I'm on a mission

Mission 043: Where Susan uses her powers for the common good

2010-10-13T12:47:00.009+13:00

This poor old blog. Mouldering in a corner, gathering dust.
At least it would gather dust if it was a tangible thing, rather than a virtual space. I've even considered deleting it. My other blog seems much more useful.

Though this blog still has some uses. Google rates it. So as I have a very important other site on the go, it's time to use this one to give it a plug. I'm not an online guru by any means, but I know enough to know that inbound links are like veins of life for a new site.

Connecting Waterview is a new community website for my suburb, Waterview, in Auckland, which aims to mitigate the effects of a motorway connection - the so-called Waterview Connection - which is planned to go right through the area. Thankfully, the New Zealand Transport Agency have decided that the bit that goes closest to us will be a tunnel. However, they seem to think that it's acceptable to stick a 7 story unfiltered emissions vent and an enormous control building right in the middle of the neighbourhood - next to a primary school. It's town planning in the dark ages. And it needs to change.

Waterview is a small suburb but not unimportant. It has one of the most diverse communities I've lived in, which is a heart-warming thing. People are friendly too - at my place, the fence adjoins five other properties, and I know all my neighbours' names – and their dogs' and kids' names too. I also know people across the road, down the road and several streets over. I've never lived anywhere where I've been so connected to the people in my 'hood.

It seems a shame that the motorway project has been dubbed 'The Waterview Connection' when the real Waterview Connection is what's going on inside the community. And that's what I love about the Connecting Waterview site – it aims to build on that and make it better, despite the big old bad-ass motorway and tunnel.

And that can only be a good thing.

I project managed and wrote the site, so I am biased, of course. It was even a paid job, but if I added up the time I've spent on it, I would be working for well under the minimum wage. But hey, life isn't always about cash.

This time, it's about community.

Through Connecting Waterview, I hope our community's better off.

So Google – and the rest of you – go find it. Use the links, or find it at www.connectingwaterview.org.nz

And while you're there, add your name to the Waterview Connection submission.

Waterview will thank you for it. And so will I.

Mission 042: Where Susan sets some limits

2009-07-09T15:31:00.004+12:00

My book is not progressing as fast as I'd like it to. Not nearly as fast.

Some might be satisfied with 2,000 words a week. But not me. Not now. Not for the finish line I have in sight. It's as painful and laborious as a snail in PVA glue.

So a new deadline. Time to put some of the books away; these other authorial voices that have been tagging along, interjecting while I write. The last one was Marilynne Robinson - Gilead. Wonderful book. Spectacularly realised voice. But not the voice I want drawling over my shoulder putting my own characters off.

So, bye other books. Sayonara. Ciao. I'm taking a little break (that's not a mission by the way, just a declaration of general intent). See you in the spring.

My latest goal: 2,000 words a day (5 days). 10,000 words a week.

Oh, what else. Oooooh, you need a photo (in keeping with the last mission).
Hmm. What to put in?
Er, here, have this one. It's a bit random, but I didn't promise to make the photos relevant, after all.

Mission 041: Where Susan adds some necessary accessories

2009-06-28T15:26:00.008+12:00

It is a cold, grey, rainy winter's day here in Auckland. It's one of those days when the most appealing things in life have cushions or pillows. (Hello DVDs and sofa. Hello books in bed.) The sky outside is a cool monochrome London sort of grey - the kind that permeates all other colours, so even a lush green garden looks somehow less alive.

You'd think that in this house, we might not notice the extra grey so much, or bother about it. The Buckwell after all is an architect, with a strong leaning towards minimalism. (Colours are for accents.) Sometimes, I think if he had his way, even the sofa would be made of concrete.

We have a blue-grey dog.
A charcoal-grey sofa.
An elephant-grey throw on the end of the bed.
A teeny tiny hallway painted a deep shade of Dulux Maraetai grey.
Our steel-grey and black Mini Cooper S sits on the grey concrete driveway.
I am wearing a long cowl-neck jumper, striped with shades of grey and white.
The bathroom is bedecked with mouse-grey towels, and a bathmat the same shade as the dog.
Even our black and white cat - who just now came in sodden from the rain, stalked past me and jumped on the bed, putting brown muddy footprints on the white, grey and and green duvet cover - would look grey if you mixed his fur up better.

I am not complaining about the grey. But today's grey is precisely noticeable because until now, we have had weeks of gorgeous winter weather: lots of blue sky days, crisp frosty mornings and clear chilly evenings - perfect for sitting by the fire with a glass of pinot noir.

In fact, even my blog looks kind of grey today. And it's easy to see why - there are no pictures!
So tis born my new mission. More pics for the kids!

Just like the bright pink and orange cushions on the grey sofa, and the white, purple and red Danish light shade in the grey hallway, a few slapdash photos are necessary accessories to brighten my blog.

So here is today's. Our grey dog. And what a handsome chap he is.

Ah, what the hell, while I'm at it, have another one. This is the cat, posing on the grey sofa. Note all the fur he has kindly rubbed all over it because it's just after I vacuumed.

Update: Mission 037

2009-05-26T14:00:00.003+12:00

I missed the 20 May deadline to get the Buckwell to get the drawings into council, to keep me on track to get the extension built at number 14. It could still happen, but I'm realistic that one missed mini deadline makes the chances slimmer of making the big deadline.

And now there is one other thing that might cause the mission to fall over.

The Buckwell read the blog.

The Buckwell never reads the blog. But several days ago, he read the newest entry, then decided to go for the back issues. I tried to distract him with a glass of whiskey and a plate of cheese, but he was having none of it. He read back, and back, until he got to Mission 037.

He said nothing while he read. Instead, he just smirked a little, and raised his eyebrows in a sort of a "we'll see, shall we", expression. Then, when he finished, he looked over at me on the sofa, where I was busy pretending to read a book, and trying desperately to make out that I did not care that he was reading the blog, and even if he did, then if I did not acknowledge that he'd read the blog, then he would not comment and forget about the blog, and I could continue my machinations to see it through to its deadline.

He looked at me with a faint smile. "That's funny," he said.
"But is it realistic?" I asked.
"Maybe," he said.

I got my hopes up - perhaps my extension mission was not dead in the water!

But it is now several days later, and the extension drawings are still in a pile gathering dust...

Mission 040: Where Susan saves the planet

2009-05-21T17:58:00.005+12:00

It is 5:58pm.
The house is freezing.
We do not have a heater.
Although we do have a fireplace, in which I have set a fire, ready to go.
I want to light it.
Badly.

But the longer the fire is on, the more wood I burn, and the faster the planet burns too.
Bloody carbon.

Therefore, my mission is to hold out until the Buckwell gets home and there are two of us to damn the planet. Then, and only then, will I light the fire.

In the meantime, I will stay at the laptop, moving my frozen fingers rapidly over its warm keyboard, until the euphoria caused by writing causes the rest of my body to emit a toasty literary glow.

What bollocks I am talking. Forget it. This is a f**king stupid pointless mission.
I'm putting on the fire now. And opening a bottle of wine.

Mission 039: Where Susan turns an accident into a piece of literature

2009-05-21T17:30:00.004+12:00

I have just had a slight and foolish accident which, hopefully, is not going to result in any outward physical injuries. It was caused, inadvertently, by one of my damn library books (21 at last count). It was not, before you jump to conclusions, caused by the leaning tower of books on the bedside table.
Instead, I was in the study/laundry/library scanning several pages of the Gotham Writers Workshop book, as it is already a few days late, and although I am loathe to give it back, I realise that if I keep it too much longer, that it will be cheaper to buy my own copy. So I have scanned 50 pages to keep me going until I order one from Amazon (I would use Fishpond, but they don't have the most up-to-date version - boo, Fishpond; sort yourself out). As I finished scanning, I picked up the laptop to return to the lounge. As I did so, it slipped and clouted me on the nose. Don't ask what sort of a position you need to be in to cause this sort of an injury; suffice to say it is awkward. (The study/laundry/library/storeroom is very small and requires a highly able person, preferably without snowboarding knee ailment.)

I spent the next five minutes with a packet of frozen edamame clamped against my nose and upper lip, until I could no longer bear it (today is the coldest day of the year so far).

It is now almost half an hour later. It still hurts. I don't think it is broken. But I will not be happy if I get a bruise. (Athough it is likely.)

So I am going to turn this unfortunate incident into a poem. What can I say. I'm a writer. That's what I do. (Unless I am procrastinating.) Deadline 25 May.

Mission 038: Where Susan has a clear-out

2009-05-06T11:11:00.005+12:00

10 signs that autumn has officially arrived at our house:

We have used the fire (twice)
We are (mostly) wearing socks inside instead of bare feet (must buy slippers).
The leaves have fallen off the peach tree and the fruit is ripening on the mandarin tree
We are no longer drinking sauvignon blanc, but are preferring hearty reds, such as shiraz voigners and cabernet sauvignons.
Instead of talking about going to Waiheke Island for the weekend, we are talking about buying snowboards and going to Ruapehu.
We had a chorizo sausage casserole thingy last night for dinner.
The barbecue is gathering dust.
My tan has faded.
In last night's shopping we bought two Ponsonby pies and bunged them in the freezer, anticipating that they might become a warming Saturday lunch.
Quinces and pumpkins are really cheap at the moment.

Can't complain. After all, it will officially be winter here in three weeks, and some days it still feels as if it could be summer in London. However, although the coat cupboard has started seeing some action, there are lots of clothes that need to be banished, because in our teeny tiny house, there's only enough room for one season at a time. So I present to you - the autumn spring clean. Deadline: 18 May.

Mission 037: Where Susan pushes for more space

2009-05-05T09:29:00.003+12:00

Six months the Buckwell and I have been in our little house, which at 55 m2 consists of:
one lounge
one kitchen
one bathroom
one bedroom
one laundry/study/library/storeroom

It is a very cute house, and just perfect in summer for two people freshly moved back from the UK, from an apartment the same size.

