doesn't speak like this and anyway, he'd be saying all of this in Urdu to me) because you never know if that opportunity will present itself to you again. Well this is what happened with Japan and off I went. After 3 years I came back and returned to university to embark on an MA in International Relations. It was difficult studying a subject I hadn't done since before O Levels but I loved it, relished the challenge of being thrown a topic I knew nothing about and then doing the research, finding out what it was all about, writing an essay, composing my answer. I'd always wanted to do a Masters but I didn't know in what subject. A diary I kept for a short time back in '91 when I went on a student exchange to the University of Denver talked about that desire then, but at that time it was angling towards an MBA. Now I'd found a subject that I loved. I even considered it as a PhD but didn't want to start my working life with a big debt over my head so I discarded that idea.

There was another reason for doing an academic MA at a "proper" university. Although I'd done well when I did my degree and came out with a 2:1, the whole episode of failing my A levels had left me feeling a bit thick. I'm not, I'm quite an intelligent person but in early adulthood, all you really have is your academic achievements to tell the world what sort of person you are. If you've failed something academically, you may end up feeling less intelligent than you are. Doing the Masters was a way of eradicating these feelings, of proving to myself that I was intelligent. And it worked! The funny thing is, when you're in your late teens, early twenties, that's how everyone sizes up everyone else. I have a wonderful friend B who jokingly refers to me as her idol because she is so inspired by my "get up and go and don't let anything stand in your way" attitude. But if she'd met me at the time of the A level failure, she would have thought less of me as a person as I hadn't proved myself to be academically brilliant!

I need to interject at this point. This was meant to be a post about me talking about how much I hate big birthdays. Instead I'm filling in the reader about various aspects of me and my life, all very positive - I started off feeling a bit crap when I started writing this but now I'm feeling pretty fabulous as I look back over the adventure that has been my life so far. Blogging can make you feel better!

Anyway, after that digression, I return to my twenties. After the Masters, I finally embarked on the start of a career at the ripe old age of 28. So it wasn't surprising that by the time 30 was on the horizon, I hadn't quite got to be the person I thought I would be. Thing is, I'd never be that person, it's not me. It doesn't represent what I feel is important in my life, it's far too materialistic and shallow, I guess it was just an image I thought I would be. Maybe it was how I defined "success" when I was 20, by the things you had attained in your life, not about the experiences you had had.

So, I found myself turning 30 living in a shabby but loved rented flat, working at the Foreign Office in a job that didn't really challenge me and I was aching to prove how wonderful and amazing I was! I reluctantly organised a party for my 30th, I felt I had to do something to mark the occasion. But honestly speaking, the way I was feeling about it all, I think I would have preferred to hibernate that birthday out as I didn't feel like I had much to celebrate. On top of all of this, my younger sister had just got engaged. Although I'd always known that my younger sister would get married before me, when it actually presented itself a reality, I did have an "oh my god, even my younger sister has a more together life than I do!" moment.

I had the party at my shabby but lovely rented flat. It was good to see my friends there. I can't remember who was actually there and I'm not sure I have photos of the event to nudge my memory. The thing I do remember is that even though I didn't enjoy my birthday as I hated turning 30, I loved the day after the party. My best friends had stayed over and on the Sunday we had a love-in on the futon in the living room, eating pizza from across the road and listening to wonderful tunes. It was pouring with rain and you could hear it drumming on the roof but we were all tucked up and happy. Before you think there was something untoward going on, the love-in was completely innocent. I think about six of us all clambered onto the futon that doubled up as a bed. We were all fully clothed but all got under the bed clothes and ate pizza in bed. Daryl was the only boy in the group and obviously he loved being surrounded by all these gorgeous girls. However Jayne might not have been feeling so gorgeous as she'd been horrendously ill the night before and was still a touch fragile. This is the moment I really loved. I was surrounded by some of my loveliest friends (and they are all still a part of my life so I am blessed with wonderful friendships), eating pizza and listening to great music. It was pouring with rain outside so the best place to be was inside and I loved it, truly loved it! So it seems as if once I got the big 3-0 out of the way, including the official "party", I could really start enjoying the decade.

This post has gone off on a tangent but I've really enjoyed writing it. I'll come back tomorrow to fill in on my 30s (which I may have done already on my birthday post from this year) and discuss why I feel so baffled about turning 40!

Marrakech - Part One

2008-12-17T08:08:00.000-08:00

I was going to blog from Marrakech but the internet connection at the riad was being tempermental so I had to leave it. Instead I scribbled down notes to help keep things fresh in my mind, to help me remember the details when I found the opportunity to blog again.

As soon as I stepped out of the plane, standing at the top of the stairs, I smelt the air. Whenever I arrive in a new place by plane, I always like to get out of the plane and feel the air on my face, see what temperature it is, what it smells like, if it reminds me of anything. It's always great going somewhere hot as you feel the rise in temperature, the heat and humidity as soon as you step out.

When you arrive in Marrakech, you have to fill in an immigration form. I'm not sure why they don't give you this on the plane, as so many other nations do. It was only when you went into the airport terminal that you found the forms that needed to be filled in. Once filled in, you had to turn back on yourself and get in line to see one of the immigration officials. When it was my turn, they asked me a strange question "What is your country of origin?" - they asked me this when I was leaving too. What is this meant to mean? The country I was born in? The country my parents were born in? The country they went to as refugees after the partition of India? I answered Pakistan but I'm not sure that's the correct answer but they didn't seem too bothered by my answer and I could leave and go to collect my luggage.

Waiting at the baggage carousel, there was that rising sense of panic when it became obvious that all the luggage had been emptied onto the belt but my suitcase wasn't there. I watched the suitcases of various shapes and sizes pass before me but no glimpse of my own. As I waited there, mentally going through the process of reporting my suitcase lost, I looked over to the right and there I saw lying on the ground, my suitcase. I don't know if it had tumbled off the carousel or if someone had picked it off thinking it there's but I did wonder why the people surrounding my suitcase hadn't put it back onto the carousel. Anyway, I collected my case and stepped into the main airport to meet the driver who would take me to the riad. In the airport, if you look up to the ceiling, it looks like some Daliesque melting candles but the effect is pleasing, in a spaceship kind of way - it reminded me of the airport in Osaka.

As we left the airport and headed for the riad, straightaway you noticed the increase in 2 and 3 wheel vehicles, weaving their way thorough the traffic. You'd see complete families perched on a scooter, putt-putting along. As I peered into vehicles going past, I noticed a lot of sheep enjoying their last day on the planet. As we sped along, it dawned on me that Marrakech reminded me of Karachi but instead of toffee-colour buildings, they were generally salmon pink. And of course the Atlas Mountains in the distance which you don't have in Karachi. The driver chatted away in French and I felt glad that I'm multi-lingual and could understand what he was saying and engage in conversation. Without speaking French, I would have been lost.

Barcelona

2008-12-07T09:20:00.000-08:00

I'm in Barcelona for the night before flying to Marrakech tomorrow morning. When I arrived this afternoon, the streets around my hotel seemed eerily quiet as if something had just ended and everyone had left. I'm staying in a hotel not far from the place I stayed in when I was in Barcelona in April. I know this because I can see the same Gaudi building from this hotel window as I could from the other. Thankfully this hotel is of a much higher calibre than the other place, which to this day remains the place where I had the worst night's sleep. Probably because I didn't get any sleep at all. That place (which was actually a hostel) was terrible - I ended up sharing a room with 5 others of which 4 snored terribly (the worst being a girl) and the heating was turned up so high you would have thought that a blizzard was raging outside. You couldn't open a window to let any cold air in, you couldn't turn the heating down and I couldn't sleep due to the cacophony of snoring - it was like an out-of-time orchestra, full of wind instruments.

Anyway the current hotel is far better and I don't have to share the room with anyone else. I would describe the style as modern, all walnut brown wood and muted greys, against a backdrop of white. It's lovely but now I find this modern look so bland and boring. You can't find fault with it but it really doesn't have any character, any heart or soul. If it was a person, it would be that good-looking guy who turns out to be incredibly dull. And I've said guy instead of girl as it's a very masculine room. I look at the room and I want to inject some texture or colour or pattern into it, something to bring it to life. There's nothing really to capture your interest, no surfaces tempting you to run your hands over them, no visual or tactile pleasure. My leather tassle bag is the sole item bringing a bit of character to the room. On closer inspection I did notice that the wallpaper was made up of millions of ridges, like very fine corrugated paper and I immediately ran my hands over it. But you need to get quite close to see the textured quality, a metre away it looks like a plain white wall.

When I arrived in the room, I did what I always do when I arrive in a hotel room for the first time. I dumped my bags and went into the bathroom to see what that was like and to see if there were any goodies there. Once again, clean and modern but overall bland. I glanced over the toiletries, opened the bottles, had a sniff and ear-marked the items I'm going to take with me. I don't actually need anything but I liked the smell of the green tea shower gel and shampoo so those bottles will be finding their way into my suitcase. The soap smelled too normal to lift so that can stay.

After checking in, I went to find some food and catch up on the Sunday papers. I read about that woman Karen Matthews who was behind the abduction of her own daughter. It really makes you wonder what British society has come to. Last week I read about a man who made his own daughters pregnant so he could claim more child benefits, and this week this woman not fit to be a mother, orchestrating the disappearance of her own daughter so that she could "find" her and claim the reward money. Anyway, I ate and read the papers and then had an argument in Spanish about the bill as they charged me two euros for a bit of butter and alioli. It's a bit steep, particularly when a big basket of bread cost half that and most places don't charge for these things, it's quite normal to have alioli with your bread here (but maybe not butter). It was a pleasant experience arguing in Spanish as I could see how much progress I had made - I don't think the waiter was impressed when I called him a robber but in my head, I was just practicing my languange skills with a real-life situation.

I'm off to hear some live music tonight, meeting up with a friend who lives in the city. And then it's up bright and early tomorrow morning for the next leg of the journey - onward bound to Marrakech!

So I finished the book...

2008-12-06T03:46:00.001-08:00

I went home last night and spent the evening reading "The Kite Runner", finishing it at around half ten. Once again, I have to say, what a wonderful book. Beautifully written, the story draws you in but doesn't give anything away until you read it. There were twists and turns and I didn't see any of them coming until I read them. It gave the book a depth that perhaps other books don't have. It made me think back to when I read "The Inheritance of Loss", a book I really didn't enjoy even though it had won the Booker prize. Not that that should be an indication of enjoyment, that's far too much a personal thing. In the second book, there were similarities, master and servant, the lives of their descendants - but I didn't find an engaging story to capture the imagination. It may have evoked emotions but I don't remember any, apart from feeling bored at the somewhat tedious storyline. It didn't really feel like it went anywhere, the lives of the characters weren't inter-twined or if they were, it was so loosely that they bore no relation on each other.

