Can we say, "Boo!"?

October 31... All Hallow's Eve. A night for fun and friviolity. Kiddies trick-or-treating, costume parties verging on the pornographic (quick, pass me my nurses outfit and Dracula's lusty fangs), and carved-out jack-o-lanterns.

Hail the Pagan's who first brought to the world, All Saints' Day, and kudos to the Americans who have ensured the traditional celebration of the end of harvest season, is now one full of orange-coloured consumerism.

Here's a pretty vintage pic to add some hallow'd glamour to the Intern's first London Halloween.

Laying it out there...

Over the past two months, the Intern has been working her butt-off at BAZAAR on their January 08 issue, Travel Guide… It’s been fun. It’s been hectic. There have been more than a few thousand e-mails sent and received (and that’s no exaggeration), and a fair few long distant phone calls requiring venturing into the office early to catch hotels closing in the southern hemisphere, and staying late for those across the Atlantic to get their act together and respond/return calls. Now the copy has been through subs (fact-checked and confirmed - of course yours truly made sure everything was good-to-go before subs, but hey, they got a job to do), and for the last couple of days art has been busy laying out the pages… Ahhhh, mag-talk, don’t cha love it?!

Last week when a freelancer was trying to locate high-res images of the hotels and resorts featured, she stumbled across a few boltholes who’s kindly owners new nothing of computers, and far less about digital cameras… Thus, copy was dropped for lack of a pic! Says quite a bit about the function of a glossy magazine, does it not?

The fact that the Intern wrote five of the entries based on press-kit info alone also intrigues those not in the know. Being new to the biz myself, I jumped at the chance to contribute to the Guide – any chance to get my name in print – in my excitement I told family and friends, their reaction at all times, the same, “Does that mean they’re going to send/fly you there?” Ah, no.

Today, looking over the shoulder of a designer as he mixed-and-matched images to copy any sense of loss that the initial reactions of my friends caused me, was erased. There were my stories, on the chic Mac screen. My words along side pretty pictures – nothing better.

Tête-à-Tate Britain

Grey skies, falling temperatures and intermittent rainfall might get some Londoners down, but not me. With an extra hour in the day (bye-bye English Summertime) I braved the cold and met with two friends at Pimlico tube, for an afternoon of the Turner Retrospective at Tate Britain. If I am honest, art has never really been my thing. Modern art, even less so… I find a lot of works are over-analysed and their artists are often self-indulgent souls, who sadly, have bought into their own hype and think every blotch of paint they splash across a canvas somehow conveys all the meaning and depth of a literary classic – unfortunately, I just see paint.

But, as my friends were the same ones to join me at London Fashion Weekend, and as GF’s hubby dutifully joined us at that event – without sarcasm or snivelling – I thought we owed it to him to venture into the majestic old gallery, and wonder at the dissected cows…

Millbank, London SW1P 4RG

The Turner Prize was first awarded in 1984, and has been the subject of much debate in the two decades that have followed. Open only to British artists, the prize aims to draw greater public attention to contemporary art. This exhibition provides a unique opportunity of celebrating the winners and also to reflect upon the progress of modern art in Britain’s recent history.

Note to reader: If you’re in London before 6 January, 2008, definitely stop by the Tate Britain. And if you’re hungry, around the corner, The White Swan serves up a mean Steak and Guinness Pie, but steer clear of the wedges… £2.99 only gets you six slivers of potato and a teaspoon of sour cream.

14 Vauxhall Bridge Rd, London SW1V 2SA

The Departed

I know it was released in cinemas over a year ago... I first saw it in New York, the week after seeing Mr Leonardo DiCaprio in another awesome film, Blood Diamond, and was blown away - figuratively, that is...

So what better way to spend a cold Friday evening than watching a great DVD and indulging in some take-away?

Next time you get the chance, definitely get this one out. It's stellar case (Leo is joined by Matt Damon, Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Alec Baldwin and Martin Sheen)... and it's Martin Scorsese direction at its best!

The Departed (2006)

Winner of 4 Oscars: Lies. Betrayal. Sacrifice. How far will you take it?