It is not, however, big enough for two people, one cat and a dog. Especially in winter, when the french doors are closed, and the dog has been outside for a wee in the rain and has come back in stinking of wet dog. And the study/laundry/library/storeroom is too cold to write in without gloves and ugg boots on, so the dining table (which is squished into the lounge room) is covered with all manner of folders and books and pens. And three laptops.

Last weekend, some friends rang to see if they could pop in for a visit with their two children, but it was raining, and even though the Buckwell was away, there would have been three adults, two children, one dog and a cat stuffed into one small lounge room. I had to tell them all to go home. I was actually busy writing (that was my legitimate excuse for barring the gate), but really, even if I hadn't been, there's no room at number 14 for rainy day visitors.

In the beginning, we blabbed to plenty of people about how we were building an extension onto our wee house. "It should be done by Christmas," we said to UK-based friends. "You can come and stay."

We meant Christmas 2008, although thankfully, no-one took us up on the offer, or they would've been camping in the back garden. And now Christmas 2009 is looking increasingly less likely, too. The trouble is that our architect (the Buckwell) has too much on his plate to have time to draw up the extension and get it into council. And, ironically, the house is too small to work in without distractions.

So from today, I am going to set some deadlines, clear some space, and motivate the Buckwell into getting it done. He has no idea that I am setting these deadlines, and is unlikely to read this blog and find out. So this mission is more about motivating someone else, rather than me doing.

These are the deadlines:
Drawings into council: 20 May
Obtain quotes on work: 1 June
On site by: 25 June
Extension complete by: 25 August (just in time for me to have a birthday party in the 'new house').

Wish me luck.

Mission Update

2009-05-04T10:48:00.007+12:00

I've had mixed success lately. So positive news first.

Mission 036 was a success. (!) I managed to refrain from buying books or borrowing any extra books from the library until after 11 April. Of course, on the 14th, I went absolutely bonkers, taking out library books right up to my limit (22 books). I guess I was binging after my book diet. And oh, it felt goooood. Might need to get a sturdier bedside table though...

However, now for the failure: I have not yet grown an aubergine. (Or an eggplant, for that matter.) The damn flowers keep forming and then falling off, despite me taking to them with a cotton bud, poking each flower in return, and swishing it about inside their purple petals like a primitive IVF specialist. And now the plants have started to die off. Not sure if it is a disease, a pest, or just getting too cold for them, but something tells me that my time for aubergines is over for this season. I'll have to pick up my mission again in spring. On a more positive note, though - I have not had to buy tomatoes for the last two-and-a-half months, despite my father telling me that it was pointless planting them last December: "Too late - it'll be a waste of time." HA! It was not a waste at all. Although I concede that they were (are) a little tasteless - probably would have been better planted earlier and I will do that with the next ones. Definitely not a waste though this time. Oh no. No wasting going on. Not even with all the time spent watering and the feeding and the cost of it all. No waste. (Believe me?). The second crop of beans are also coming away wonderfully - although there is something eating them, which is almost making me consider going non-organic. Why won't the birds eat my garden pests instead of the grass seeds? Zucchini plants are about to die off too, sadly, so I will have to go back to buying zucchinis, after almost five months of picking them straight from the garden.

On a complete aside, I would like to have a rant about something grammatical. However as rants don't usually come under the category of missions, you'll have to read it here. (Please do, as I fear greatly that this grammatical failing is becoming more widespread, and a few short minutes of your time can help stop the degradation of language and thus society - do your bit!)

Mission 036: Where Susan tries to exercise self-restraint.

2009-03-27T12:15:00.004+13:00

I admit it. I have a problem.
That's the first step to dealing with it, apparently. Get it out there, acknowledge it. Then you can start dealing with it.
So, my confession: I am a compulsive book collector.

Give me a 'three for the price of two' and chances are, that even though I walked out into any given shop to buy a magazine, or even 'just look' at the new releases, I will leave with three books, and a magazine.

Several weeks ago I joined the library in an effort to counter this tendency, especially as I'm not working at the moment, so I need free books, not three for the price of two, or even one, books (although you must admit that three for one sounds like an especially tempting deal). Besides, while I do my Masters, I need to read as many books as I can. After all, it's research into other types of creative writing. Right? Right.

Anyway, so I joined the Auckland Central Library. First day I got out eight books. Fantastic. I finished one of them a couple of days later, so popped in to return it. And took out five more. Finished one. Took it back, and walked out with another five. I now have 16 books out, teetering by my bed in an unruly stack.

My logical mind tells me that even if I read a book a day, I won't return all those books within the next two weeks. Yet, I also know that next time I go to return one, what will happen is something like this:

1. I walk in calmly, and deposit the book in Returns.
2. I spy the 'New Books' display to my left.
3. I spot 'The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao' on the stand. I think, 'A new Pulitzer prize-winning novel that I haven't read; I must get it now, before someone else snatches it up! Otherwise I might to wait for it.'
4. I grab the book, and walk around to 'Recently Returned Books'. After all, what if a title I've been waiting to read has just been returned? A quick check here could mean I get in before someone else.
5. I find three books by reasonably well-known authors, which I should read at some point in my life. I decide now is as good a time as any, and I add them to 'Oscar Wao'.
6. I decide to visit the Librarian's Choice' stand, just before leaving, just in case there's an interesting book I haven't heard of. I find one, and take it.
7. I take the five books and check them out, stuffing them into various parts of my bag and laptop bag, as I have not brought a carry bag as I only intended to return a book.

So my mission. Next time, I will NOT take out any books, or buy any books, for TWO WEEKS. 11 April is the next time a new book is allowed into the house.
Feasible? I hope so, or the Buckwell is going to declare my book stack a health and safety risk.

Mission 035: Where Susan grows an aubergine

2009-03-26T09:56:00.005+13:00

Okay, so I'm still slacking off. Not a lot of bloggage happening. However, thanks to the recession I now have a bit more time (and bit less money) as my two days a week of work has ended. For now, anyway.
Right now though, I have a new and very important mission. It'll take a few weeks to know whether I have had success.
I am trying to grow an aubergine/eggplant. Obviously I would like to grow many, but just growing one is proving challenging. See, the problem is that aubergines need pollination, like all vegies and fruits. They need the boy flower and the girl flower for this to happen. Yet, despite planting several aubergine plants, so far my plants have been stubbornly refusing to produce more than one flower at a time. And not even at the same time. One plant produces a flower, then it falls off. Another plant produces a flower, which then falls off. And so on, and so on and so on.
Until today, my aubergine plants have been sitting in the garden slowly growing larger (they've been there four months), eating their compost goodness, drinking copious amounts of water, with nothing to show for it. Then this morning, I saw two flowers. At the same time! Successful home aubergine growers recommend hand pollination to boost your chances of getting fruit. That is, you get a cotton bud and wave it round in each flower in turn, several times, to share the pollen, and hopefully fertilise the flower. Then boom, out pops an eggplant several weeks later. Well, maybe not quite that instant.
I can't help feeling that all this cotton bud waving is a bit like a group turkey basting. What a hideous thought. But good for plants. And if it gets me an eggplant or two, it'll be worth it.

Mission 034: Where Susan gets her act together

2009-02-06T09:44:00.008+13:00

Almost three months since I have written in this blog. What a poor effort.
It's so embarrassing that I've decided that a new post should come before this morning's breakfast and shower. Although not before coffee, of course.
Why such sudden slackness? After all, I've moved to the other side of the earth, away, allegedly, from all the cultural attractions of London, to a place that should have allowed me more time to write.
But I didn't factor in the time that it takes to adjust to a new lifestyle. New job, new house, new garden, new pets.
Not long after I wrote the last post, I started working as a contract writer, part time.
I also planted a garden.
Then we got a dog, a Kerry Blue Terrier called Lein.
Then the dog bit the plumber.
So we had to take the dog to a behavioral specialist.
The behavioural specialist cost $170 a session.
So I had to work more hours to pay for it.
Then the cat got into a fight, got an abscess and needed antibiotics crushed and hand fed to him twice a day for a week.
Then he got fleas, and from the fleas, tapeworms. We treated him for both. And the dog, too.
The dog needs to be walked, fed and trained twice a day.
The vegie garden needs to be watered every day, weeded every few days, and monitored for ripening vegetables.
Aphids must be plucked by hand from the young leaves of the new lancewoods I have planted in our front garden.
There has been no time for TV, going to the movies, eating out or going away. Let alone writing.
The funny thing is, this is all normal stuff for most people here. But after living in London with no pets and no garden, it has been hard to adjust to. I'm only just starting to find a balance. But would I change it? Hell no. Here is the dog:

And from this week, the blogging is back.

Mission 033 - Where I learn to make sushi

2008-11-13T18:48:00.004+13:00

Now that I am officially once more residing in New Zealand, there are lots of things that I'd like to do. Things I need to learn how to do. One of these is making Japanese food.
Food is one of my great loves, following close on the heels of sunshine and fresh air, and leading travel by a long neck. While I can't claim to be Michelin-star quality, there are several things I do well, and some that, with a little more attention, I could probably make money from, as long as I'm not drinking wine while I cook it.

I'm pretty good at Italian, Greek and even French. I've tried my hand at simple Indian, Thai and Chinese. But Japanese has always been left to a 'dining out' choice. Bit of a shame really, when I love it so much.

Now, take sashimi. I reckon that's a breeze. All you need is really fresh fish, a very sharp knife and a little bit of hand-eye coordination so you slice the fish and not your fingers. I already have some rather special Japanese knives (bought from the seriously amazing Tokyu Hands store in Tokyo, but that's another story). And I know where to get some fresh fish (Auckland Fish Market). And most of the time, my fingers keep themselves away from sharp implements. Sushi though, has a few more challenges. So this is what I've chosen to get the Japanese ball rolling. Although it's a cliche, it's a great summer starter. And you can buy most of the ingredients in the supermarket, including the bamboo roll thingy. I give myself until November 20th to make it for the first time. Anyone want to volunteer as a guinea pig?

By the way, I will post some piccies of the lovely Japanese ceramic knives here in a day or so. They're sharper than stainless knives, and can cut practically anything, except pumpkin, apparently because they don't flex. Or are pictures of knives a bit weird? Never mind, I know those of you who cook will appreciate my knives. Won't you?