I found myself dissecting the paragraphs, searching for what made them so compelling. There's more to a wonderful book than the story being told. The author's power of description was inspiring, it made me realise that a picture or photo may capture something but could you describe that same thing when you had words alone? When you see something that moves you, can you describe what it is that evokes that emotion? Can you make a reader feel what you're feeling? Once again I was reminded of the power of words and once again I found myself wishing I was more gifted in the art of putting words together. As I'm leaving for Marrakech on Monday, I've decided that in addition to taking photos, I'll see if I can describe the sights and sounds I witness with words alone.

The story was simple, spanning three generations but the characters few. A single act had bound lives together, led characters to act and behave in a particular manner, secrets being taken to the grave. How many families have their own stories like this? How much do we know, really know of the people who consist of our family members? I spent a lot of time last year with extended family members, my aunts, a cousin and all we did was talk. I had conversations that I'd wanted to have for many years but had been at a loss as to who to have them with. Friends are wonderful but no-one really knows the mechanics of a family apart from those who reside within it. It was like putting a jigsaw puzzle together, putting in the pieces and the picture starting to make a little more sense. I've always been curious about the world around me, what makes one person act like this and another act like that? There were things I wanted to understand about my own family but didn't have the answers. As a family we don't really talk or communicate, there is little desire to understand why things are the way they are, better to just let them be how they are. Having these conversations with extended family members helped me to gain a greater understanding but it would have been just as easy not to have had the conversations at all. But for me I need to understand and maybe, just maybe, this is the reason why I enjoyed this book so much.

The Kite Runner

2008-12-05T07:24:00.000-08:00

The Kite Runner was one of the books I was going to take to Marrakech with me. But I finished the other book I was reading so picked this book up earlier this week. What a beautiful book, Khaled Hosseni is a wonderful story-teller and you just want to carry on reading to see what happens next. It's not often that you pick up a book that you just don't want to put down again until the end. All I want to do is curl up with a cup of tea, some chocolate and the book. I remember when I read Anna Karenina, it was exactly the same. For some reason I didn't think I'd enjoy the book, I didn't think I'd like a Russian literary masterpiece but how wrong I was. I wanted to cancel everything in my diary, work included, and just read. Books like this are just wonderful!

Back to The Kite Runner. I really enjoy books that, although fictional, weave in history with the tale so you learn something too. I think that's one of the reasons I enjoyed Midnight's Children so much, I actually learnt a lot about the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan through reading the book. The Kite Runner is a beautiful story of friendship and betrayal, the sticky father-son relationship, cowardice and courage. It's made me cry a few times already but thankfully not the blubbing sort that I did when I read Captain Corelli's Mandolin.

I also love books that embrace countries and cultures, where you read about peoples' lives once they've left their homeland and moved to the west (usually America or Britain), how they adapt, the things that bind them together, the strength and courage they display in their new lives. I guess my love of books like these is because it's my background also, two cultures, two lives, two worlds.

Marrakech

2008-12-02T09:21:00.000-08:00

I'm off to Marrakech next week for work. I'm not sure what exactly I'm going to be doing while I'm there (I was going to chat about it with Alberto but he ran out of time before leaving for Bali yesterday and this is just one of the things left incomplete.....) but I will definitely spend a bit of time seeing how things are run at the riad and see where and how I can make improvements.

I arrive on Monday and Tuesday is Eid-al-Adha. Although we celebrate this as a family in London, this will be the first time that I'm experiencing eid in an Islamic country. I'm really looking forward to seeing what happens. I didn't know for sure the significance of this religious festival so a few minutes on google pointed me in the right direction. Eid-al-Adha is also known as the Festival of Sacrifice and commemorates Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his son for Allah. Just as he is about to sacrifice his beloved son, he is stopped and a lamb or goat is sacrificed instead. Each family sacrifices a lamb/goat and the meat is split into three - one part for the poor, one part for neighbours and relatives and the final part to be eaten at home. Eid-al-Adha occurs on the day after Hajj pilgriims descend from Mount Arafat.

I think it's going to be quite an experience being in Marrakech for Eid. I've been told that the day before, everywhere you look there are men taking their lambs or goats home. You can even go and buy your beast in the local supermarket. It reminds me a bit of when we first went to Pakistan when I was about 4 or 5. As Muslim children, you also have a goat slaughtered in your name (or something like that, I'm not sure what exactly this is about and whether it's religious or cultural). Anyway, three goats were brought to my uncle's house where we were staying for me and my two sisters. Being an animal lover, I got very attached to my goat who if I remember correctly had a pink tuft on his forehead (probably dyed). Imagine my horror when I then saw my pet goat slaughtered in front of me! Funny thing is, I don't remember crying about it which is strange because a few years later when I watched the film "Ring of Bright Waters" in which an otter gets killed (and you don't see it getting killed, you just know it has), I was inconsolable and cried all night. Watching my pet goat get killed also didn't turn me into a vegetarian but maybe I didn't put two and two together, working that what I ate later was probably my pet.....

Anyway, I'm going to be blogging from Marrakech, complete with pictures. This will be the first time I go anywhere truly exotic in six years so looking forward to being immersed in a throughly different culture for a little while. I guess I'll be doing some work too. One thing I definitely want to do is try out a hammam (a bit like a Turkish bath). We've got a private hammam at the riad so I'm going to check that out and get a massage as well. You have to sample the goods before you can try and sell them to others!

On the move. Again....

2008-12-01T09:27:00.000-08:00

I'm going to move into the new place today. It was meant to happen yesterday but the van broke down again on Saturday night when I was in Ibiza town so I abandoned it there and it got picked up and fixed today. So now I'm with wheels, I can move.

As I'm still keeping my other place (so now I'll have two homes as well as two lives, two cultures etc), I'm only taking essentials with me. Packing took exactly twenty minutes - I bet I don't really miss all the things I leave behind. All this moving around is making me really hanker after pared-down living. I'd love to whittle down what I really need and just live with that. I thought I was pretty good in London, regularly decluttering but when I was last in London, I was on the hunt for some essential papers packed away in my parents loft. Although I'd marked my boxes, I still wasn't sure which box my papers were in so I had to go through the lot. I was amazed at the amount of rubbish packed in the boxes. What was I thinking? I can only imagine that in my panic to get packed up before I left London, I stuffed things into boxes instead of taking the time to go through things, sorting out what I needed and what could go. So far, the only things I've missed while I've been here are my books (as well as my friends) and that's been fixed with lots of new reading material that should keep me satisfied for the next few months.

Hopefully it shouldn't take too long to get settled into the new place. I didn't really get properly settled into my other flat due to trips oversees and things needing to be done and not getting done. I'm not good if my home environment is unsettled as it has a knock-on effect on my quality of life. So new home and it's all change once again! I've started telling people about the new place so hopefully I'll have lots of visitors - I was concerned I was turning into a bit of a hermit. It's easily done when you live and work in the same place and work a lot! I'll post some photos once I'm settled in!

The world works in mysterious ways.....

2008-11-29T09:06:00.000-08:00

I ended up staying at work til around ten last night and then went home and promptly went to bed. This is all due to the lack of heating. After my last post, I think I started feeling more and more fed-up. I hadn't been paid for a while so was down to less than a euro in my purse, I was cold but not as cold as I'd have been if I'd been in my flat. Alberto and Yvonne dropped into the shop at around nine, a bit surprised to find me still there. They must have thought I was very diligent still working until that time - until the penny dropped that I was still there as it was warm and my flat is freezing cold. As the flat is actually rented by Alberto and I sub-let from him, he's meant to be sorting things out there for me. But he has so much on his plate that my place is pretty low down on the priority list. Anyway, I did get a bit grumpy and make a point about no heating, no money. I don't usually do this but frankly I was pretty fed-up.

This morning when I came into work, Alberto said "listen I've been thinking, why don't you move into one of the villas over the winter. It's going to get very cold and they have central heating and are empty at the moment". So once again, I'm going to be on the move (well tomorrow morning). I'm going to leave the bulk of my stuff in the flat and just take essentials with me to the villa. It's not bad, a 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom stunning villa! And it's got an oven which means I can bake and roast and do things like that which is great! Now all I have to do is let my London friends know so they can come and visit while I'm living in such luxury!

It's really cold here!

2008-11-28T10:27:00.000-08:00

It might have been quite sensible to check what the weather does in Ibiza in the winter before moving out here. Actually, that's a silly sentence as I've never looked into the weather before going to live somewhere. Although anywhere that had a lot of dark or grey would probably not do very well in attracting me.

Anyway, winter seems to be on its way and it's pretty cold. This isn't helped by the fact that I haven't got any heating in my flat, apart from a small electric heater in the bathroom. I was given a couple of electric heaters but the electricity in the flat is not geared up for that type of heater (or maybe it's just not geared up to too many things being plugged in at the same time). In the last couple of weeks, the electricity has gone out three times and we've been plunged into darkness - this seems to happen when myself and my neighbours all put on a light and maybe switch one other appliance on too. The electricity set-up is a bit rubbish....

We do have heating at work though. Sadly this means that I'm now staying at work later and later as it's so cold in the flat I don't want to go home. I've lost count of the number of times I've made dinner still wearing my coat. And then I find myself thinking "I'm cold, I can't get warm so I might as well go to bed" - and it's only 8 o'clock! Hopefully over this week-end, we'll get some gas heaters for my flat and I can resume normal life again! I did a whole load of washing this week and then found I couldn't get my clothes to dry as they were just hanging there in the cold. I think I'm going to have to iron everything just to get it dry!

After getting cold a few times at night, I brought my winter duvet over from London. It made such a difference and I started sleeping well again. But the last couple of nights, the temperature has plummeted and two nights on the trot, I found myself waking up cold and not being able to get back to sleep again. Last night, I went to bed wearing layers. This is similar to the look I've perfected for the daytime but not quite so many layers. I hate having to wear anything at night but it's become necessary. So last night I went off to bed wearing jogging pants, a t-shirt and a big fleece. I had a wonderful night's sleep - being warm and snuggly is the way to go!

So easily pleased, it doesn't take much!

2008-11-26T10:15:00.000-08:00

After quite a few days of feeling very unexcited about work due to all the recent stuff that's happened, something happened today to turn that all around and get me feeling pretty excited again!

Alberto and Yvonne got back from Marrakech last night and I had an impromptu meeting with them this morning. I can't remember if I've previously mentioned the various projects they have on the go but at present, they have their villas in Ibiza as well as the interiors shop, the riad in Marrakech, a boutique hotel opening in Bali, a plot of land on some island off Bali where they're going to build a beach-front hotel and a small hotel opening in the north of Ibiza. They also have a house on the hill here that they will be doing up and their own house which will also be done up in the next year or so.