Signature Scents

In the last few months many a celebrity has launched their own perfume, Kate Moss launched 'Kate', Katie Price, 'Stunning' and who could have missed Posh and Becks dual launch of 'Intimately'? Across the Atlantic Gwen Stefani's debut fragrance, 'L' took on SJP's second eau de parfum, 'Covet' (You see it in the window. You know you shouldn't... but you can't resist), but I have to say I haven't taken a whiff of any of them. Why? Because as passé as it is, I'm a signature-scent kinda gal.

From aged 16 to 21 it was 'Ralph by Ralph Lauren', I still remember the heady feeling I experienced when I first sprayed its spicy goodness. It lingered on my clothes, and I applied it liberally to all the rooms in my house (come on, don't we all do this?). One day, at 21, I was visiting my parents and saw a tempting round vial - and I was won over at first sniff. The fragrance, Carolina Herrera's 212 - and my dizzy love affair has continued to this day...

Buy 30ml online for £25.99

www.thefragranceshop.co.uk

Absolutely Scrabulous

Preparing for this blog entry, I signed on to my beloved Facebook to steal an image of the object of my addiction... the Scrabulous board - and low and behold I had a message from a friend who I had invited into a game a few days ago. I signed her up without her knowledge, and her tardiness had led me to believe that this time my geek-factor had gotten the better of our friendship. But, no. Her message tonight read loud and clear, "Your turn!" She'd accepted my challenge, formulated a 16-point response, and once again it was time to assess my rack. Scrabble, it's got game!

I signed up to online scrabble (Scrabulous) about the same time I registered on Facebook. I have always loved playing word games - my Mum and I used to spend hours on family holidays with bums glued to chairs and fingers poised in the pages of our trusty Oxford dictionary, me just waiting for the time that I'd beat her, just once - so, the chance to incorporate my love for online friendships (on Facebook I have 190!) and words, was too good to pass up.

I started playing with good friends, friends-of-friends; I played group-Scrabulous and one-on-one, and with each new game I got better and better. By that, I mean, I started cheating less (yes, you can cheat - just check out http://www.findtheword.info/ and search crossword solvers to discover new words you've never heard of... and some pretty sneaky 2-letter score busters). I now remember high-scoring words and save them for critical moments, like when I'm 14 points down and want to take advantage of the triple-word square. But I have yet to opt to play with virtual-strangers. While there are groups for those Scrabulously-addicted (see: http://www.scrabulous.com/) I still prefer to know my challenger. And I'm proud to say that I have got some of my nearest-and-dearest totally hooked.

So next time you're online, check us out: we have 21,571 active members.

What's in a Word?

At the moment we're putting the January Travel supplement "to subs" - this is a busy time... Made more hectic by the fact that writers we had commissioned to review for our Guide haven't submitted their copy yet (that is, they haven't sent in their stories...). This has left my editor and I to do the write-ups for hotels and resorts we haven't even been to, when we're already inundated with the zillion other tasks required in order to get the issue to the printers on time. The only saving grace? I'm getting paid 100 pounds a piece for each review I write. Secretly, I want the writers to fail - it means I can splurge on a can of tuna in springwater, instead of in brine... Yummy!

Being part of the process though is the best part. Seeing how my editor turns crap copy into something half-way readable, and how she cuts 400 words down to the required 175 is fantastic. At university I always had trouble keeping within the required word-limit, but with the amount I have been writing at BAZAAR, I have become quite adept at cutting to the chase. Or so I think...

Watching three different editors (from three different sections of the mag - travel, features and entertainment) debate over some Guide entries today highlighted just how subjective the whole writing-thing is. As each read over my editor's shoulder, Entertainment exclaimed, "Oh, I hate when 'they' describe lush gardens..," while Features responded, "But I like lush gardens, I know exactly what 'they' mean," as my editor wiped the screen of the "lush gardens" and edited the sentence to focus on the 19th century marble sculptures to be seen from the bay windows in the hotel's lobby - that overlooked the bay in Cornwall.

Each woman is in charge of her section of the magazine - and each would have written the piece with an entirely different focus. Call it an angle, call it style, call it what you will... all I know is that I then spent a good ten minutes going through my reviews to assure myself that I hadn't sprouted anything "lush" or worse still, found anything "nestled" in the "heart" of any towns. When you're dealing with such a restricted word limit, cutting a sentence in half can make or break an article, and using the wrong word can definitely ruin your mag-cred.