Mission 032: Where Susan stops larking about

2008-10-06T22:49:00.005+13:00

Aha. I knew these months of wandering the world and filling my brain with all kinds of curious cultural facts was bound to come to an end sometime. The money had to run out, and did. The line of travel had to finish somewhere, and has.
Now I am in Auckland, it is raining, and all around me the city is working, eating and...windsurfing, it would appear. Although I'm not really into windsurfing, I would like to be eating, and for that, I need to start... working. My mission is simple: to become gainfully employed.
I checked the paper on the weekend for jobs: nothing doing there in the advertising, media or publishing world. But the field of adult entertainment had lots of openings. (No pun intended!) I also found plenty of other unappealing jobs: cafe staff (no thanks), taxi driving (no chance) and childminding (no patience).
So tomorrow I will start looking seriously - with recruitment agents, friends of friends, job sites and, then, cold-contacting design and advertising agencies. Susan M Wills, copywriter and editor, words in waiting. Here I go, on the other side of the world, off to work.
Wish me luck. And some fine weather.

Mission 031: Where Susan tries to lose some weight

2008-08-25T23:18:00.010+12:00

Ok, tough mission this. I have been travelling in India now for just on a month, and several unknown bacterial visitors have left my body slightly slimmer than it is normally. But several scarves, sarees and bags have made my bag decidedly plump.
It's not too much of a problem for getting around. But now that I'm due to fly out of India, things are coming to a head. I have a 15kg limit on my checked-in baggage (that's the trouble with these low-cost airlines). And my bag is weighing in at around 17 (not including hand luggage. So, somehow, I must slice a couple of kilos off my bag before the 28th August.
Shall I fling a couple of pairs of undies in the bin? Ditch a book onto the nearest shelf? Weed out the top that lurks closest to the bottom of the bag, fold it neatly and leave it lying on the bed, to be claimed by the cleaner?
Perhaps all three.
It is a tough mission this, and afterwards, I may be short on clothes and reading material, but at least I will be well accessorised.

Mission 030: Where Susan decides to become a neo-Italian mama

2008-05-21T04:34:00.004+12:00

I am in Siena, Italy at the moment, and due to a freak weather pattern (stormy and very rainy - typically more English than the Italian weather the Buckwell and I know and love), we are spending a lot of time eating, or browsing food stores while wiping dribble from our chins.
A quick sample from yesterday's menu:
- Pici(Big fat strands of a spaghetti-like pasta) with parmesan and pepper for the Buckwell
- Ravioli alla maremmani (not sure what maremmani is, sorry) with rustic chunky pesto oozing all over it for me
- Some zucchini trifolate to share ( which seems to be sauteed zucchini in olive oil)
And a half litre of wine plus a bottle of sparkling mineral water to wash it down
Then we moved on to wander the local supermarket, where we observed no less than 55 types of pasta on the shelves or in the fridge.
There were:
tortellini
ravioli
gnocchi
cannoli
pici (also seems to be known as bagoli)
tagliatelle
lasagne
spaghetti
fedelini
linguine
tortiglioni
cavatappi
penne rgate
fusilli
pipe rigate
rotelle
pennoni rigate
casarecce
farfalle
sopraffini
digitale rigati
dischi
gallanini
anelli
stellette
digitale piccoli rigate
avena
filini
gigli
amorosi
mini penne rigate
capellini
spahettini
vermecellini
bavettine
corallini
pintine
tempestine
sedani rigati
mezze penne rigate
gnochetti
orechiette
reginette
penne lisce
nastrini
pipette
dischi volanti
bucatini
mezze maniche rigate
trenette
spahettoni
lasagnette ricce
fettucine
taglerini
cavatelli

So. Are you impressed that I stood there and wrote it all down? I got a few funny looks, I can tell you. However, the outcome of all this is that I have decided to perfect my pasta-making skills. Luckily, the Buckwell and I own a pasta machine, which I have used (and he has eaten the results from). It may have been used twice. However, as soon as we re-settle after this trip, I am going to become the homemade pasta queen - a neo, or rather pseudo (because as far as I know I have no Italian ancestry), Italian mama in the kitchen. But first I shall need a few essential ingredients:
- a louder voice
- a bigger bosom
- stout shoes (this should be easy as I have big feet anyway)
- a poster of the madonna holding baby jesus
- some fake flowers to arrange around the poster
Once I have assembled all that, you're all invited round for Sunday lunch...

Mission 029: Where Susan tries to avoid everything piscine

2008-04-25T05:54:00.008+12:00

First, a little background. I am no longer in London, but travelling around Portugal, one week into a mammoth trip with the Buckwell. You an read more about the trip here .
So far, there are plenty of interesting sights and surprises, one of which is that there is a peacock 2 metres from my foot. Actually, she is a peahen, to be precise.
Over the last week, the Buckwell and I have been sampling a range of Portuguese dishes, many of which have been of the piscine variety. I have had sardines, prawns, golden bream, sole, tuna, monkfish and skate. And I am heartily fed up with all of it. Don't get me wrong - it's been tasty, and unlike the Buckwell, at least I like fish. But one meal finished me off. The biggest fish stew known to man as served up at a beachside restuarant to myself, the Buckwell, along with his brother and brother's girlfriend (latter two pictured here looking in disbelief at the pot'o fish. Eight people would have struggled to get through it. We four didn't stand a chance.And now my new mission is to avoid all fish for at least 3 days.

Mission 028: Where Susan takes some exercise

2008-03-29T03:03:00.003+13:00

In just over a week, the Buckwell and I are going snowboarding in Verbier. It will be my first time on a snowboard, and the first 'active' holiday I've had in a very long time. And I have not prepared my body for the shock.
So today's mission is to try and minimise the inevitable pain and suffering by reminding my hamstrings, calves, gluteus maximus and other muscles that they exist for a purpose other than walking to Clapham Junction train station. I am going to use the gym 2 floors down in our apartment block for the first time. (Sauna and swimming pool use don't count.) I'll be coaxing the best out of my body by putting some really nasty techno/dance type music on my ipod. Afterwards I'll wind down with 200 or so revolutions of the hula hoop (upstairs in the privacy of the lounge).
So just in case you know me and will be seeing me over the next few days, be prepared for me to whinge about being aching and stiff.

Mission 027: Where Susan finds a decent waterproof jacket by the weekend

2008-03-19T11:44:00.005+13:00

Is there a clothing item that you need and should really go shopping for? Do you, like me, know that whenever such a need arises, the chances of you finding said item are slim at best - unless of course, you have no money to buy it, when your chances of finding it increase exponentially. Wouldn't you rather just open a bottle of good wine while someone reads your mind, finds the item and delivers it to your door with a smile and a guarantee?
I have a need for a good quality (read 'quite expensive') Gore-tex jacket, in a common size and colour, suitable for walking in the Lake District, snowboarding in Verbier and many other outdoorsy type pursuits. I also have the money to buy it. And I need it for this Easter weekend. Oh dear, I feel despondent already. The chances are next to nothing of me finding it by tomorrow lunchtime. And that's if I even make it to the shops.

If you know somebody who can source such an item (in black, women's size 10-12 please), please send them over this evening to slip it under my pillow while I'm asleep. A bit like the tooth fairy did for me many years ago, only with money, not jackets.

Or damn it, I will have to embark upon my shopping mission tomorrow. Without any confidence whatsoever. Oh dear, I feel another failure coming on.

By the way, I haven't got my photos done yet, either.

Hopeless, I am.

Mission 026: Where Susan gets her picture taken

2008-02-22T23:29:00.003+13:00

I slept very heavily last night. So heavily in fact, that I didn't even stir when the Buckwell got up.
Instead, the alarm aurally bashed me awake at 7:10.

I was having a dream where the Buckwell and I were on a train to Iran. I was trying to speak Arabic to some Iranians on the train, and one of them kindly reminded me that they spoke Persian. Yet they were shaking my hand and saying 'Ahlan, Ahlan', which is 'Welcome' in Arabic. That's when they weren't speaking English to me – with a heavy Eastern European accent (hey, I don't know what Iranian accented English sounds like yet).

I don't know what it all means, but it has reminded me that I need to get a photo taken for my Iranian visa application for our intended visit in April, otherwise I'm not going to get it back in time. So that's my mission for today - file under boring but essential things to do.

Get to the back of the line

2008-02-13T07:08:00.000+13:00

... to congratulate me. I successfully managed to avoid queues until the end of the week, and EVEN AT THE AIRPORT. Freakily, there were no queues at check-in, or at the luggage scanning bit.
I salute me. Or rather, my luck.

Mission 026 - Where Susan takes her chances

2008-02-13T06:37:00.000+13:00

This morning I had a strange thing happen.

I went to register with a new doctor and get the obligatory health check. Nothing strange about that. The next bit is where it gets weird.

They couldn't go through with confirming my registration at the doctors because I was already on there. Or rather, there was somebody with my name living at my current address 4 years ago. Susan Wills, middle initial M, White Other, hazel eyes. But born 2 years after me, fatter, taller, a smoker and heavy drinker. (I probably shouldn't have looked at her records in the interests of patient confidentiality, but the nurse brought them up on the screen.)

This has spooked me just a little.

Given our birth years, I figured there's an even chance that the other Susan Wills would be on Facebook. So I looked. There are 11 Susan Willses on there. Only 2, including me, in London. Did the only other London Susan Wills live at the SAME address? If so, it disturbs me even more now that I have seen her face. Although I'm certainly not about to embark on a Dave Gormanesque experiment.

However, given the chances of this extremely bizarre event, I think it's only fair that my next mission is to buy a lottery ticket...

Mission 025 - Where Susan tries to save the world

2008-02-08T05:39:00.000+13:00

First off, I’d like to declare that I am a greenie. Have been for years. Hell, I even had my own tree from when I was six. I used to hug it and everything. I am also a militant recycler and, until recently, was a co-leader of the voluntary Green Team at my workplace. And I was using carbon-neutral transport to get to work long before it was fashionable.