After the last couple of weeks, it really felt like they were spreading themselves too thin and some things were not being done properly. Or they'd leave people to take care of things once they'd moved on to the next project and things would flounder. I was getting increasingly concerned about the fact that I'm supposed to now be Alberto's right hand girl but I wasn't sure if the message was getting through that they need to do more than create amazing interiors, they have to make sure all the operations are in place for everything to function really well.

Anyway, I trotted off to the meeting with them this morning, unaware what it was going to be about. They presented me with a document prepared by the management company that has been enlisted to help with the Bali project. The document was about five pages long and went into minute detail on every aspect that needs to be considered for the opening of the project, including staff recruitment and training. It made my heart sing to see this! They asked me to prepare a similar document for the hotel in Ibiza. I literally left that meeting skipping (or maybe that was the two cafe con leches I had) - all the things I was trying to emphasise the significance of were in the document. I've spent the best part of the day making our own version of the document for the Ibiza project, it was time-consuming but what a joy! We've now got a framework to follow, to see what needs to be done and what is still outstanding. I'm not sure what my role (if any) will be with this project - Alberto asked me if I wanted to manage the hotel but I declined, saying that it was something I could have done fifteen years ago. But I'm more than happy to get involved with getting it all set up and making it all work!

We're also going to use the document for any future projects (and use it as a point of reference for things already established). At last, the challenge seems a little less daunting.....

Paris

2008-11-22T06:23:00.000-08:00

I was listening to the Friendly Fires album last night and on there is a song called "Paris". It took me back to 1992 and the time I lived close enough to Paris to make regular visits. It was a special time, a magical time, not only because Paris is such a beautiful city but also because I fell in love for the first time then.

The wonderful thing about falling in love for the first time is that you really have no idea how it's going to feel until it happens. You have no idea how you're going to act or behave, the sides of your personality you'll see that you've never seen before. This much I know though, falling in love really does feel like you're falling, uncontrollably, giddily, wonderfully, happily falling.....

I think what made it all the more special was the fact that I thought I had been in love before. I'd known James since I was 17, we'd been best friends and he'd been amazing at a particular time in my life. I have many fond memories of a wonderful friendship. But we made the mistake of going out. I think it was a knee-jerk reaction on his part to my announcement that I was going to study in the States. Suddenly we were an item when in previous discussions, we'd decided to just be friends. It was very serious very quickly. I thought I was in love, I think he did too. But deep down inside, something just didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it but something felt wrong. I went off to America and once there, we got more and more serious and decided to get married. But all the time, I had that horrible gnawing feeling inside of me that something was just not right. And the worst thing about going out with your best friend? When you need to talk about things like this, you can no longer talk to your best friend. At the end of my time in the States, I came back to London. On the one hand I was delighted to see him, on the other hand I felt scared and nervous and apprehensive but I didn't know why. We made plans to get married, set a date for the muslim wedding and then he met someone else. It broke my heart and it felt like my whole world had just crumbled to pieces and my dad threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again! I think it really upset my dad as he saw his strong, fiercely independent daughter fall to pieces in his arms, my mum could cry with me, my dad couldn't.

Anyway, about eight months later I went off to France on a work placement for university, still nursing a bruised heart and wondering why it had all happened. I was shy and quiet and kept myself to myself in the chateau where I was working. One evening I was sat on my own in the staff cafe, head engrossed in a book. D also worked at the chateau and walked past me. I think he felt sorry for me, sat there all on my own, no doubt looking a bit forlorn. He was on his way to Paris to meet friends for a drink and to play pool. He invited me along and I happily said yes as I've always loved Paris (well ever since I first visited when I was 16).

We went to Paris and played pool and on the drive back to the chateau we got talking, really talking. We were so engrossed in our conversation that once we pulled into the chateau car park, we sat there for another couple of hours continuing the conversation. I have no idea what exactly we talked about but I remember for the first time in my life feeling like I'd just met someone I really, truly connected with. There were similarities in our personalities, we looked at the world and dealt with things in the same way. Although our childhoods were different, there were things that felt the same, particularly the way we looked at things. I was reading a lot of books on the world and how it works trying to gain some understanding, he was reading the same books in French! I came away reeling, thinking "we've got to go out again" - I think I forced him into asking me out on a date (unheard of for me) as he was being fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, very galllic!

We went out on a date and very quickly ended up falling crazily, madly head over heels in love. I realised that I had never fallen in love with James because it had never come anywhere close to what I was feeling then. There was a joyful magic in seeing yourself falling in love, seeing the person that you are when it happens. I thought I'd behave in a particular way, cool and independent - I couldn't have been more wrong but it felt fine! We had a magical, special few months together, with numerous trips to Paris. We'd wander for hours through the city, hand in hand, dropping into cafes along the way. I remember running through the rain, I think we were on the way to a party at someone's house. And I remember a particularly romantic date in the most unromantic of places - McDonalds on the Champs Elysee. Maybe in Paris, everything takes on a romantic glimmer.....

It's been over six years since I last visited the beautiful city. The next time I fall in love I'm going to whisk that special person straight over to Paris!

Nature or nurture?

2008-11-22T05:16:00.000-08:00

I've always wondered about the nature vs nurture debate - whether who we are and how we are is based on our genes or our environment? In recent years, I've come to the conclusion that our genes play a significantly larger part in it all, with the environment playing a smaller but still important role. But then I look at my siblings and for one family to produce four such different people leaves me baffled. We all have the same genes and yet we've turned out so differently?

But when I look at myself, I can see where elements of my personality have come from. My love of interiors, of nature, of all things beautiful come from my mum's middle sister. I'd love to have her grace and poise, she has the elegance of Audrey Hepburn which I aspire to - but when I told my friend Simone this, she said "you'll never be like Audrey Hepburn, you're far too cheeky!" I don't mind that, I like being cheeky! And where does that cheekiness come from? It comes from my dad. My outspokeness comes from my dad's youngest sister. Everyone says that my younger sister is like my aunt but I don't see it like that. My aunt is outspoken and she will say what she thinks, my sister is argumentative and dramatic so in fact quite different. If I have any tact and diplomacy, it comes from my dad's oldest sister but I think it's difficult to combine outspokeness and tact and diplomacy - on occasions where my friends have remained quiet about something, I'll open my mouth and say what I think! A few friendships have disintegrated because of this outspokeness but I guess it's a good test of who your friends are and who aren't.

I can also pinpoint defining moments that have played an enormous part in who I am - these are the environmental factors that have influenced me. I've always been driven and determined, as if I've been on a mission to get somewhere, to be someone - and it's got to be the best (based on what is the best for me). This has come from a deep-seated desire not to live in my older sister's shadow all my life. When we were growing up, she was the golden child, the one who was going to become the doctor and live out my dad's dreams. She was brainy and beautiful and sporty and musical - in fact, someone once said to me when I was a child "Your sister is the brains and the beauty in this family" - erm thanks, that's very encouraging! But thank the lord I wasn't one of those "poor me" types (otherwise known as a victim) as I'd have just let that all make me feel very sorry for myself and quite possibly not achieve anything at all. When you're busy playing the role of victim, all your energy goes into that whereas if you diverted it into something far more positive, you'd probably do quite well!

I always thought I was the same as her, eventhough I went through quite a gawky phase that lasted about a decade (from 7 to 17), I was skinny and had buck teeth and a face that didn't quite work. I wasn't very good at team sports and couldn't sing but I was pretty brainy so that was something. But it came as a bit of a shock when in my final year at junior school we were getting ready to put on the school play (in French). Four years previously, my older sister had the starring role as the inn-keeper's wife with lots of lines in French. I assumed I would also get that same role, I was all prepared to be given that role. Imagine my shock when I found out my part in the play was that of a dog, and all I had to say was "woof woof!" I came down to earth with a bump! Looking back it's all quite amusing and if things like this made me driven and determined, then they're no bad thing!

I've always been seen as fiercely independent but that can be traced back to incidents in my growing-up years that made me think "if you want to be sure of something, do it yourself". If I wanted to better my life, it was up to me to do it - relying on anyone else might lead to disappointment. Of course this is one of life's very important lessons - to take responsibility for your own life. There were certain things I wanted to see in my adult life so I took responsibility for them, instead of relying on someone else to provide them for me. That's not to say it doesn't work, I'm sure there are some people who would provide everything for you but I'd rather know that I can look after myself before I let anyone else look after me.

Anyway, I've gone off on a complete tangent because the thing I wanted to actually discuss here, within the parameters of the nature/nurture debate is this:

"High standards, attention to detail - can you learn this or are some people born with it and others not?"

I know I have high expectations when it comes to work and I pay attention to the details. But was I born with this or did I learn it? I know I've been taught high standards in my first few years of work. It started when I was twelve and I was working at the local riding school. We were taught how to do things properly, our yard was always immaculate, we'd spend hours cleaning and polishing tack and grooming the horses and ponies. Everyone was on time for work (a few of us would even be there an hour early), perhaps we were taught excellent work ethics and attitude at the riding school. When I got my first proper part-time job, working in the restaurant of the Crown and Greyhound in Dulwich Village, Barbara the manageress taught me how to do things properly there. She was an ex-Playboy Bunny and if there was one place where high standards were expected and maintained, it was at Playboy.

To me, it seems as if I learnt these qualities when I started work. But maybe they'd been there already, lying dormant, looking for an environment where they could surface. Up til then, life at home had been chotic and messy, if there were any standards, they weren't very high. So, the question is, was I born with these things or did I learn them? And the reason I ponder this is because with our recent problems with our riad in Marrakech, I've got to train our general manager in the standards that need to be met and maintained. But is it something you're either born with or not or is it something that can be learnt? Is it just a question of showing someone how to do things so they can carry on once you're gone or is it really a case of some people have it and others don't so no matter how much you show someone, if they just aren't at that level or they just don't get it, you'll find it difficult to make them understand. Oh well, I'm out there in a couple of weeks and fingers crossed I do manage to get this message across!

Two lives

2008-11-15T10:30:00.000-08:00

I've had two trips to London in the past month. On the first trip, I felt this lovely warm sensation of having two lives, one here in Ibiza and the other in London. It's as if I have a foot in both and can move seamlessly between the two. It appears to be the case in my life. I grew up with two cultures and although in my late teens (when I was seen as a rebel) I was a terrible embarrassment to the Pakistani community and possibly my family, I now feel that I do have a foot in each and once again move seamlessly between the two. I don't really socialise within the Pakistani community (no doubt they would all look at me with pity because I'm not married and wonder why that was) but I do have some very close connections with various family members and that's good enough for me.