Then there's working to deadline. Spending yet another day in the office until after sundown I began to question, and begrudge - ever so slightly - the freelance writers. Because no matter how crap their copy, they had visited the resorts, enjoyed their free dinners and spa treatments, and had been paid for a review that would have taken less than an hour to write. And now, their copy was being transformed, being manipulated and cajoled into something worthy of the printers. And it was their name, not my editor's, that was going to be gracing the glossy pages.

But who enjoys the greater glory?

Two Press Meets and a (nearly) Pair of Louboutins

Thursday last week was definitely a day straight out of the la la land - the perfect mix of Devil Wears Prada and Ugly Betty. The Intern attended her first press lunch, paraded around in £2,000-heels, and was schmoozed by the owner of a luxury-Indian hotel chain (no, that’s not an oxymoron… they really do have swish hotels).

But let’s start at the very beginning…

It’s a law of Murphy, that Very Important Days (VIDs) will be thwart with unforeseen problems. They’re the days that you lose your house keys, the days you miss the train or bus or that last cab before the cabbies 3pm-changeover… Thursday was the day I got dressed in the dark – literally.

With a visiting friend bunking in my bed for a week, I woke quietly, left for my run noiselessly, returned and got dressed silently; not wanting to wake my house guest. The result? My outfit consisted of perhaps my oldest white T-shirt, a sloppy grey cardie, and my skinny jeans that aren’t so skinny anymore and tend to bag in the bum area. Oh, and flats. I had chosen flats over heels so that I’d make less noise when rummaging around the house.

The first hour at the mag was business as usual – busy, but good. Then the deputy travel editor asked if I wouldn’t mind going to a press breakfast that she just had, “no time to make.” It was 10.45am and she was already an hour late. But she assured me that they would wait to meet with me, if I could, “just spare an hour…” Sure. Why not? I was going to represent the magazine. Awesome. It was only then that the travel editor commented that I also had, “that posh lunch” on. What? Posh lunch? Huh?

At that moment my stomach lurched and I remembered that it was in fact Thursday, and that I had said that I’d attend a press lunch for the launch of a new luxury yacht. But I had never been told it was posh. Imagine all the frenzy of the movies – there was shrieking, and heads popping up over desk cubicles asking what was wrong, commenting on my attire (and offering helpful hints!) And there was me. Standing in the middle of the room, in baggy jeans and a crappy-T. My face bright red. “To the fashion cupboard!” was the general consensus. “Like anything will fit me!” was my retort.

But luckily, while sample clothes are only an intsy-wintsy size-6, sample shoes are size 39-41. Models have big feet! So, I paraded around for a blissful few moments in a gorgeous pair of Balenciaga’s (retail: more than £2,000), and a funky pair of black Louboutin’s (about £1,000) that I was almost given permission to traipse around town in, until the fashion department realised that the shoes had yet to be worn on shoot, and that it would be a bit hard to explain their scuffed-heels to Mr Louboutin’s people… So, I donned a lovely fitted black jacket (size-8!) and told myself that my flats went "fine" with my outfit. After all, I was going to have to mission around town, wearing heels would just have been silly.

First stop was the Covent Garden Hotel, to be chatted-up by the owner of the Indian hotel chain. They had recently launched a cruise ship, and wanted to know if I was interested in going on a press trip there next March? Ummm, “Yes please!” Not quite sure that I’ll end up going on that one, but for now, I will dream.

Then it was off to the stunningly-refurbished One Aldwich Hotel, for a short presentation on the new liner (a 280 passenger yacht, with a staff-to-guest ratio of 1:1), followed by a three-course lunch, and wine, lotsa wine.

After 3 hours I thought it best to skip dessert and head back to the office, after all, battling through the late afternoon when you have piles of work to finish and you’re ever so slightly heady from your red wine, is not the best kind of fun. But, if I’m honest, I didn’t care one bit about staying till after the sun had set. Because on that day I had gone from Intern to Assistant (as far as the PR-peeps were concerned) – I had been wined-and-dined, and tried on shoes worth more than my whole wardrobe. Bring on Prada, baby!

NB: The Intern apologises for her absence last week but she thought it prudent to give herself a break – to stoke the creative fire that is her brain – after all, she’s just past the 60-entry mark! Impressive, no?!