Right. Now that I’ve established my credentials, there’s something I want to get off my chest. (It’s been festering away a good while.) Is it just me, or is all this green business (and I don’t use the ‘b’ word lightly) becoming a bit too much like a religion? Suddenly, everywhere I look, there are avid greenies milling about high streets and websites everywhere. In droves, they are buying jute bags, devouring organic broccoli and converting their cars to bio-diesel.

It’s as if they’ve been born again – and they want the world to know. Like all new converts to a religion they are overzealous; they want everyone to join them in the Church of Green; to save the world from itself.

Yet what they don’t realise is that the Church of Green has been taken over by the Church of Commerce. And membership to that is not about how green your behaviour is - it’s about who buys the most green stuff. Ironic, really, as the key principle of sustainable living is REDUCE. Then comes REUSE. Then comes RECYCLE.

Now I didn’t see CONSUME MORE STUFF in there. Did you?

It’s all very well to be devouring eco-friendly options, but only if they replace less eco-friendly ones. For example, I have no truck with people who drive 5km to their ‘local’ farmers market in their SUVs. Or people who buy designer jute bags to do their shopping in, then continue to put all their vegetables in single plastic bags to be weighed. Adopt a wider view, people.

Green is becoming the status quo – its commercialisation grows every day. It’s been scooped up into the brand lifecycle and is feverishly working its way to cash cowdom as I write. We should all know the end result of commercialisation. Commodity. Then ennui. Which will mean the death of green. Although Commerce will go on.

So to save Green, better lose the preachiness, especially if you’re not the perfect apple-hued tone (and few of us are, surprise, surprise). Stop adopting the first, new, ‘cool’ green thing that comes along. Make being green an integral part of your life, not a clip on fashion accessory. I hate to take a line from one of the bishops in the Church of Commerce here, but it works: Just Do It. Or most of it. But whatever you do, please shut up and do it quietly. You’re boring me to death.

Psssst (whispered): My latest mission is to take the stairs instead of the lift for the next week, thus conserving precious planetary energy. And firming my flubbery, blubbery thighs.

I smell success

2008-02-08T00:13:00.000+13:00

Yesterday, I thought that I may have reached a crisis in my mission to avoid queues.

I headed to one of the biggest queue-danger zones - the supermarket at lunchtime. There, I loaded up my basket and headed to the checkouts with trepidation. But when I got there (ominous jaws music...duuuum dum duuuuum dum) the queues were surprisingly small. Two people in each, at most.

So I took a calculated risk. I browsed the nearby nut display, while keeping a lookout for movement in the basket-only line, hoping that I'd spot a break in the queue.

And then it happened - a new checkout lane opened. I sprinted forward, narrowly missing a distracted, baguette-waving pensioner (I don't think the baguette was being waved at me) and practically threw my basket at the checkout fellow.

I am SUCH a sad piece of work.

But one more day of it and I will have completed my mission.

And another thing

2008-02-06T05:04:00.000+13:00

Oh dear.

Now I remember one of the reasons why I am going to miss England. The English sense of humour.

On my internet meanderings, I came across this blog written by one of the writers for The Observer newspaper (incidentally, one of the few newspapers I buy).

It made me smile at work. And for that I thank him.

Mission 024 - Where Susan says no to queues

2008-02-06T03:48:00.000+13:00

Well, once again it's a gloriously grey day here in Crawley, which has kept my mind well and truly focused on my work. No reason to gaze absent-mindedly across the carpark to the trees when I can't even see as far as the nearest car...
Once again I am reminded why it is time to leave England. I've never been anywhere where grey skies feel so oppressive. 7 years of it is enough.
In a couple of months, the Buckwell and I will depart England and go travelling. And for that, we'll need some rather impressive and possibly obscure visas (although I only have 10 spare pages in my current passport). I'm already mentally preparing for the embassy queues, another feature of English life that I'm not going to miss. Not everyone's dismayed by queues, mind you. I like how this blogger has embraced queues, turning them into a pastime.
However, I'm going to go to the other extreme. This week's mini-mission (it lasts until Friday afternoon, because then I am off to the airport, when I KNOW FOR A FACT it would be impossible) is to avoid all queues.

I foresee several challenging situations over the next few days.

Entering and exiting the train station
Getting on the train
Buying my lunch
Filling up my water bottle at the water cooler
Making tea
Buying drinks at the pub tonight
Buying food for dinner, washing detergent and toilet paper
Buying hair dye at the chemist
Telephoning the bank (yes, phone queues count too)

I will, of course, let you know how I get on.

Mission 023: Where Susan gets all independently-minded

2008-01-30T01:51:00.001+13:00

I think I must've been living in a hole in the ground over the past year.

I have just discovered the Wedge Card, a cool card that gives you discounts for local, independent shops around London. The Wedge Card costs a mere tenner (with £5 of that going to a worthy charity - local, of course). and it was launched in December 2006. The people behind the card say: "Wedge is the little man. The local independent shopkeeper and all the locals who love the fact that their High Street hasn't fallen prey to the large multinational large chain, turning it well into well, a faceless, desensitized "brand only" environment."

Even though little men don't really do it for me, personally (sorry, bad joke, couldn't help it - low on blood sugar), I'm really turned on by the Wedge Card right now. I've gone and signed up for one, and I wish more Londoners knew about it.

A quick flick through the discounts on offer turned up:
The Design Museum
Nina and Lola (hip online fashion store)
Crockatt and Powell (yay for my fave independent bookshop)

And there are lots more. So if you're a Londoner, please sign up for a Wedge Card now, here . You won't regret it, especially once you've made a couple of small purchases, because it will pay for itself. (You'll probably also feel quite smug and pleased with yourself for supporting local shops too.) It's just a pity that I won't be around in London much longer to use it.

So that defines my new mission: to shop more at independent shops this year. I already do try to shop locally, but sometimes I get lazy. Now I have a new excuse to avoid the Tescos and the Asdas and the Selfridges of this world. It's my new mission, dammit. Make it yours too.

Mission 022 - Money, happiness and con-men

2008-01-10T07:55:00.000+13:00

The Buckwell and I have just sold our flat. We made a reasonable sum of money on it. This got me thinking about whether money really can buy happiness. Certainly for me, the moment I saw the bank account balloon was a source of great excitement. But that excitement fizzled out about as quickly as a cheap Catherine Wheel.

The letter from the property lawyers turned up, giving the breakdown of the whole transaction. So in my practical, skeptical way I went through it, item by item. And one item I didn't like the look of. For some reason, we have been charged rent payable of £230.49. Quoi? We've had a lot of trouble with our solicitors; they've been generally hopeless. But I will refrain from mentioning the name of the firm thus far, until the Buckwell chases the discrepancy up tomorrow.

In the meantime, I have been stewing over it in my head, mentally scripting the complaint letter and scheming to garner as much negative publicity for them as I can. After all, nobody rips me off and gets away with it. Well, that is unless you are a papyrus seller in Cairo, a camel driver hawking rides around the Pyramids, a carpet seller in Aleppo, a spice seller in Marrakech, a jewellery merchant in Sousse, or a furniture transport company in Denmark. (But I'll get them back too, eventually.)

My, I do sound like a vengeful sort.

Money doesn't buy happiness, but losing it can mean unhappiness. Particularly when you lose it through property lawyers with no concept of customer service. Hmmm, perhaps service is the real issue here? After all, with the benefit of distance, I actually have rather fond memories of some of the other cons.
But I have decided that it's time to put a stop to it. My mission is to not fall for any more cons in 2008.

Have a happy new year.

Mission Update - Starting the year on a low note

2008-01-10T07:20:00.000+13:00

Well here I stand before you, just over a week into 2008, with hanging head and shamefaced expression. I have failed two missions.
I had been going strong, staunchly resisting the chips from the canteen downstairs at work, but yesterday something inside me broke. I ordered some and ate them. They were actually pretty good. But I didn't feel so well afterwards. So there, my first confession is out. Now for number two.
I got also Jerome's flu - my excessive garlic and chilli concoction came to naught. The morning we got up to depart for Japan, I was tired and listless. My nose was hot, my throat felt like a piece of sisal was hitching a ride in it, and my eyes were watery. Halfway to the airport, the sneezes were coming thick and fast, along with lots of mucus. "I feel hot," I said to the Buckwell. "Feel my forehead."
He did. "No fever," he replied.
So I popped a couple of cold and flu tablets and tried to ride it out.
The flu tablets must've worked a bit, because British Airways upgraded us to Club class on the way over to Tokyo. However, it was obvious that I was really sick; I declined the Champagne on boarding, and went for an orange juice instead. Then, despite the fully-flat bed, movies on demand, and food on proper china plates, things went rapidly downhill. It all reached a head about 30,000 feet up, somewhere north of Ulan Batur, when I woke up after a short sleep, with a piercing earache, the shivers and a large trail of mucus winding its way from my nose to my mouth. I winced, and said plaintively to the Buckwell, "I think I have a fever".
Dutifully, he reached across and felt my forehead. "Nope."
So I curled myself up in the foetal position (what a waste of a flat bed), and shivered for an hour.
"What about now?"
"Sorry. You still don't have a fever."
"Oh".
Eventually, we got to Tokyo, and I soldiered on for a couple of days until my cold/flu faded away. By about the fifth day, I was back to my normal self. But on our penultimate morning, I woke up with a sore throat and ballooning neck glands. By the evening, I was exhausted and in bed by 9pm. "Damn," I moaned. "I think I'm getting another cold." The Buckwell reached over and felt my forehead. "Oh no," he said. "Now you really do have a fever."

Mission 021 - Cough cough, sniff sniff

2007-12-20T06:51:00.000+13:00

Wow. A month's silence. Sorry for being so inexcusably slack. I've actually had more time than usual for blogging, given that the last 2 weeks have been spent on jury service. That means a little bit of sleeping in (love those 10:15am starts), a little bit more exercise (walking to court), cultural lunchtimes (Tate Modern), and plenty of opportunities to read books while waiting to be herded into the court for a cattle, sorry, jury call. The first week I managed three books, the second week was a little less literary owing to actually being in court for most of it.
I found it a welcome change from the tedium of my everyday life. But I feel dreadfully sorry for the people on the jury for the Diana inquest. There's only so much monotony I can take.
So this Christmas, the Buckwell and I have decided to go all out with a bit of culture shock. We're off to Japan.
However, there is a nasty threat looming over the trip. The Buckwell has been suffering a nasty bout of MAN FLU this week, which had him bedridden, feverish and coughing. So my mission is rather obvious - to avoid his flu at all costs. As I am a woman, it should not be too hard. However, just to be on the safe side, I am planning to liberally lace onight's dinner with garlic and chilli....