I have a strong sense of who I am and where I came from and the much bigger picture that goes before me. But I also fit in very comfortably on the British side so in a way, I've got the best of both worlds. I remember when I was going through that rebellious phase, I felt as if I didn't really belong in one culture but wasn't sure that the other culture would accept me. I wondered if I'd end up in some strange no-man's land, stuck between two cultures but not belonging to either. Luckily things worked out in my favour and I've now got two very different cultures that I reside within.

It's the same with work. My decade-long career in London saw me doing two vastly different things - being an international relations consultant and interiors. When I did just one, I'd miss the other. It's as if I need both to satisfy different parts of me and I'm at my happiest when I'm moving between the two. My time in London also had another angle, that of a party girl. For eight or nine years, I went to some of the best parties that London had to offer but that party-loving streak was combined with a fiercely professional head. Consequently I never let my weekends creep over into Monday morning. Although some wonky occasions on a school night did result in me being at work the next day in body but not necessarily in mind. But my weekends and my weekdays were kept far apart.

Returning to this sensation of having two lives, one in Ibiza, one in London, when you have this kind of existence, it's lovely because you see the best in both. I love the vast rugged beauty of the island, beauty of the natural kind, not nature manicured to perfection. It's the sort of beauty I love, natural, organic, wild - the kind that can take your breath away. Inky black skies flooded with stars, the sea now the colour of dark-blue denim, the multiple shades of the pine trees, the moodiness of a grey sky. On the other hand, stick me in London and I love the bright twinkling lights of the city and getting around on public transport, where I can gaze out of the window at the world passing by, instead of having to concentrate on the road. I love the things I don't have in Ibiza, being able to go to the cinema or an art gallery or a museum, hopping around to see various friends, enjoying parks and my favourite book-shops. I'm not due in London now til Christmas but I'm already excited about the things I can do, the people I can see.

Since my recent trips to London, I've found myself thinking about a life that flits between the two. I would love to live something between the two places, filling me with the best of both. One is a strikingly beautiful island, the other a sparkling capital city but there are parts within me that hanker after both. There are elements in both that I love and that I don't find in the other. It seems as if after having two cultures and two worlds of work, I now find myself with two places where I want to live, moving between the two. I wonder if this is possible. Only time will tell......

Where has the moon gone?

2008-11-15T10:15:00.000-08:00

It was a full moon two nights ago. I'm not sure if we get bigger moons here but it was huge, like a massive silver cheese in the sky. In the normal pitch-black surroundings, the moonlight was like a torch beaming down. Last night the moon was big and bright (but obviously not quite as big as the night before). It proved useful to guide me home when I ended up having to walk back from our villas.

We've got some press staying at one of our villas and the journalist arrived last night. We accompanied them to their villa and then I whizzed off to get pizza for them. We're good like that, looking after our guests - when you've got two adults and two one year-olds who've just flown in and it's late, it's best to provide some food, not send them off in the direction of the nearest supermarket (about twenty minutes away) or point out any restaurants that might be open. Anyway, I went off to get pizza for them, slightly alarmed by the noise that my van has been making in recent weeks. In fact, it's been making this strange noise ever since I took it to the garage. It's as if I traded in one strange noise for another, one disappeared but another one took it's place. I got to the pizza place, ordered the pizzas and then headed back to our guests. I think this was one pizza delivery they were very glad to see and I'm probably slighty more glamorous than your average pizza delivery person. I stayed and chatted for a little while and then took myself off home as it was getting late.

I got in the van, started it and absolutely nothing happened. I tried again, and a second time, nothing. So I got out, grabbed my laptop out of the back and started walking home. The moonlight guided me all the way and it was really quite special having a late night walk and seeing everything bathed in silver. I got home twenty minutes later so at least I now know how long it takes to walk from our villas to our shop and home.

Tonight I noticed the moon has disappeared. It's strange, it's not cloudy as the sky is flooded with stars. But the moon is strangely missing. I'm wondering why that is? And I hope it makes an appearance soon. I've got to meet the photographer who is arriving later tonight and take him to the villa. The van is still not working (but fingers crossed will be up and running tomorrow morning) so once again, I've got to walk back from the villa. That walk isn't going to be quite the same without the moonlight - I must remember to take my torch!

Feeling just a little bit sad about it all.....

2008-11-13T06:00:00.000-08:00

I was recently appointed Director of Sales and Marketing for our riad in Marrakech. Going by the pictures, the riad is beautiful but not really known so not as busy as it should be. There has never been a marketing strategy around it and this year had been particularly bad so it was time to take action.

We're already with a couple of online booking agencies for the luxury boutique hotel market but weren't with the main one in the UK, the one that is best known for the luxury boutique market. They had visited the riad last year and wanted to add it to their collection but Alberto had said no for some reason. I resumed the conversation with them again and have spent the last month or so building up a great relationship and rapport with the team there, including the editor-in-chief. They were delighted to now add the riad to their collection and on our side, we were also obviously delighted as now it meant that perhaps the riad would be full all year round.

While we were in London, the editor-in-chief and the head of PR and marketing went to stay at the riad for a couple of nights to do a review. I had an email from them yesterday - sadly standards had slipped considerably from the initial photos and we didn't make the cut. I completely understand where they are coming from - they are seen as purveyors of the highest standards and if these aren't met, they won't include a hotel in their list.

It's frustrating for me, I've put a lot into building this relationship and had a great rapport with everyone. But ultimately it makes me feel sad. Sad that Alberto and Yvonne create such beautiful places yet the people who are selected to look after them once they've disappeared onto their next project just don't seem to care. Or not care enough. We've received a list of things that weren't right. They're mainly small maintenance issues, things that would take a couple of hours to put right. But it appears that the general manager doesn't see them or is happy to let things slip. It's the same in the shop. When we came back yesterday, the floor was filthy, the beautiful wooden table we work at was covered in dirt and fag ash and the bin was overflowing. But the person who'd been working at the shop while we'd been away didn't seem to see any of this.

I just don't get it. How can people not see these things. Or how can they not care about something they've been given to run? Do I just care too much? Maybe I do but then again, I've made my name and reputation by delivering at the highest level on the projects that I've been asked to do. When I was running the Society last year, I gave it my all and put my heart and soul into it. After four months of being there, I knew that once the year was over, I'd be moving on to a new place to live. I could have just wafted through those last few months, doing as little as possible but still getting paid. But to me, the most important thing was to make sure the Society was being left on strong foundations and I gave it my all. I'm not blowing my own trumpet or trying to make myself sound better than others but I know what I've put into things and know what has been achieved as a result. It's how I work and the thought of being given a project and not really caring about it makes me shudder. Someone once asked me why I didn't just not deliver on something. I looked at him as if he was mad or had asked me something completely ludicrous and said "I always deliver, that's what I'm known for" - I just don't see the point of doing something half-heartedly - better not to do it at all!

We've now got our work cut out to return the riad to its former glory and sort out all the other issues. I always knew the challenge for me would be coming into things that are already in place but not working well. In the past, I've been involved in setting things up so you can make sure that all that needs to be done gets done at the right time, in the right fashion. This is something very new to me and I hope I can rise to the challenge. I have a reputation here for being strict and having high standards and I hope the people we work with understand the importance of these things and rise to the challenge themselves!

At this moment in time, I don't really know if I can make it happen. I don't question my own ability, I know I can do it. But I'm not sure that other people involved care enough to do what it takes. This is a beautiful operation that is not working well at all......

Sixteen weeks to go!

2008-11-09T05:23:00.001-08:00

It's exactly sixteen weeks to go before my birthday and it's a big one! Yes, somehow I'm going to be turning 40 and I know that means that you're officially old but I don't feel like a nearly 40-year old! I certainly don't feel old and I don't look my age - I've had a couple of people recently guess my age as mid-twenties and when I saw Richard Spring a couple of weeks ago, he said to me "well, you still look like you're twelve and a half!" I appear to have aged in his eyes because before he said I looked like a twelve year old!

I was hoping to turn 40 married and with child or at least pregnant. Unless there is some miracle (and yes, I do believe in miracles!), I don't think it's going to be happening. But I still feel like I want to achieve something specific to mark turning 40 and seeing that most things have fallen into place in my life apart from the married/family thing, I've decided that I'm going to mark 40 by seeing if I can achieve a really flat toned stomach. And an almightly massive party to go on all day long.....

So, I've set myself a goal and a good one at that! Over recent years, I've noticed that my lower belly (ie below my belly button) seems to have a life of its own, one that involves protruding out. It's not a good look, I certainly don't like it so time for it to go. My past attempts at flattening my stomach have been haphazard but now there is a goal! So, ten minutes twice a day, every day until my birthday and lets see what happens! I hope it works, the rest of me is fine and swimming regularly keeps everything toned, everything apart from that belly that is.....

Back in London again!

2008-11-09T01:15:00.000-08:00

Yes folks, here I am back in London again less than two weeks after I was last here. This time it's work-related - Alberto and I flew in for the Luxury Travel Fair. Although it's a public fair, we're looking for agents to work with for both Marrakech and Bali and thought best to see them when they're all collected together in one place.

Bizarrely, I wasn't as excited about coming back this time as I was two weeks ago. Makes me realise that my moods still fluctuate depending on hormones. It's not anywhere as bad as it used to be but there is a distinct difference in moods at various points of the month. Anyway, I digress, eventhough I wasn't falling over with excitement about this visit to London, driving around some of the most beautiful parts of Ibiza on Thursday made me feel wonderful again - the intense rugged beauty of the place takes my breath away time and time again!

We flew into London on Thursday evening, after a full day in the office and then straight to the fair on Friday. Initially Alberto was going to come on his own but then seeing that it's me who has to liaise with the agents, I decided that I should come too as there's little point in him coming alone and handing me a stack of business cards of people that I then need to build up a rapport with. We blazed our way round on the first day and got everything done, only needing to go back yesterday (Saturday) for a meeting with Music Concierge and for me to catch up with friends who were attending the fair.

It's been great seeing people's reaction to the places in Marrakech and Bali. Although these are both busy markets for luxury boutique hotels, I think our two places really do stand in a class of their own due to the design and interiors. I just hope that now we are actually doing some marketing, that we start to see results - Marrakech needs to be busy all year round and Bali needs to take off and fly from the launch date on. The challenge is on!

Yesterday was also the "nine months in Ibiza" mark for me so as always, good to see what has been done and achieved in that time!

On learning Spanish...