Mission 020 - To bye or not to bye

2007-11-20T09:38:00.000+13:00

First up, sorry for the really bad pun. It's somewhat indicative of my desperate state of mind as this week, as I wrestle with my latest mission - to resist the temptation to resign. It could be quite a good idea for you to adopt this mission too, to avoid you joining dole queues and getting far too familiar with daytime telly.
Here are a few reasons why you should resist the urge to resign:
- At your latest dinner party, someone tells you that you're an excellent cook and should open a cafe. Although this may sound like a valid reason, remind yourself that although your duck and couscous was undoubtedly extremely tasty, you can't guarantee that every patron at your cafe will be just as drunk and rambling.
- You have a mortgage/rent that needs to be paid regularly. And you are not talented at busking.
- Your husband likes to spend money on bike parts, and you like to spend money on shoes. And the money has to come from somewhere. Especially for the shoes. (I know it's a cliche, but that's the way it is.)
- The grass is not always greener on the other side. in fact, sometimes it's astroturf.
- The current job is building character. (I just don't know what kind.)

Hmm. I'm not doing a very good job of convincing myself. I'm going to watch some telly.

Mission 019 - A spot of mending

2007-11-05T23:33:00.000+13:00

Buttons. They were bound to come up sooner or later.

Last Monday or Tuesday I had a button come off a jacket. It's still off, and I have been wearing the jacket sans button, regardless. What a lazy slob.

Now, I think there's a fairly good chance that, like me, you've got something tucked away in a drawer that needs a spot of mending to make it wearable again. Maybe you're even wearing it. My jacket is just a hint of a vast mending pile that includes:

Pair of dress shorts with split seam
Dress with ironing mark (awaiting customisation and transformation into new dress)
Trousers that need hemming
Top with unravelled shoulder seam
Half-made cushion (just needs one side of the zip doing)
Trousers with missing button.

No wonder I have nothing to wear.

So my latest mission for me, and you, is this: Make a start on the mending. Even if you just sew on a button. It'll take you all of five minutes (and most of that will be spent finding the needles and thread) and you'll wonder why on earth you've been putting it off.

Pet update

2007-11-02T06:03:00.000+13:00

As of this evening, the pet mission is back on. Our first set of critters are going home to their owner, as she's now out of hospital. Someone from the cat charity is coming to pick them up tonight.

The funny thing is, that only this morning I had the fleeting thought that i would quite like to see the back of them. If only for the reason that last night one of them missed the litter tray and deposited a large poo and a puddle on the floor of the bathroom instead. Then they shredded the newspaper surrounding the tray to create a poo, piss and paper installation of impressive proportions. It was a really great way to start my morning.

So from tonight, we are once again sans pets. There might be more arriving Sunday. Hopefully they will be better acquainted with their litter box. I'll let you know.

Mission 018 - The only way is up.

2007-11-01T05:34:00.000+13:00

As soon as I wrote this title, I was reminded of that grating track by Yazz that sat atop the NZ singles chart for several weeks in 1988. Not a great start. But please hang about a couple more minutes. This post gets better.
My blog is rated by Technorati at 4,446,976= in popularity. (This is out of 110.4 million blogs, so is either quite good, or quite bad, depending on how you look at it.) But this is not good enough for me. So my new mission is to bump my rank up. I don't expect to reach the 100 top blogs, or even the top 100,000. The top 1,000,0000 will do, for now.
Then of course, there's the Google ranking. And although you can find me if you type in Susanonamission with no spaces, you won't find me on Google any other way. (Google Susan Wills and you'll get an American pro-life activist, a ceramic artist, a lawyer and a winery owner.) There are, unfortunately, many people with my name out there. All American, I think. So I've been doing lots of research about how I can improve the ranking of my blog. Problogger is an especially good source, although ironically, in a recent post, he says 'Forget about page rank and concentrate on good content'.
So first, please help me by going to Technorati, here , where you can create an account. Then search for my page Susanonamssion and choose it as one of your favourites. Thank you. Another thing you can do is link to my page if you have a blog and would like to recommend my blog to others. Either of these things would be great.
And here's what I've decided to do about the blog content.
Given that my blog is quite self-absorbed, I've decided to open my missions up to everyone. Now you can share in my achievements, surpass me, or fall behind as you choose. Of course, some missions will be more achievable for you then others. Mission 015, Chips, for example, will be quite easy for you, as you don't work near the cafe downstairs (unless you are one of my colleagues reading this). Feel free to take on this mission as your own. Just in case you need a reminder, here it is again: ' Increase the ranking of Susan's blog'.
Again on the content note, for more waffly posts that don't fit here so well, I have also started a new blog, Four Zebras in the Road. This one is more for me to waffle at will about all sorts of things that don't fit into my/our missions and is still being refined a bit, although I have high hopes for it. The main pic is one I took in Namibia in September. I think it's rather attractive. Do you?

Mission 017 - 50,000 words

2007-11-01T05:16:00.000+13:00

I've spent much of the day researching blogs. Partly for work (might be doing a work blog), partly to see what else is out there. One link led to another and eventually I ended up at NaNoWriMo, the site for National Novel Writing Month. I actually joined this last year (or was it the year before?), and didn't write a word. This year, I seem to have ended up there the very day before it all kicks off, which seems like quite a nice piece of serendipity. So I joined. Again. And my new mission flowered into being: to write 50,000 words before the end of November 2007.

I know NaNoWrMo isn't the way to instantly produce a work of prize-winning quality. But it's a way to produce A Work. Which is a start. It means writing around 1700 words a day, and no, I can't cobble together the 30,000 I've already written on Untitled Novel 1. They have to be all fresh – quite a steep challenge if you're in full-time work. But not necessarily if you work as an in-house copywriter and seem to be hitting a quiet patch...
We'll see.

Mission success! We have pets!

2007-10-27T02:01:00.000+13:00

May I introduce Bobby and Suzie, our new foster cats. Finally, after several long months, we had a cat charity drop off these two beasties for our care and attention. The volunteer told the Buckwell and I that Bobby was the thinner one (on the right in this picture), and Suzie was the fat one (on the left). However Suzie is so massive and manly that we are sure she is actually Bobby, while Bobby is quite petite and jittery - although smoochy when you win him/her over – so we think he's actually Suzie. Neither of them answer to either name, of course, which doesn't help. Anyway, we have taken to calling them Blobby (the fat one, obviously), and Schmoozie (other one). Perhaps we are confusing the poor creatures. Maybe we should just call them non-gender specific names like Sam and Robin/Robyn, which don’t bear any phonetic resemblance to their real names.

Blobby and Schmoozie spend most of their time sitting underneath the sofa, or trying to get into the bedroom to get underneath the bed, although in the last two days they've discovered the windowsills. (The ones offering a good view of the birds in the tree outside.) Unfortunately we are having trouble getting them to eat, although they will deign to lick tuna off a spoon or eat luxury kitten treats from the palm of your hand. Um, it's all getting a bit tedious.

And I am also unbearably allergic to them.

They have quite bad cat dandruff/dander, so I had to go and buy some anti-allergy pet wipes, which you wipe over the cat as if patting it. I think the cat thinks someone's giving it a big lick - it certainly ends up quite damp. Meanwhile all the dander goes onto the wipe, supposedly. The cat's skin allegedly benefits too, thanks to the aloe vera in the wipe (if it's good enough for humans' toilet paper, it's good enough for cats). And voila, less sneezing. I'm not sure if it's working, though. Maybe yesterday I sneezed 347 times, compared to 351 the day before. As time goes by, I'm sure I will develop a resistance to them, though.

So yes, this fostering lark ain't the constant sunshine and cuddles thing I had in mind. Although I know of course it takes time. I think it’s just confirmed the fact that I am mostly a dog person (I’m not allergic to them, either - woo-hoo). Or a cat person, as long as the cat keeps its fur mostly to itself.

Mission 016 - no more chips

2007-10-19T01:22:00.000+13:00

Why do I do it to myself?
I feel unwell. I have been eating chips from the office cafe downstairs, and they are just about the direst they have ever been.
Most of them are pale, limp and sickly, instead of proudly bearing a crisp outer coating. They are shiny with oil and clinging to each other in a sort of bad chip porn way. Two are green. Several tasted the way a rubbish bin smells after liquid in the bag has escaped and pooled in the bottom, festering for a few days. (I spat those ones out, and they are now huddled in a semi-mash on the other side of the container.) I should have taken them all back.
I've occasionally had good chips from the cafe downstairs. Generally though, the following conditions need to be present:
- It should be a Monday, when the oil is (probably) fresh
- I witness the chips being taken from the fryer to the serving area
- The server shakes the excess oil from the chips before transferral
- The server leaves them in the oil long enough for them to attain a colour similar to that of a South London luvvie who's been in Magaluf for 2 weeks
I like food. I love good food. I'm not sure why I keep subjecting myself to this. Well, apart from the £1 cost. After all, everything else is so unappetising there that it seems to make more sense to spend £1 on chips than £2.50 on a panini (never toasted enough) with too much pesto (from a jar, too acidic), and hardly any cheese (rubbery fake mozzarella, applied only to the outer edges of the panini, so it all leaks out when the panini is toasted). I've also tried the soup (once) and it tastes worse than an ancient cup-a-soup, but with less salt, more overcooked broccoli flavour.
Of course, I could do it much better myself, but I'm not about to go and start up a cafe.
Instead, my mission is simply to NEVER have any more chips from the office cafe downstairs again*.

When: From now to eternity

Terms and Conditions
*Eating someone else's chips allowed

Mission 015 - Have your cake

2007-09-28T23:46:00.000+12:00

Since I posted my essay, I've been feeling a bit at a loose end and vaguely irritable.
I'm not sure what I should be concentrating on.
So I am going to bake a cake. Not any old cake, mind. A Dobos Torte, named after Austrian pastry chef Josef Dobos, who created it. The Buckwell has been going on about Dobos Tortes since I met him, and earlier this year I tasted one at a Hungarian restaurant. Indeed, it was mightily tasty. I went home and looked up a recipe, only to reel back in horror when I read that every slice contained around 1250 calories, more than half the daily recommended amount for a chick/sheila/bird/laydee.
According to most recipes, it should take me around 1 hour and 30 minutes to bake and ice, although I think it will take more like 2, as there are 9 eggs to beat, and I only have a hand whisk. Yes, this is truly going to be challenging.
The other criteria is that I will need to bake it for guests, because there's no way that the Buckwell and I are going to eat an entire cake in 3 days (which is how long it will keep for because of the chocolate buttercream). Especially 4 slices at 1250 cals each.
It will not be a life-changing mission, but it will be a delicious one.

Mission update - Gone and forgotten

2007-09-27T23:27:00.000+12:00

I am exhausted and relieved. My final essay for my last paper of my OU degree is done. It is not a very good one, but it should do the job. In a short while I am off to the Crawley post office to queue for a long while, where it will be posted off in a strangely anti-climatic way. Then I will go to Greggs, that bastion of cheap, basic and unhealthy lunches, where I will eat a greasy, peppery vegetable pasty (vegies consisting of potato and peas, for those interested). I've just been to the Greggs site as a matter of fact, my interest piqued by writing about it. On their (poorly written and cumbersome) site, they state: 'We would like to thank you for visiting and if you are a customer, for your tremendous loyalty and support.' This baffles me. It sounds like something terribly bad has happened and they are almost surprised that people are continuing to buy from them. Have I missed something? Anyway, this web banner would seem to indicate that they do regard their customers as passionate people (but not passionate about good food, just cheap food), so maybe their customers' loyalty and support is indeed 'tremendous'. Passionate about pasties? Not theirs, that's for sure. Although 'feed your apathy' doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it?

On another completed unrelated note, I have been slightly disappointed to discover that my workplace is about to ban internet sites not feasibly related to work. I know this means Facebook, so therefore there go my Scrabulous games (which increase my wordpower and creativity, thus my ability to write good copy). Boo. I also suspect that access to blogspot will be restricted, so bye bye lunchtime updates and the positive feeling engendered by embarking on a mission. Boo.
Apparently there has been 'widespread abuse of the internet lately', hence the militant crackdown. But for people like me, who really don't have enough to do every day anyway, and rely on frivolous sites to keep me sane and thus productive, I fear the decision may be the beginning of my descent into madness.
I am already halfway there anyway. I didn't remember Mission 014 that I forgot, so I have failed that.
Well I must go now. The post office queue calls.

Mission 014 - Memory Blues

2007-09-22T01:20:00.000+12:00

I am suffering memory loss. For the life of me I can't remember what mission I was going to write here.
Now I'm trying not to become annoyed at myself for forgetting (in line with my previous mission).
Actually, I suspect this general lack-of-memory is linked to the important essay that I'm trying to produce by next Tuesday. Earlier this year I noticed that I had the same problem about the same time as an exam. It appears that my brain reaches capacity in times of intellectual stress and pushes out all perceived non-essential information (like the name of Keira Knightley, which escaped me earlier today and then came back to me an hour after I was looking for it) to make way for the necessary information (such as how Kant's Critique of Judgement influences literary prize judging). Do not, I repeat (for my own benefit) do not invite me to join your pub quiz team at the moment.
After next Tuesday I expect things will improve, and once again I will remember word for word everything the Buckwell has ever said and done in the past and use it against him in future arguments.
In the meantime, I am going to buy myself some fish oil, or Omega 3 or whatever it's called.
That's not my mission, by the way. My mission is to remember the mission I was going to write here to begin with.

Mission update - legs and stuff

2007-09-21T05:07:00.000+12:00

I have failed in my mission to tan my legs. I even went to Africa, and only came back with a slight golden tinge, which lasted all of five days. Even fake tan lasts longer than that! So now I've bought several pairs of opaque black stockings. Maybe it's time to become a goth?
I have also failed in my mission to get to work on time every day for a week. I managed one day. Monday. That was it. My heart wasn't in that one really from the start, so I guess I've learned a good lesson. If you don't REALLY want to achieve your goal, choose another goal. Otherwise it's not going to happen.
I don't really want to be a morning person, so I am perpetuating the 'I am a night person' image, which seems so much more exciting. I like being nocturnal. That is, until I have a job that pays more and offers more exciting work. Then I have a feeling that I might suddenly find 9am doesn't seem so bad...

Mission 013 - Live life

2007-09-21T04:31:00.000+12:00

Live life. Pffffff! I mean, please - exactly what else are you supposed to do with it?
Perhaps this post should actually be entitled 'Enjoy more of life instead of being a grumpy and neurotic person all the time.' But that's a bit long. So I thought I would use one of the inane non-phrases that I so detest to remind me that it's not worth getting worked up about them. Apart from the fact that now I am really bothered by the fact that I've used said crock-of-sh*t phrase. Oh dearie me, this mission is going to be a toughie.
To start with, it's not exactly measurable, like goals are supposed to be. It also depends on many variables:
- my financial state
- the time to my next holiday
- whether I have been doing creative writing or tick-the-box writing
- whether I've eaten
- whether I've slept enough
- whether I have tension in my shoulders
- whether the sun is shining
- whether I have scoffed a packet of M&S white-chocolate-coated strawberries
- whether the bottle of wine is empty or full

And many other non-reasons as well.
Ok. All right. All right! Time to stop being annoyed (and by derivation, annoying). My new mission is to 'Accentuate the Positive', as vocalised so cheerily by Johnny Mercer in the song featured in LA Confidential, and a stylish typography-heavy self-promotion ad by Saatchi and Saatchi NZ that aired in the early 90s. So my first step is to listen to that song every morning on the way to work.
After that, I'm not sure. Perhaps I should try laughing whenever I find myself getting annoyed. So when someone brings me copy changes on something I've written, instead of huffing and frowning and resisting the temptation to let loose with a string of expletives worthy of a severe Tourettes attack, perhaps I should just lean my head back and laugh. Mwahahahahahahahaha!
I wonder how long it would take before I get firmly and politely escorted off the premises?
I think I'd better laugh internally instead, then take 3 deep breaths, smile, and think of cute little kittens.
That's about the best I can come up with now. If you have any suggestions that don't require medication I'd be pleased to hear them. Ok. So here I go, living life!

Mission 012 - Clocking on

2007-09-07T05:43:00.000+12:00

I think we all know that I'm supposed to be writing an essay instead of doing a new post. Well, we do now.
My essay is already late, and here I am procrastinating. I am stupendously talented at procrastination, a talent which I believe is common to many famous writers. Or do I just want to believe that my procrastination makes my success as a writer imminent? Somehow I don't think it works like that.
Anyway, it means that I am late for many things, because I put things off until they absolutely must be done. That goes for almost everything. It even included my own wedding, where I booked the registrar about 3 weeks beforehand, so I had to take the only one available. At the wedding, said registrar sank her glass of Champagne in a flash, then nicked someone else's for a chaser. She was also seen swigging from a hip flask before the ceremony.
What can I say - if I'd chosen earlier I may have gotten someone sober, but I'm sure they would not have provided those cherished comedy moments.
However, not all my procrastination leads to comedy. My morning 'I can't bear to drag myself away from my pillow, I think I'll just give it another 5 minutes,' leads me to be, on average, half an hour late to work every day. (This has been the case for most of my working life.) Of course, I stay there late, and I'm not very productive in the morning anyway (poor excuse, I know), but wouldn't it be nice if I turned up when everyone else does for a change?
So from tomorrow, my new mission is: to be on time for work for at least a week. Oh dear; my heart sank when I wrote those words. It means leaving the house at 7:40am. It really is not my cup of tea, but if I can do that, it's a step towards becoming less of a procrastinator. And then I'll be more on track to finish writing my book.
But first I need to write an essay.

Mission update

2007-08-22T02:10:00.000+12:00

Officially, at least, I've failed quite a few of my missions so far. But only because of the deadlines.

I'm keeping an open mind about the deadline bit, and so should you, because I work to deadline every day at work. And although that's not an excuse in itself, those of you who also work to deadlines probably know that you can't always run to deadline with everything. Or you have burn-out. Breakdowns. And then if you're in America, you get your gun and head to the nearest college. (Sorry America.) If you're in London, you drink till you fall over, get thrown out of the house by your partner, then lie in the courtyard of your apartment block, sobbing loudly in the rain until about 3am, like one of our neighbours did the other night. And it's precisely because we are in London and are confronted every day by news of knifings, that we didn't go down and comfort him, because he's quite a scary character – especially when he's sobbing. Instead, the Buckwell and I dug out some earplugs and went back to sleep. We would have thrown down a camping tarpaulin for him to make a makeshift bivouac, but because we are in London no one knows how to make bivouacs, so we didn't see the point. You need to grow up in New Zealand, with 1 1/2 acres of native bush - then you get really good at making bivouacs out of native ferns and sticks and things. Not much of that in London.

Anyway, so I haven't made most of the deadlines. But I'm being flexible about that. I have not managed to do 200 hula hoop revolutions, for example. But I've got to 137, so if I just keep it up, I'll get there. Trouble is, the novelty has already worn off...

As for the pet mission, that's coming along nicely. We have been contacted by the Celia Hammond cat rescue centre, who want to give us a mum with kittens to foster. However, we're selling the flat and would rather have an offer under our belts before sticking an adorable mum with kittens, plus undoubtedly stinky litter tray in the spare room.

The yoga mission is not quite dead in the water, but it's sinking fast.

The tango mission is still in there with a fighting chance, although Signor Cossu has introduced the idea of Lindy Hop, which sounds much more fun, although far less sexy.