2008-10-30T10:11:00.000-07:00

Something's happened to my Spanish. It's like it's had a growth spurt and gotten quite good Maybe a week in London speaking only English and Urdu benefitted my Spanish too! I had Spanish class this morning and managed to say quite a lot and explain quite a lot in Spanish so that was good. And last week I conducted an impromptu meeting in Spanish and actually did okay. We had French to fall back on but when I tried speaking in French, I kept mixing it up with Spanish or having my brain freeze when I was searching for an expression in French so we stuck to Spanish.

My Spanish studying can only be described as haphazard. I've studied properly since July and before that I'd sit down from time to time and study myself. Even with lessons twice a week, I haven't got into a good routine of learning all the vocabulary from each lesson and doing all the homework - apart from half an hour before the class. A lot has happened in the last few months so at times it can be difficult finding the time but feeling that I'd made progress in the last week or so has spurred me on to be more disciplined with the language studying. I know I don't want to be like one of those foreigners who can barely say three words in Spanish although they've lived here for five years. Anyway, I speak Japanese so I have no excuse for not being able to get my head round a new language. It does seem to require a bit more effort now though, maybe my brain cells are getting a little bit old....

When I was at Low Life, I realised that there were Spanish-speaking people at the party and I could understand them. I feel like I can listen in to other people's conversations now, it can be a useful trick to have!

From London to Ibiza.....

2008-10-29T10:03:00.000-07:00

Written yesterday - on the flight from London to Ibiza (with Bruce Parry from "Tribe" sat in the aisle along from me - he's also an island resident).

On the plane back to Ibiza. The trip to London was fantastic and being away from the island for a few days helped me to put into perspective just how much has happened since I moved to the island.

The first trip to London was an emotional rollercoaster. Stressful family encounters coupled with great excitement about seeing friends again. This trip has been far more relaxed and easy, although equally hectic. After spending the first day with family and getting the family time in, I was able to go and see friends and do work-related stuff without any guilt. The one thing about coming back to London is that I generally could do with a holiday after as so much gets packed into a few days!

Seeing close friends and filling them in on Ibiza-developments helped me realise just how much I have achieved in less than nine months. Talking to Didier and Laure, Didier confided that before I left for the island, he was concerned about whether I would find anything truly challenging to do there. I can understand things from his perspective - when people asked me if I knew what I was going to do or if I knew anyone or if I had any contacts for work leads, the answer was always no. I was just going to go and see what happened. I can see why this caused concern for those I was leaving behind to venture off alone. It was less a case of my ability, more a case of whether something for me actually existed there. I was going from a capital city to a small island known for its nightlife - was the challenge there and would I find it? After talking we all realised that yes, I have found something work-wise that is two steps up from what I've done before in an area that I truly love. The challenge is there and I've managed to find it!

Being away for a few days I can appreciate just how much has been accomplished. It's still difficult though when you're living it day in, day out and you know the ups and downs you've been through. One of the things that I find amazing is that my friend Wilding the novelist has gone through a similar process to me with writing his first book. Just after the meditation course in April, we'd been chatting via email and he said that his writing the book was the leap of faith for him that moving to Ibiza was for me. I didn't get it at the time, I sat there thinking "but why is writing a book a leap of faith for you, you're such a brilliant writer?" I thought it was just a question of finding the time to do it.

When we met for a drink in July (just after he'd got a publisher for his book), he told me about stages he went through with the book, three-quarters of the way through but not sure if he could do any more. It was a similar emotion to me questioning day in, day out whether I could make that move work, whether it was something I wanted to do. It was like you hit the bottom chasing a dream and you're left wondering "if this doesn't work or I can't do it, what do I do?"

I confided in him about a particular moment when I felt intensely alone. Wilding being Wilding immediately made fun of me but he was sensitive enough to know that he wasn't stepping over the mark, he made me laugh with his comments. Things are going well with his book deal and we follow each others progress closely, we appear to experience similar emotions going through the process. In some ways, I get more excited about the developments in his life than I do in my own. It's not a case of not being excited about what's happening to me, of course I am. But when you live it, it's sometimes difficult to get your head around what's actually happening, it's just your life and you're living it. I know many people who are high achievers, doing really well in whatever they do but he's probably the only person I know who took a total risk in writing the book, doing something he'd wanted to do ever since he was a boy. You realise that very few people chase their dreams, even work out what their dreams are.

Not much sleep.....

2008-10-26T03:17:00.000-07:00

Since gettting back to London on Wednesday night, I've been averaging about 4 hours sleep a night. The excitement of being here and generally being on top form means that adrenaline surges through my body - and is waking me up at 5 in the morning, regardless of what time I went to bed.

This morning was worse. I got to bed at around 7 after Low Life and then woke up again at 9, unable to get back to sleep again. That's why I'm up early on a Sunday morning blogging away on 2 hours sleep. I know this is going to catch up with me at some point - I just hope that it happens when I'm on the plane back to Ibiza!

Do you read my blog?

2008-10-26T03:13:00.001-07:00

I saw my lovely friend Emily last night at Low Life and she said that she follows my blog. It was great hearing her feedback, it was very positive, she said she found it very inspiring. About a month back in Ibiza, I'd bumped into another friend Ben who said he'd come and visit KSAR. When I asked him how he knew about the shop, he said "I read your blog. You're doing what I dream of doing" - he also said that I was very honest in my writing. I guess I am honest and fairly open but if I'm going through a wobble, I'll elude to it but not go into too much detail until I'm through the other side. I'm like that in real life too so some things never change....

This made me realise that I've got secret blog readers. If you do read my blog, can you send me an email to azrazakir@mac.com to let me know what you think! Thanks - Azra

Low Life

2008-10-26T02:57:00.001-07:00

I went to the Low Life Halloween party last night and it was ace! But I'm not so sure about the going to bed at 7 and then waking up again at 9 bit. At some point in the next few days, I'm going to crash and burn!

Low Life is an ace party in London that I went to religiously for 5 years. They'd usually be on at Valentines and Halloween and sometimes a summer party and a new years eve party the last couple of years. There's always a theme and we'd be encouraged to dress up appropriately - I have had some fairly risque outfits at Low Life over the years.

After I'd booked the flights to London for Kymani and Elias's birthday, I realised that Low Life woud be the same weekend so I could go to that too. It was fantastic - and it is something I miss living in Ibiza. It has a loyal regular crowd so you'd go to Low Life knowing that you'd always see certain friends. You may never see them anywhere else but always at Low Life. I've made lots of friends at Low Life, just as I made lots of friends through the Basement Jaxx parties in Brixton.

As soon as I arrived, I had lots of people asking about Ibiza and how things were going. It's funny but I got asked by some people who I hadn't even told so curious to know how they knew, through the grapevine I guess.

It was good to be back at Low Life and see so many of my Low Life friends. Ruby and Jenna came too (with respective other halves) and I think they loved it too! It was brilliant mixing my Ibiza life with my London life - without them at the party, it would have just been slotting back into my London life but this added another quality to it.

As always, the music was ace, the vibe friendly and the crowd up for a great time. It was bigger than usual, normally there are around 500 people there but last night there were more in the region of 800. With such a great response for tickets, they increased the venue size and therefore capacity. It was very busy but great!

I saw friends I hadn't seen in years. Including Colin and Duncan, good friends of my ex Will. When Will and I went our separate ways, I wanted to stay in touch with Colin and Duncan as they are such lovely boys. But I thought it woudl be awkward so left it. Seeing them again last night gave me the realisation that perhaps now the time is right to pick up the friendship again.

I had planned to leave at around 2. I ended up staying til the bitter end (as always), dancing around in new shoes with high heels, feet aching but refusing to sit down or stop! Mind you, when the party finished, I couldn't walk but luckily had some flat shoes to change into so I wasn't too crippled.

A truly fabulous night! Low Life - I love you!

Two lives

2008-10-24T23:55:00.000-07:00

As well as being a fantastic book by Vikram Seth, the title of this post refers to how I'm feeling on this trip back to London. Something I noticed as soon as I arrived (well by the time I got to Liverpool Street) was that it felt like I'd never left, I slipped straight into being back in London. It feels as if I have two lives now, one in Ibiza and one in London - I've got a foot in each and I move between the two and know that I belong in both.

It's a feeling that's already known to me. Having grown up with two very different cultures - British and Pakistani, in recent years I've felt that I belong to two cultures, once again a foot in each and the ability to move between the two in a fairly seamless fashion. I think it's good to be able to do this, your world becomes richer by having two vastly different things in it and I think you appreciate both things more. Feeling that I belong in both Ibiza and London can only be a good thing. To me, it means I do have a life there, a life that contains some of the most important things for me. I'm still connected to my life in London but not tied to it. I may have left London but my life is still here for me. Moving to Ibiza has already made my life richer. I've made friends who live in London but the friendships were formed in Ibiza - maybe our paths wouldn't have crossed in London, we'd never have become friends.

I'll probably come back and post more as it's an interesting theme for me. But now I've got to get ready for a full day ahead!

Back in London again!

2008-10-23T00:34:00.000-07:00

I'm back in London for Kymani and Elias's first birthday, feeling extremely excited about being here and all the people I'll be seeing and the things I'll be doing. I was in a fabulous mood at work yesterday. Quite a few people came into KSAR and my sparkly mood was on full display. I put it all down to excitement of London. On my way to the airport, I thought back to how I'd been feeling when I'd been going to the airport 3 months earlier, on my last trip back. It really is amazing how things can change in the space of a few months.

When I came back in July, my time running up to it in Ibiza had been difficult. I'd been struggling with intense bouts of homesickness, wondering if the move I'd made was worth making if all the people I loved and cared about were somewhere else. You sit there trying to make sense of what you're feeling, how to deal with it, what to do. Nothing concrete had fallen into place with work either which added to the feeling of "is this really what I'm meant to be doing?". I was equally excited then about coming back but it felt different, very different. I was unsure about my future, knowing I had to make a decision about whether to stay in Ibiza or not. I was aching to see my friends, maybe to remind myself that I do have the ability to find the most amazing friendships wherever I may be! Three months ago, my friendship with Ruby and Jenna was still in fledgling stage - three months down the line, my best friends from Ibiza are two of the people I'm most excited about seeing!

Things fell into place with Alberto and work once I returned to the island. It's gone on from there in leaps and bounds, so much so that this trip back includes a couple of work meetings. Now that I know what I'm doing, I can focus my attention on doing that to the best of my ability. Work is proving to be the challenge that I need, that I thrive on and Alberto is an absolute joy to work with. Once again, I know I've lucked out in a major fashion here - after working with Richard Spring at the British Ukrainian Society last year, I didn't think I'd find someone I enjoyed working with so much, so quickly - the stakes had been set quite high. But in Alberto I do find that. Although he's very different to Richard in many ways, there are still similarities that explain why we work well together.