So bear with me, I'll get there. Eventually.

Mini-mission 011: Hoop-la

2007-08-12T23:52:00.000+12:00

It's a rainy Sunday in London, so today's itinerary of lying in the park reading and trying to tan my legs has been washed out. The Buckwell wants to go to an exhibition at the RCA, but I can't be bothered to walk into central London. However I still feel like doing something active. Luckily I bought a hula hoop on Friday. It was £1.
I defy anyone to be in a bad mood while carrying a peppermint-striped hula hoop home from work. Likewise, to be grumpy while hula-hooping, or especially watching someone hula-hoop after a few glasses of wine. The Buckwell has practically been in hysterics over the past 2 days as he watches me try to regain my hula hoop skills of circa 1985.
I have now set myself a mini-mission - to reach 200 revolutions in one hooping session, by the end of the week. I'm averaging about 20 at the moment, so it could be an entertaining week for those neighbours who can see across into our lounge window. (No way am I taking this thing outside.)
Where mission was conceived: Tapley House, in the lounge
Likelihood of success: Do-able, although I may sustain an abdominal strain
Mission deadline: 15 August

Mission 010: Legs akimbo

2007-08-11T03:43:00.000+12:00

If you're a skin health professional or my mother, you should stop reading this now. Especially if you are my mother.
OK, Mum, I know you're still reading, but don't worry, what I'm about to divulge is not rude or anything. It's just not healthy. I know this, and so you don't need to tell me. So please, not a word. Not even a tiny, teeny little email. I know.
Living in England has encouraged me to adopt some terribly unhealthy practices when it comes to the sun. Last weekend I lay out in the sun at a festival, between 11 and 1 WITHOUT SUNBLOCK. And I got burnt. Normally it's rare for me to get very burnt, unless I'm somewhere like Greece, Italy, Oman, Barbados, Australia or New Zealand. In all these places I've been sunburnt at some time, usually because my sunscreen has been sweated off/swum off/ wiped off. But in England I don't usually apply sunscreen, because... well, because I'm in England, of course, stoopid!
Anyway, stoopid me got completely toasted on the back of my neck and my shoulders. They are now itchy and peeling. Nice. My arms went brown and so did my feet. They are not peeling and they look good, even if my skin is 10 years older blah blah de blah. But the parts of my legs that were exposed to the sun – that is to say, the bits from my knees to my ankles – they didn't do anything at all. They gained no colour, not even a subtle drop of vanilla essence.
When I was small I remember looking at my mother's legs with disbelief. 'Mum, your legs are sooo white! With stubble! Yuck! MY legs are NEVER going to be that white!' Then I would run off to look at my horse books and practise learning to ride – in my head.
I don't recall my mother ever saying something back. Perhaps she said, 'We'll wait and see, shall we?' And now she has been waiting for this moment for oh, around 25 years. The moment when I will finally admit, 'My legs are white - no, practically blue – and I can't make them go brown!'
It's been several years now since I put sunscreen on my legs. (Apart from in Barbados after they unexpectedly got burnt.) Normally, their bluish-white sheen reflects as much sun as a 50+ sunscreen, and it's effective all day long. Sometimes, I'll put on fake tan to fool my legs into thinking that they are eminently tannable, but it appears that even with fake tan,they are not. My legs shed the fake tan within a day and my legs remain stoically pure in their antarctic glory.
I can no longer deny the fact that I have my mother's skin on my legs. Combined with my father's solid rugby-player calves, this is sobering on even a good day. So considering that I have a bit of a makeover theme going on with my latest missions, I'm going to keep running with it, if you'll excuse the leggy pun. My latest mission is to tan my legs - a real tan that will remain for at least 2 weeks. See, I told you it wasn't healthy. But nor are white legs very sexy, especially when they are as sturdy and heavily muscled as mine. I want sexy, tanned legs. Or as close to them as I can get. I know I can count on the Buckwell to back me up on this one.
Photo coming soon.

Where mission was conceived: In the shower with razor in hand
Idea-fuelling beverage: Water from the shower head
Likelihood of success: The chances are slim, but the reward would be sweet
Mission deadline: 15 September

Mission 009 - Line up, line up

2007-08-10T02:01:00.001+12:00

I'm fighting a losing battle. It's not one I ever expected to win; it's just that I didn't think I'd be overcome quite so quickly.
I've been plucking out my grey hairs for a few years now, ever since I saw the first three standing up straight in my crown one morning, like prairie dog sentries scouting for new territory. Of course, I whipped them out at the time, but it was too late. They'd passed the word on to my other follicles, and since then I've been discovering them at increasing intervals. Just now I found a small battalion hiding out behind my right ear. Some of them were quite long, so I can only assume that they have settled in. And undoubtedly, they have reinforcements. It is probably my greyest hour. Yet even though they are fighting me with great strength and fierceness, I won't give up. I will fight them with Boots or Clairol Simply Natural Dark Ebony, I will fight them with the tweezers, I will fight them in the bathroom mirror and the bedroom, I will never surrender. Well not for a while anyway, until there is over 10% coverage, then I may consider it.
But before you get the wrong idea - this fight is not my new mission. There's a side effect that I've noticed, and it's getting worse. When I see a grey hair and attempt to catch it with the tweezers, my eyes roll upwards and my forehead furrows slightly in concentration. Slowly but surely, my forehead is getting more and more lined, in the exact same pattern as my grey-hair-catching expression. I already have lines between my brows from sneezing. That I have to live with. But grey-hair-catching lines are downright embarrassing. So now I have a conundrum. Grey hair, or grey-hair-catching lines? Well, obviously 'neither' is the correct answer here, but more hair dye is not the solution.
So my new mission is to embark upon a course of forehead treatment to ease my lines.
Now, I've ruled out Botox straight away. Because I'm allergic to so much stuff that if I was to Botox my lines, I'm sure I'd end up with a swollen lump the size of a guinea pig on my forehead. Not the subtle look that I'm after. So I've narrowed it down to a natural filler or acupuncture. I'll tell you how it goes. And in the meantime, I'm going to keep pulling out my grey hairs when I see them and dying them as well, because I'm not going to let them win that easily.

Where mission was conceived: In front of the bedroom mirror
Idea-fuelling beverage: White tea
Likelihood of success: 80% likely, 20% chance I'll baulk at the cost
Mission deadline: 30 September

Mission 008: Woolly valley

2007-08-09T03:05:00.000+12:00

So here we are again. Hi. Um...I know that i should really be giving you a mission update about my unfinished missions, but actually, there's not a lot to report (and I'm a bit embarrassed about that), so let's leave it there for now, shall we? I'll update you later. Promise.
Anyway, you didn't really want to know about old missions, did you? Here's my new one:
I am going to get a haircut.
Wow. Stunned you with that one, didn't I? I know it sounds pretty risky compared to the others, but bear with me. I haven't had a haircut since December. In New Zealand. That's 8 months of ever-increasing, woolly mammoth-like tresses that always need to be tied back because they are no longer a style. I'm not quite sure how I managed to let them get to that state. Actually, I do. It's called 'DIY on the flat every weekend and working 1 1/2 hours out of London so I get home too late for late night appointments'. It's a very effective way to let yourself go without even realising it.
Now I need to go in for some follicle maintenance. Perhaps a bit of a mainicure and a pedicure too. I did my eyebrows in the bath last night, so at least I can see again. Other than that, I'm beginning to look far too much like a vegan academic. Wiry style-less hair, tick. Chewed fingernails, tick. Comfy cardie, tick. Comfy shoes, tick. Grey hair allowed the free run of my head. No, not quite. There's still time for me. Just.
The only problem I can now forsee is that I don't know what hairdresser to go to. I used to go to a great guy in Hackney who had the guts to tell me when I couldn't take a style. I like a hairdresser who's prepared to tell you how it is. 'Here's a photograph of Cate Blanchett (in elegant Prada and Costume National ballet pumps). Can you please do my hair like that?'
' No, your hair won't do that – and you won't find that your sturdy NZ rugby-player's calves will ever look like that, either, luv. Let's aim for this picture of Kathy Bates instead, shall we?'
But I can't go back to that hairdresser because I haven't been for ages, and he'll wonder where I've been in the meantime - why I deserted him for a bland chain salon with shiny posters and pimply assistants with hoop earrings sweeping up the clippings. Even though I didn't - and nor do I want to – which is even more embarrassing, because now my hair's so bad I couldn't possibly go to a hairdresser I know.
So anyway, I think you'll allow me the liberty of not updating you on my other missions. Because as you can tell, this one's terribly important indeed.
Where mission was conceived: Work again
Idea-fuelling beverage: Dr Stuart's 'Wild Nettle tea' (As it says on the packet, 'Time for a spring clean.')
Likelihood of success: 100% certain
Mission deadline: 24 August

Mission 007 -failure

2007-07-25T22:58:00.000+12:00

Oh hell. I have absolutely no self-control. I have failed Mission 007 'to stop eating sweets' miserably. It was the M&S extra-chocolately caramels that did it, combined with a dull day at work. If that's all it takes...
However, on a lighter note, the new toilet system should be being installed today, which will mean that it's out of the study (where it has been lingering in bits) and hanging on the wall looking, um...pristine, hopefully. Wow. So instead of using a 70 year-old loo to pass my waste, I will be soiling a brand new set of porcelain. Wonder who will get to use it first, the Buckwell or me?
See, I told you earlier that I have an exciting life.