After a couple of decades of working with some truly inspiring, remarkable individuals, I've come to realise that I work best with people who share a similar work ethic to me, display the same drive and determination and an expectation of exceedingly high standards. Our backgrounds may be completely different and we may move in very different social circles, but having the same work ethic means we work fantastically well together. This has been proved to be the case in most of the consulting work I've done. I always seem to find myself working with fully paid-up members of the Conservative party and I can reel off a list of highly inspiring individuals who have placed enormous faith and belief in me - yet our political views are vastly different. It doesn't matter, there's a job to do and we get on and do it as brilliantly as we can. In the world of work, it really is about how the person works, not their political/religious/social preferences (although there are certain qualities that I'd find impossible to work with, even if we shared the same work ethic).

I've also just moved into a large, light-filled 2-bedroom flat above KSAR. I've never lived in a space that feels so big on my own. At present it's a mess as I moved in late on Monday, packed for London on Tuesday night and then flew last night so no time to get things straightened. But at least I'm out of the shoebox and into somewhere that will feel more like a home. It also meanst that friends can come and stay and there's a spare room for them.

Right, I've got to go and call Kymani and Elias to wish them a happy birthday and see if I can go and see them today to give them a birthday kiss and hug. When they were born a year ago, I was in Ibiza on a recce. When the text came through that Claud and Matt had two beautiful little boys (and this is long before I was asked to be one of the godmothers), I was so excited that in my excitement I ended up kissing my phone with the text on it. I'm sure it looked a bizarre sight, girl sat in bar with friends, gets text on phone, jumps around in excitement and starts kissing the phone! At least this year I'll get to cover them in kisses in person!

Dangerous driving.....

2008-10-11T04:26:00.000-07:00

I was driving to the swimming pool in San Antonio this morning when I came across a familiar site - a car turned upside down in a ditch. This was the second one I'd seen this week and is a regular occurence on the island. It prompted me to jot down this post, something I'd been meaning to do for a while now.

It's a bit dangerous driving over here and accidents are a common thing. I know two people who've been involved in very serious car accidents in the last 4 months. They were both lucky not to lose their lives and as I write, one is still unable to walk, the doctors don't know if he ever will but thankfullly he's been making good progress (and hopefully will prove the doctors wrong). The road to Cala Carbo is a particularly treacherous one, a mountain road with lots of sharp bends and turns and a dizzying drop on one side. As soon as it rains, it turns the road into a skating rink yet still people drive too fast and the accidents are numerous. I know of someone else who was a passenger in a car going along this road. A bend was misjudged and the car went down the banks - he's only just come out of a coma.

When I first arrived, I took to driving too fast, particularly along my favourite road that connects Santa Agnes to San Mateau. One night I was driving home and nearly went skidding going round a corner. I slowed down after that. But it's so easy to drive fast here. Often the roads are empty, there aren't any speed cameras and you end up going a lot faster than you suspected. Now I pootle along at a sensible pace, unperturbed by the line of traffic building up behind me.

Driving at night is also a tiring business. There aren't any street lamps so you're negotiating the sharp windy roads in pitch black. This darkness has its benefits - I love seeing the sky flooded with stars - but it makes driving more difficult. You have to keep an eye out for the pot holes that can be found in many country roads. And then there are all the beasts you have to try and avoid. In my time here, I've come across the following strolling along the road that I'm driving on - packs of dogs, cats, lots of sheep, bunny rabbits, hedgehogs, mice, rats and chickens. Actually very few beasts stroll along the roads, most hurtle or skittle around, panicking at the sound of a car. Plus there are inevitably lots of lost souls if you drive anywhere near a club in the early hours....

I think my most amusing driving encounter happened a few weeks ago when I was coming home from Space. It must have been around half three and I took the Es Cubells road back. This is a quiet road, not many people or cars pass it so when I saw a group of people frantically waving me down, I slowed down and stopped. I thought perhaps they'd had an accident and on that road, you're not likely to see any passing traffic so it was my duty as a good citizen to stop and help them out. They peered into the van, looked at me and said "are you the drug dealer?". To which I replied no. Apparently they'd just arrived on the island, were trying to sort out supplies but the dealer hadn't been able to find their villa so they'd all gone onto the road en-masse to flag him down. They were in good spirits though and got excited when they saw the glow-stick around my neck, glowing in the dark. I don't normally drive around with glow sticks but it had been a present from either Harry Sprout or Tayo and I'd put it around my neck and then forgotten about it. Which meant that I drove all the way home, with a faint pink light emanating from the van......

Some 8s

2008-10-09T07:05:00.000-07:00

8 (ocho) in Spanish is a good number, it stands for luck and eternity. As yesterday was the 8th October and I arrived in Ibiza on the 8th February, it was my 8 months anniversary. I celebrated by pondering about my time here so far....

So, I think by general standards I'm doing pretty well! Bearing in mind I turned up here not knowing anyone, without work and not speaking the language, I've been pretty fortunate. It's not entirely true that I didn't know anyone here. A very old friend James has been on the island for about 5 years and although we had very little contact for about 16 years (something to do with going out and him breaking my heart), we'd resumed contact over the last few years. But if truth be told, our friendship tended to be wobbly - it was very hot and cold from his part. I'd never know if he'd act like I was his best friend or someone he barely knew. After a few weeks of this (and some very strange behaviour on his part), I decided to ditch him as a friend because he was pretty useless as friends go and I thought I'd be better off without him. Other island-residents I'd met when I was here last year also tended to be a bit flakey so I scrubbed my slate clean and started afresh!

This meant I pretty much started off my time here without any friends. That was really hard for me, as I've always been surrounded by lovely people. Even when I moved away to America and France, I made some very special friends very quickly. I struggled with missing my friends back in London and there was a time that I wasn't sure I wanted to do this. My time here seems to fall into quarters and the second quarter was tough. During this time, I'd met some lovely people like Ruby and Jenna but it takes time for acquaintances to become friends. Plus I tend to be more reserved when I'm feeling wobbly (a bit like a hermit hiding in a cave really). I think the fact that nothing concrete seemed to be happening on the work front didn't help matters much. If I'd been mad-busy, I'd have had less time to think about how much I was missing my friends and my old life in London. I think the one thing that kept me focussed and sane at this time was the kittens - they made their appearance at the end of the first quarter and Simba and Tykey were with me until the end of the second quarter.

This was when I left for London and once back, made the decision that yes, I wanted to live in Ibiza but needed to touch base with friends a little more to stop me from missing everyone. Once this decision was made, it was just a case of getting back to the island and securing work that would keep me here. Some people will do anything to live on the island but I've never felt it like that. For me to stay, I'd need to feel that I was still moving forwards in what I was doing, that I was still using my previous experience in whatever I did here. I didn't know if that possibility existed but at least I had some idea as to what I was looking for.

Once back, everything happened all at once. Dealing with the death of Simba and Tyke, moving house, being offered full-time work with Alberto. It feels like my life has changed completely in those two months, ever since I got back. I've gone back to living with luxuries like electricity and hot water and no longer need to troop off to the swimming pool to shower and use my hair dryer. Although my lovely friends Ruby and Jenna have gone back to London, I know that I made some great friends here and in some ways I felt more connected with them than I did with other friends who were here visiting. Maybe it's just that when people come on holiday, they're in holiday-mode and I'm in work-mode and the two worlds just don't seem to mix too well. It's something I'd like to make work better next year.

Work has turned out to be the challenge that I need. Alberto asked me to run the shop KSAR and I accepted. It's full of the most beautiful treasures but it's never been busy since it opened last November. There aren't any systems in place so everything is unorganised and chaotic and just not working as well as it could! So it's up to me to make it work. I've got to put much-needed systems in place and raise the profile of the shop across the island to get it busy. I've seen people's reactions when they come in and see the collections - no other shop on the island has the same things we do and everything is truly beautiful - we just need to spread the word far and wide. It feels a bit like the Society when I was running that, it was up to me to pull everything together and push it forwards to make it succeed. I've had moments of panic where I've thought "I don't know if I can do this, I don't know if I can make it succeed" but that's pretty normal for me. I remember when I first started at the Society, having moments of panic in the early days, wondering if I could do what was required - and that all turned out okay in the end.

In addition to the shop, I'm also Director of Sales and Marketing for their boutique hotel in Marrakech, the Ryad Dyor and may be involved with the boutique hotel they've got opening in Bali in a few months. The Ryad Dyor is a little bit like the shop, breathtakingly beautiful but just not as busy as it should be. Having looked at the competiton, our riad is a world apart because of the unique stylishness of Alberto and Yvonne but once again, we need to do all we can to raise the profile of the riad and get it full all year round! This role means regular trips to Marrakech, with the first one planned for November and I can't wait!

The role also means that I have to establish contact with agents that look after boutique luxury hotels and once again, I find myself doing one of the things I do best - going outside, meeting people to work with, building a rapport and using this to help us get to where we want to get to. It was one of the things I enjoyed the most about the Society and I'm pretty happy to find it here too. Finally, Alberto and Yvonne are a joy to work with. Amazingly creative with an eye for style that I've never seen before. The way they put things together is really inspiring, at times I find myself wondering if I'll ever be as good as them but even if I don't have quite the eye they do, I know that I'm bringing other much-needed skills to make the whole thing work.

In a nutshell, where work is concerned, I think I may have found something that gives me as much as the Society did and that's really something. Yvonne I don't see so often but I work closely with Alberto and he is as much a joy to work with as Richard was at the Society. I think I'm very lucky in that I always seem to find amazing people to work with and once again, it seems to have happened!

Now that work and home-life are more settled, I find myself looking to put a bit more order into areas of my life that got a bit chaotic. I've realised that I need to do regular exercise (my daily swimming had disappeared over the summer) and eat well. Without these two things, I find myself getting grumpy, particularly if I'm sat in front of the computer all day. I've embarked on a new regime that I'm easing myself gently into - it involves swimming three times a week, going running, cycling (when I've got a cycle) and getting back into my ashtanga yoga practice. I went from doing ashtanga two or three times a week in London to doing nothing here. I looked around for classes or teachers but didn't find anything. But I tried doing the primary series to a DVD and it was just like being in a class again, with the teacher guiding you through the series. So that's been earmarked as a regular thing to get in to!

I'm also going to make a bit more effort with my Spanish classes. When I was studying by myself, the course made you learn vocabulary and continually test yourself until you knew all the words. I'd be learning about a 100 new words each week. Now, although I go to classes twice a week, I'm not making the effort to learn the words in the same way and it's starting to get on my nerves. I'm finishing chapters in the book but if you asked me anything about a past chapter, I'd struggle to remember anything. So, more effort on the Spanish front! I have actually made progress in the time I've been here and can understand quite a lot. But inevitably I get frustrated if I don't feel I'm doing as well as I should be and so time to change that.

So, eight months in, things are going well, really well. I'm over my bout of homesickness and busy and settled in my life, challenged by the work I'm doing. I've made friends and have lots of new people to hang out and forge friendships with over the winter months. I haven't met my future husband yet which is a shame as it would be pretty cool for that to happen but there seems to be so much going on in my life at the moment, that perhaps the timing is just not quite right!

HRH Prince Baggy of Santa Agnes

2008-10-07T10:23:00.001-07:00

Regular readers of my blog will know that I used to post about the cats and kittens a lot. After the death of Simba and Tykey and moving house, I haven't written anything about the rest of the family, Little Red and Baggy but they remain in my thoughts as they're pretty special cats.

I thought it time for Baggy to get his own post as he is quite a character and deserves the mention eventhough he's still living in Santa Agnes and I'm here in Cala Carbo.

When I arrived at the house, Little Red and Baggy (they're siblings) were about 6 months old. They still didn't have names, didn't really belong to the house but were fed there with the other 3 cats. I soon gave them names and got to know them a little better. Little Red was always a friendly little thing but Baggy (short for Bagherra, the black panther in The Jungle Book) was a really paranoid, jumpy kitten that you couldn't get anywhere near. It was impossible to touch him or stroke him, if you got to close, he'd have this panicked look and go hurtling off. Sometimes I'd walk into my bedroom and see Little Red curled up on the corner of the bed, with Baggy curled up next to her. The minute he saw me, he'd leap up in fright and hurtle off, usually skidding on the tiled floor. The closest I ever got to him was one time when I was in bed reading. Red had come into the room, jumped up on the bed and was snoozing on my lap. Baggy saw this, probably decided that it looked comfortable and joined him. So he sat on my lap for a while but at no point could I move or attempt to touch him. In some ways he reminded me of my nephew Adam, they have a similar highly-strung sort of personality and these little fangs that stick out a little.

One time when I was sat on the porch, he came close enough and hung around for long enough that I could stroke him. That lasted about 3 seconds before he took a swipe at me and skittled off. But those 3 seconds were enough to tell him that being stroked is a very nice thing and perhaps he'd like more of it. Little Red wandered over to where I was sat and purred for a bit of attention so I started stroking her. The next thing I knew, Baggy had come up and shouldered her out of the way and taken up her place so he got stroked instead. It was a comical moment and the point where Baggy and I really started to become friends.

After that moment, he was up for some loving whenever he could get it. If he saw any of the other cats getting any attention, he'd be straight over wanting some himself. He was still a bit skitty and nervous, prone to swipe so I refrained from picking him up or putting him on my lap. But one time when I was sat reading, he jumped up onto my lap and sat there being stroked. Then he started climbing closer and closer to my face until his cheek was right up against my cheek and he stayed there for ages. This became one of his favourite positions and if he ever came and sat on my lap, inevitably he'd be snuggling right up against my cheek. He'd come running over whenever he heard me arriving back home and then climb into the van through the open window. Once the kittens were born and got most of my attention, this was really the only time that he'd get some cuddling from me and he used to make the most of the opportunity.

Once the kittens were born, all the other cats kept well away from them and Little Red. Apart from Baggy. I don't know if it was a family thing as he was their uncle or if he was just after some extra food but he was always trying to get into their room. I was a bit nervous at first as I remember some Pakistani rumour about tom cats (and he still had his bits at this point) eating kittens and I didn't want to find out if it was true or not. So we kept him out of the room although he'd try and sneak in whenever he could. A few days after he was neutered, I walked into the kittens room to find him all snuggled up with Little Red and the kittens (see photo). It really was a heart-warming sight. Even when she got up and left, he stayed there looking after the babies and giving them a good clean - amazing!

Baggy never had a miaow until the kittens were born. Or maybe he had a miaow but never used it. Once they were here and were a little bit older, he'd miaow to call them - I soon got to know all the different cats and their miaows. He used to hunt for them, depositing mice and lizards in their room. Once Fluffy, Lady and Splodge had gone to their new homes and just Simba and Tyke were left, the four of them (Little Red, Baggy, Simba and Tyke) moved around like a little family unit. They'd all come on sunset walks with me and hurtle around the ploughed fields like crazy things. Simba and Baggy were particularly good friends and would often disappear together.

I don't think I've ever known a cat like Baggy. He's a funny little thing, he'd never miaow for food but would come after you for attention or a cuddle. He's completely greedy though and would gobble up anything that was going, I affectionately called him the hoover. He struck me as a cat who just really wanted to be loved. In all the photos above, he's with at least another cat, rarely did you find him on his own. He was a wild thing when we met but with love and patience, he became one of the most affectionate cats I've ever come across.

From time to time, I think of Little Red and Baggy. After the kittens died, the two of them would sneak into my bedroom each night and sleep at the end of my bed. I wanted to bring them with me but wasn't sure that it would be possible in the new place. I may be moving into a bigger flat just above the shop. If I'm allowed to have some pets here, I've decided that "Operation Cat-Nap' will be conducted. Basically this will involve going back to the house and secretly taking Little Red and Baggy. I know I should really tell Bea but I have no desire to have any contact with her. Plus she'd probably be happy if there were 2 less cats at the house. Stay tuned for updates on the mission - if it happens it won't be until January as I'm going to be travelling a lot over the next few months but once I'm back for at least a month, then it'll be time!

My take on internet dating

2008-09-29T09:50:00.000-07:00

Some more of my musings on Myspace, this time on internet dating. I tried it for a few months but it didn't work for me as I'm still single. However, I did make one wonderful friend Wilding and we remain great friends - he's one of the few people I know who is off really chasing a dream and a long-cherished desire so we always compare notes on how we getting on with our respective leaps of faith! So if the only thing that internet dating gave me was Wilding, it was a resounding success! Written on the 9th October 2006.

The etiquette of internet dating

Although I said I'd never do it, I have just dabbled in internet dating. It's actually been quite amusing - so I thought I'd bring some hints and tips for anyone considering it, plus my own experience of it.

First things first, even though I was very reluctant to even consider it, it's been an interesting experience. Always thought that internet dating sites would be full of sad loser desperate types. Of course, they are out there but I was pleasantly surprised at how many really interesting people were on the site. Does depend on which one you look at - I reckon the best site for like-minded people is the Guardian one - match.com has far too many boring, average types for my liking!

The other thing I struggled with is that the two times I've met people and fallen in love, it's been a very random thing. Call it serendipity or fate or whatever but it's not something I've gone out looking for, it's just happened. And I'm not sure it's something you can make happen. It's very easy to go out with someone just for the sake of going out with someone, it's far more rare to meet someone who really makes you go "wow" and fall over. But I know it does happen!

In true Azra style, once I got over my great reluctance, I was very excited about the whole thing and being the eternal optimist, had visions of meeting all these amazing boys who'd naturally all become my new-found best friends. And there'd be a really special one who I'd live happily ever after with. In fact I was so excited putting my profile together over the August Bank Holiday that I forgot to go to carnival! But I always go to carnival and it appears I was missed - it was a bit embarrassing mumbling something about not being up for it when people asked where I'd got to, when in fact I'd been fabricating a profile for myself and hanging out on an internet dating site.

My first conversation was great! I think he just couldn't resist my conversation starter "People born in 1969 are generally unforgettable characters. Discuss" . Obviously he was born in 1969 and I was gently blowing my own trumpet because so am I! I tried this line on a few other people but it didn't work so well - possibly because they weren't born in 1969.

Our conversation went back and forth over a couple of evenings, covering loads of different topics and there seemed to be a real rapport. And he soon very gently suggested meeting up - for tea and cake and plotting against Tony Blair (don't worry, he's not some crazy fundamentalist). Now tea and cake might not sound very exciting but I actually prefer the non-date thing. Takes the pressure off me - I don't like going on dates - they make me squirm. I get very flustered trying to work out if I fancy someone (which usually means I don't) - and it's very awkward if they like you and it's not reciprocated (more on this later).

Only trouble was that you can only really do tea and cake in the afternoon. And that means at the weekend. Neither of us was free for a couple of weekends. In which time something must've happened (like he fell in love with someone else) because he forgot all about tea and cake with me. Oh dear!

Now I'm not sure what correct internet dating etiquette is but I'm not doing very well. On the Guardian site, people will become a "fan" of yours but never email you. I liken that to someone admiring you from a distance but never having the balls to come up and talk to you. I think people do that in the hope you're so delighted you have some fans that you instigate the conversation. I tend to ignore my fans unless they have a really interesting profile (and are not mingers).

Right, I'm going to come back and write some more later but now I need to sleep.

Internet Dating - Part 2

Back to the etiquette of internet dating. So I've talked about fans - I have yet to become a fan of someone without sending them a message. Just figure that if someone looks interesting, you might as well send them a sparkly conversation starter based on something you've read on their profile, not apply the wallflower approach. If anyone makes the effort of emailing me, even if I think "no I don't think so", I'll still be polite enough to email back as I think it's rude just to ignore someone. However, there was one man "blackenuf" who emailed me, saying how he'd seen my photo and wanted to get to know me more. Now the strange laws of attraction have meant that I've never really been attracted to people from ethnic minorities, although I myself am an ethnic one. And the clue's in the name as to the ethnic make-up of blackenuf. I had a quick look at his profile and he kept going on about the state of his teeth and how he was going to get something done about them and I thought "I don't know how to say no so I'm going to say nothing".

Now although I'm quite polite and will always email someone who contacts me even if I'm not interested, this is not always the case. I've sent messages to people (usually some witty one-liner based on their profile) and you get ignored. The real-life equivalent of this would be making the effort to go up and say hello to someone, to have them look you up and down and then turn round and walk off. I've never actually had this happen but can only imagine it would be awful. It seems to be quite acceptable on the internet but I still think it's a bit rude.

The Guardian site has a top 20 of the most popular profiles (ie the people who've been contacted the most). I've never made it on there but most of the girls are pretty blonde things who look like they probably work in fluffy PR and live in Clapham - no real chance for me then! Amongst the men in the top 20 are a few who've contacted me via email, I've replied and then I've been ignored. This leads me to believe it's a game of tactics with these particular gents - email as many girls as possible, they'll usually politely email back even if not interested - and that makes said-gent look incredibly popular with the ladies and make it in to the top 20.

There are also those conversations that go back and forth via email. It's nice enough but not really setting your world alight. The real-life equivalent would be finding yourself at a party where you're talking to someone - and you can keep the conversation going - but there's no real connection and secretly you're thinking "hmm how do I get away without looking rude as I feel a bit bored". On the internet it seems ok to just stop talking and wander off, don't think it would be quite so good in real life!