Mission 007: Sweet and sour

2007-07-21T02:46:00.000+12:00

Well, today I don't really have much to say about anything. My bi-polar moods seem to be getting the better of me. Earlier I was practically ecstatic about the fact that I had posted a Mr Hudson and the Library video on Facebook, and I even took the liberty of stealing Lady Barron's new German word 'fabelhaft,' to indicate how I was feeling.
Now I'm staring out at the clouds steaming ominously across the Crawley sky up towards London (just in time to dump their cargo on the punters knocking off early on a Friday), and I can feel the corners of my mouth creeping downwards. It reminds me of those old women you see on New York buses heading downtown from the Upper West Side, with their perfectly coiffured hair (untouchable), navy Hush Puppies and red lipstick that looks freshly applied, but which is already sliding into the set creases of their permanently disaproving lips. Down, down, down. Their husbands are dead, they have cats called Alfie and Mittens, they huff if a teenager brushes against their arm and their handbags are never without a fresh tissue. Yes, I can feel it happening. I'm becoming one of them, and it's starting with my lips.
I think it's time for chocolate. Mmm. Yes, I thought you'd agree. More Rolos? I had some earlier, just after lunch, which helps explain my super high. And this low too.
So no. Actually, stop right there. Don't you go leading me astray with just one of your more-ish-looking Champagne truffle chocolates that you brought back from Bruges. Because this mission, you see, is all about no sweets. And not only no chocolate, but none of those M&S white-chocolate coated strawberries (which incidentally, I think they've discontinued), no Rolos, no Polos and no chocolate-coated caramels (one of which whipped out one of the Buckwell's fillings out the other evening, cheeky devil). I am going to stop eating sweets and see if it helps my moods.
No confectionary at all for... um, till the end of the month! Lucky it's a weekend, so at least I can have alcohol. Whew.
Where mission was conceived: Aaaaaaastral Towerrrrrrs
Type of location: Workplace
Idea-fuelling beverage: Not a drop of anything
Likelihood of success: Yeah, maybe, perhaps
Mission deadline: now till Tues 31 July

Mission 006: Adding some spice

2007-07-20T01:20:00.000+12:00

My life is pretty exciting. Today I am working from home because I had to wait for a new toilet system to be delivered. (This is my lunch break, FYI current and future employers.) Maybe it was because of my inspiring life that I thought of this mission - I'm not sure. But it came to me in a white-hot flash in between re-logging in to my work email (it logs me out every hour, annoyingly), and waiting for the inbox screen to load (2MB broadband, my derriere).
I am going to learn to tango.
I'm not quite sure what tango has to do with my work email, or the delivery of a toilet (wall hung pan, disappointingly cheap-looking chrome double flush button, bought on ebay), but it could be related to the vaguely Latino music we had playing yesterday at work. Actually, to be completely honest, this mission has been gestating for a good while now, ever since I read an article about themed breaks (learn spanish in Spain, tango in Argentina, whale-harpooning in Iceland) in a weekend paper's Travel section. The Latino music was probably just a slow-acting catalyst.
Of course, being a latent freeloader, I have found a free introductory class. It's in north London, so it will only cost £4 to get there and back, with no £10 class fee. A whopping saving of £6! Of course, then each subsequent class will cost £14 inc transport, so it is going to work out slightly more expensive in the long run. But no matter. I will be strutting my tango stuff across the floor. I will have added a dash of exhilarating latino spice to my life. And if the Buckwell decides to join me, we will be able to gaze into each others eyes on the dancefloor like they do in Dancing with the Stars. As long as he doesn't drop me.
We could look like this:

Where mission was conceived: Tapley House
Type of location: Home (office)
Idea-fuelling beverage: White tea
Likelihood of success: Definitely doable
Mission deadline: end of Sept 2007.

Miission 005: Woof, meow, squeak

2007-07-18T00:48:00.000+12:00

My new mission is to acquire a pet. This is actually a joint mission with the Buckwell, who is suffering acute pet deprivation.
The main problem with this mission is that we're not really in a pet friendly situation, so we need a temporary pet. We have therefore identified our market as 'London pet rescue services' (as foster carers).
I've taken the liberty of doing a SWOT analysis for this mission - below.
See here if you're unfamiliar with entry level management tools:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swot_analysis

Strengths:
Ability to take a dog to work (the Buckwell)
Experience with a range of pets
Secure environment for a pet
No small children to pull tails or ears

Weaknesses:
Bad allergy to cats (me)
A small apartment with no outside space
Inability to take a dog to work (me)
Tendency to travel often and no one to feed the pet when we are away
Expensive furniture that could be scratched and ruined
No transport to collect pet or pet food

Opportunities:
Foster a small/invalid dog for Battersea Dogs Home
Foster a mother cat and kittens for a cat rescue centre
Foster a shy or unwell cat for another cat rescue charity

Threats:
Estate agents and prospective buyers coming to view our flat may not appreciate the presence of a litterbox
Reliance on charity to provide pet
No choice of pet could mean we end up with a dud
London weather can make walking a dog unpleasant

Where mission was conceived: 2nd floor, Astral Towers
Type of location: Workplace
Idea-fuelling beverage: Licorice tea (again)
Likelihood of success: 50/50 is probably slightly optimistic in London
Mission deadline: Sunday 25 Feb 2008.

Mission update

2007-07-18T00:30:00.000+12:00

I can now report that I had satisfying success in mission 004. I was able to use 'moustachioed' twice alone on Friday night, chalked two more usages up on Saturday, followed by one on Sunday (granted, that one did refer to myself - but don't worry, it's been dealt with).
This leaves me with 2 current missions:
Mission 001 (research completed, still to complete action stage)
Mission 002 (umm, this one's not doing so well yet, actually)

Mission 003 is now redundant, owing to the death (by accidental drought) of the malodorous plants.

Mini-Mission 004

2007-07-07T01:16:00.000+12:00

Moustachioed. Such a deeply satisfying word. I used it almost by accident earlier today, which has led me to my new mission - to use the word 'moustachioed' in normal conversation at least 5 times over the weekend.
Say it slowly with me now. Mou-stach-i-ooooed. What a lovely stretchy exercise for the mouth.
Given that I don't know anyone with a moustache, this could be a potentially difficult mission, but if times get tough, there is an Indian restuarant round the corner with a plentiful supply of moustaches on staff. I'm going to watch the Prologue for the Tour de France on Saturday, too, so there may be some gents - or ladies for that matter - with lip dusters in the crowds. So I think I should have enough material to work with.

Where mission was conceived: 2nd floor, Astral Towers
Type of location: Workplace
Likelihood of success: I give it 80/20
Mission deadline: Sunday 8 July.

Mission 003

2007-07-05T04:34:00.000+12:00

My nose has been offended.
At lunchtime today I marched (okay, was driven by Lady C) off to Homebase to get some plants for the soon to be balcony planting, intended as a townie nod to the rambling wildflower gardens currently in vogue. I picked up two each of gypsophilia and aster daisies, thinking that they'd add a splash of pretty English countryside to the balcony of our hulking 1930s building.
I got them back to the office and sat them by my desk. All was well in the garden of Astral Towers. But before too long I got a whiff of feet. Not mine. Not Mr Samuels. And not Lady C's, although she was the first suspect as her shoes were ones with lots of little holes in them. A mild inkling rumbled in my brain, and I bent down and took a sniff of the plants.
The asters smelt of ripe toes. The gypsophilia smelt like rank Stilton. Together, they were Death.
There is an estate agent coming tomorrow to value the flat before it goes on the market...and his first impression is going to be a ratty English countryside balcony that smells of long dead feet.
I must get some new plants for the balcony. And next time I must smell them before I buy them.

Where mission was conceived: 2nd floor, Astral Towers
Type of location: Workplace
Idea-fuelling beverage: Pure life-giving, odourless water
Estimated increase in quality of life I expect from the completed mission: Significant
Likelihood of success: It will happen or I will have to cut my nose off
Mission deadline: Sunday 8 July.

Mission 002

2007-07-03T03:57:00.000+12:00

New week. New mission. To eliminate, ok, maybe not eliminate...reduce the mind-bogglingly annoying and tedious neck and back tension that dogs my desk-bound life.
So what to do about it? Unfortunately I fear that on this occasion my genetics could have the last word, and my computer will have the penultimate one. My dear mother has been telling me about her neck and shoulder tension for about the last 25 years, to my knowledge. And there's a good chance she was also telling me about it for the previous 8, only I wasn't listening. As for the computer, it has me for least 9 hours a day, and that's not likely to change. Er, ...actually, I think I need to stop writing now as the only thing I'm doing so far is to talk myself out of this mission. So back to the action.
I am going to start yoga. Not the sticky, sweating, dirty-sounding Bikram yoga of Bikram Choudury fame. And probably not the chanting, calming, soothing Hatha yoga so beloved by breathy types with limpid eyes(I guess). I like the bendy, onomatopoetic, alluringly-exotic sound of Ashtanga yoga, and I've found a Thursday night class that offers it near London Bridge. It's all far too convenient and easy. So what's my excuse? I need a yoga buddy. So I'll need to convince the Buckwell to come along too. (Ah yes, you've found the mission fine print - my get-out clause.)

Where mission was conceived: 2nd floor, Astral Towers
Type of location: Workplace
Idea-fuelling beverage: Organic Licorice tea (really truly)
Estimated increase in quality of life I expect from the completed mission: Exponential
Likelihood of success: Mission possible but could be scuppered by my genetics
Mission deadline: Thursday 27 July.

Mission 001

2007-06-29T22:40:00.000+12:00

You know those days when you're not quite sure what you feel like eating, but you'd like it to be somewhat healthy with a hint of MSG? Or is that just me?
Anyway, a couple of days ago I was swilling back a few glasses of an average Sauvignon Blanc when the fabulous Lady Barron gave me a bright idea. "Honey", she said, "buy some frozen dim sum and a steamer and away you go". She's done it before in Sydney with great success (although it's called yum cha there), and so now I aim to follow in her culinary footsteps. Of course, it would be much more satisfying to make the dim sum from scratch (and also very 'me' - that's my latent attention seeker/purist/masochist in action). But on those lazy Sundays when it's raining in London, and the Buckwell and I can't be bothered to drag ourselves off to Soho to wait for a table, frozen dim sum would come in very handy indeed.
Now if only this mission could be completed by this Sunday...but I think, realistically, I need to aim for next.

Where mission was conceived: Dreambags Jaguarshoes, Shoreditch, London
Type of location: Bar
Idea-fuelling beverage: Chilean Sauvignon Blanc
Estimated increase in quality of life I expect from the completed mission: Moderate initially, then low as the MSG takes effect
Likelihood of success: Mission probable
Mission deadline: Sunday 08 July.