It can be quite amusing reading other people's profiles. I'll often glance at other girls profiles to see what they've written (particularly the ones in the top 20 to see if I can get some tips) - and they're probably wondering why some girl's checking them out. Some profiles are quite unimginative - and you find yourself wondering if they're like that in real life. One that made me laugh was a woman who said "I am very good company and have a zest for life. I love to travel - and am interested in almost everything." Can you really be interested in almost everything? Surely that's not possible - you'd have to spend all your time keeping up with all the things you interested in and you'd never have time to meet people. Maybe that's why she ended up on the internet - she just doesn't have the time to actually leave her house! Her ideal partner would be handsome and completely self-sufficient. Wouldn't most men describe themselves like that (apart from blackenuf who said he was struggling when it came to money).

Always interesting to see how people rate themselves when it comes to looks. Most people describe themselves as attractive - I had to tick that box as there wasn't one that said "drop dead gorgeous". But some people do tick the "very attractive" box. I think this should be reserved for model-types. Some of the very attractive people maybe shouldn't have ticked that box but you've got to admire them for it - at least they love themselves and don't have any issues with poor self-image.

Right, that's part 2 finished. Part 3 will actually cover some dates (yes there have been some) but it's time to get on with some work now.

Leap and the net will appear!

2008-09-29T09:43:00.000-07:00

I have a Myspace profile but hardly look at it now. For some reason, I logged on today and realised that I actually started blogging there. Some interesting/funny things written, here's another one of my pieces (apologies for the bad language, I guess I wanted to get my point across!) - written on the 12th February 2006.

Leap and the net will appear

As I've spent the last few years doing my own thing (no more being a corporate slave for me - woo hoo!), thought I'd scribble down some of the important things I've learnt from setting up and running my own business:

- create your own opportunities
- choose something you are truly passionate about
- be prepared to work your fucking arse off
- accept that success does not come overnight
- celebrate success when it does come
- take risks
- create your own unique style - don't copy others
- start small and build it up
- don't become stale - keep moving forwards
- do it for love not money
- believe in yourself and what you're doing
- have a very clear vision of what you're trying to achieve
- when the going gets tough (and it will) - stick with it and don't give up
- be brave - my motto for the last 3 years has been:

"Leap and the net will appear"

When you're off chasing your dreams, your strengths and weaknesses take on much greater significance. Use your strengths to your best ability and amazing things really do happen. Let your weaknesses get too much of a look-in and you risk everything tumbling down around you.

Attitude is really important too. Negativity is the killer of creativity. Brash, cocky attitudes aren't great either. You need a healthy dose of realism, not cynicism.

Support others and they will support you. I'm always amazed by the amount of love, support and encouragement I've received from other people, often those that I don't know that well. I'd like to think that's because that's what I give back. If your attitude's right, people are totally behind you, wanting you to succeed.

Life is full of opportunities - some come your way, others you create. It's your decision whether you grab those opportunities or let them pass you by. I know what I'd always choose.

Going back in time.

2008-09-29T09:28:00.000-07:00

Over the last few years, I've done a regular interiors update - the next one is due soon but this time it will encompass my life in Ibiza, not just my work. The last one I did was back in June 2007, just after I'd decided to move to Ibiza. I thought I'd drop it in here as it gives some insight into my thinking when I made this crazy decision!

From my Myspace blog : I do an interiors update every few months - here's the latest one, with the latest news - I'm moving myself and my lovely little interiors business to Ibiza!

There's been lots going on since my last update a few months ago. The latest news (and possibly the most exciting) is that I decided last week to move myself and my interiors business to Ibiza. Next year. Possibly for good!

More about that later - here's what else I've been up to. We've just finished our first bespoke kitchen - it's gorgeous and I can't wait to do more! I've also been juggling two jobs - my interiors projects and working as a freelance consultant for the British Ukrainian Society (well I run the Society). It's a return to my former world - and juggling the two seems to work for me. When I've done just one, I miss the other (although they're vastly different) - there's something very exciting about being right in the centre of international/political projects. But I would never give up interiors, having worked so hard to build up the business.

I was approached to run the Society last December. A consultant I used to work with was involved with the project and recommended me to the other Directors. I got a call completely out of the blue, quickly put a CV together and following a meeting with the Chairman, accepted the position. It's a funny world that I find myself in - normal recruitment procedures don't apply and I get to negotiate things on my terms. Just as well, I've always hated doing job interviews, nearly as much as I hate going on dates. I prefer it when things just happen, doing away with normal procedures!

I was slightly bemused when I started the day job as the work involves running a series of events over the year and getting members to join the Society. One look at my CV will show you that I've never actually done either of these things before. But I've become quite adept at diving into new things and learning (making things up) as I go along. Frankly I love the challenge - I get bored very easily and the thought of days spent doing stuff I was good at a year ago fills me with dread. The other thing I love about the day job is that I get to meet and work with lots of new people and organisations. I've always been pretty good at socialising (apart from when I was a kid and took ages to make any friends) and I like the fact that my personality helps the Society. If I was super-efficient but grumpy and unapproachable, it would spell disaster for the organisation!

On a more practical note, knowing I have a regular income has taken a massive weight off me. I didn't realise quite how much the pressure of having to constantly find new projects and generate an income (and not a small amount either) was worrying me until it was lifted. I've been fortunate that work has always come my way. But there have been moments when I've not been sure where that next job is coming from and this has often induced a sense of panic.

I'd never change the choices I've made in the last few years. I'd never give up interiors to go back to the safety and security of being employed. In fact, with the day job I was offered proper employment but I turned it down, preferring to be a freelance consultant and therefore still being my own boss. However, the pressure of the last few years took its toll healthwise. My insides got all messed up with stress and totally threw my hormones out of balance. And having been there, off-kilter hormones can ruin you, if you let them. I was in and out of the GP's for about a year and a half but they were absolutely rubbish, wanting to treat the symptoms but not trying to find out what was really going on inside. In the end, I went to see a kinesiologist, found out was was going on and got it treated properly.

Kinesiology is amazing - it's like having a total internal check-up to see that everything's working as it should be. After the first round of treatment, I still wasn't feeling great. During my second appointment, the kinesiologist found that something was still causing problems inside. It turned out that a fairly aggressive stomach bug I'd picked up the last time I was in Pakistan hadn't been completely eradicated by antibiotics. The bacteria had spent the last 4 years moving into all my internal organs and putting quite a bit of stress on my body - and I had no idea about any of this! It's amazing I've managed to achieve anything these last few years as my insides have been falling apart. Irony is that I haven't actually been physically ill in all that time.

Anyway, things are back on track healthwise and I'm nearly at the end of my course of treatment. It's made a huge difference - at one point I was taking so many supplements and vitamins that I had to take them in two shifts, unable to swallow so many pills in one go. It's been a real wake-up call and I know that I have to look after myself and be quite gentle. And it's no bad thing to briefly visit the darkest recesses of your mind, although I'd like to never go there again.

I timed a yoga holiday in Ibiza with the Iast few weeks of treatment to help recharge batteries. And that's where I was last week when I made the decision to move myself and the business out to the island. I first went to Ibiza in 2002 and immediately fell in love with the island - there's something about the vibe that really suits me. I started thinking of ways to move out there but a few weeks after that first trip I was made redundant and my world turned upside down. I've been back every year since and always had that feeling "I want to live here" but never thought any more of it. I love London and the life I have here but I want a better quality of life, something simpler and less stressful.

I also know I'd love to have children. It may happen, it may not - but as I lay on Benirras beach I started questioning whether I'd want to raise children in London. I love the city but I think my time here is coming to an end. And I think when the time's right, things happen. On this visit to the island, I made some great contacts through the yoga retreat. I may even have my first kitchen commission - I haven't spoken to my builders about this yet but I figured that if we can have bespoke kitchens made in Poland and brought to London, we can just as easily have them taken to Ibiza. There's a lot of money on the island and people are moving away from the traditional Spanish rustic style towards a more sleek, modern look - perfect for the work that I do.

Another plus is that my best friend from my late teens, early twenties has been a resident of the island for about 5 years now (he's the yoga teacher) - it makes a difference knowing that I'm about to move my life to somewhere new but there are already old friends there to help me once I arrive!

Exciting times ahead! I won't be leaving London til next year, February at the earliest. It gives me time to wrap things up here, get my flat rented out and finish the contract for the day job. And if I get out there and need to do a bit of tiling or decorating in the beginning to tide me over, well that's not a problem - I'm pretty good at those things! As always, a massive thank you to everyone who's believed in me, encouraged me, supported me, given me leads and business or checked I'm okay when I've gone quiet for a while - it's my little journey but it feels quite special that it's been shared with so many!

See you all in Ibiza, if not before!

Much love

Azra xx

From London to Ibiza and back....

Brighton Half Marathon - 17 days to go....

Brighton Half Marathon - 9 miles, 10 miles, 11 miles....

Brighton Half Marathon - only 51 days to go...

My 30-day challenge - Take 2

My 30-day challenge - Day 17

My 30-day challenge

The Power of a few words of encouragement and belief...

On running....

31 reasons to do Arbonne

My Arbonne "Why" has changed dramatically....

Kinesiology - round forty seven....

Graham Kerner RIP

Anonymous posters....

2009 - a rather strange year...

My favourite song of 2009....

Numb...

End of a decade

Been a long time....

Yoga

My dad's operation

My parents and Arbonne....

Sleep....

What Azra did next...

From London to Ibiza and back.....

London Book Fair

London Book Fair Masterclass - How To Get Published

In London...

The funny things that remind you of certain people....

Where did that last month go?

Sweating it out at Bikram

I thought that....

A lot's happened...

Very quickly

Oh dear......

I had the conversation

The plan

Happy new year and welcome 2009!

Carrying on where I left off

I'm having a *gulp* what have you done? moment....

My favourite song of 2008

Feeling excited about the festive season!

If truth be told.....

Marrakech - Part One

Barcelona

So I finished the book...

The Kite Runner

Marrakech

On the move. Again....

The world works in mysterious ways.....

It's really cold here!

So easily pleased, it doesn't take much!

Paris

Nature or nurture?

Two lives

Where has the moon gone?

Feeling just a little bit sad about it all.....

Sixteen weeks to go!

Back in London again!

On learning Spanish...

From London to Ibiza.....

Not much sleep.....

Do you read my blog?

Low Life

Two lives

Back in London again!

Dangerous driving.....

Some 8s

HRH Prince Baggy of Santa Agnes

My take on internet dating

Leap and the net will appear!

Going back in time.

I'm having a gulp what have you done? moment....