Talking Tyra

I secretly love that supermodel Tyra Banks battles with her weight. It makes her normal. What I love more is her recent transformation. I know these pics are a little old - Tyra in the green bikini was taken early in 2007 after her much publicised loss of 20-odd pounds (9kgs)...

But, they give me hope that by changing my own exercise regime and keeping down my calorie-intake (Tyra loves her fried chicken... my vice, as previously discussed, is Top Shop's pick-and-mix candy stall, oh, and Ben&Jerry's ice cream)... that in a few months I too can don an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-effervescent-green-bikini!

So girls, here's some inspiration: you can go from this...

to this...


And if you read some of her interviews (check out People magazine, Feb, 2007) then you'll find Tyra's no serial dieter who turns to crazy, quick-fixes... She's actually quite inspiring, and down-right bootylicious.

The Issue

In the world of glossy magazines, we live our lives approximately 3 months ahead of schedule. This is because of a little thing called the 'Editorial Calendar' and a big thing called 'Production.' These elements combined equal fast-forward - and it can get exhausting.

It can also be lots of fun. When it's cold outside you can be thinking warm thoughts as you plan out a summer issue, and when you're feeling low at summer's end (in the northern hemisphere at least) you can be cheered up with the organising of December's Christmas issue. Like now... there's nothing that puts a smile on my face more than seeing red and green in the office, and chocolate gift boxes, and candy canes, and bows and ribbons and all the trimmings! Although, these products are all lying around Country Living's office space, at BAZAAR (across the hall)we're showcasing couture classics and children's toys that cost more than my yearly salary -which I suppose isn't too hard given my internship only pays 100 pounds a week!

But with the weather turning, and deadlines looming, it's hard to avoid getting run down. Most people in the office arrive around 9.30am, skip lunch and then work through until well after the sun has set (which in London at the moment is around 7.30pm)... Long days. I know there are occupations that demand more hours, and even ones more physically taxing, but it does make me question: why all the stress? After all, magazines service PR, not the ER. And yet the pressure put on those in the industry is enormous. Our bookings editor quite nearly made herself sick with stress today over confirming a model and her flight for a shoot we're doing next week... the model was toying over the job based on whether or not she would be flying business class or not. This waif-like 19 year-old was literally holding our BE to ransom - over extra leg room!

For those who judge glossies harshly for merely being paper-waste advertorials, I urge them to walk a day in an editor's Manolos... they'll feel more strain than simply blisters.

Run Forest, Run

The time has come for me to embrace the mini-marathon. For years I have fervently argued that power-walking is just as valid a form of exercise (read: weight-management), but the shrinking forms of my running pals have forced me into admission: running helps you drop pounds faster than walking. It just does.

My middle sister met her husband a few years back, and he immediately got her into running, and biking and swimming - and before we knew it, my sister, who had never even owned a gym membership was taking part in triathlons, and coming a place!

My dad is a daily jogger, and patiently counts down the days each year, along with Tim Bailey (Australia's Channel 10 weather man, for those not in the know...) until Sydney's City2Surf - a 14km run from Sydney's CBD to Bondi Beach, held annually in mid-August. Us girls, (my eldest sister, middle-sis and me) have joined him for the race over the years, and it was always Dad and I up the front, with my sisters strolling along with the thousands of others in the back-of-the-pack. But not since she met hubby. No. Now middle-sis trains, and partakes in various other races during the year, so that come August she's raring to go, and tackles the 14km around 70 minutes.

While I have missed the last 2 years City2Surfs (being overseas and all) I have not lost my resolve to one day take on middle-sis at the starting line. But thanks to the countless tubs of Ben&Jerry's I consumed in New York I found on arrival to London that not only had my waistline expanded, but my fitness levels were at an all-time low. Over the past 3 months I have endeavoured to start getting myself back into shape (sans the gym, because I just can't afford the £85-monthly fees! eek!), and over the weekend, I took to the pavement once more.

With the parentals in town I offered to take Dad jogging south-side of the river. Bright and early on Saturday Dad and I left from their hotel, and ran along the Thames and around the leafy parts of Wandsworth. When I realised that I was able to run without coughing up my lungs, I decided I should give this jogging-thing another go. Back home I checked out the route we had taken - by marking out the streets on runlondon.com (awesome website!) - and it turns out we had run just under 7km! So I figured by running a few more times round Wandsworth Park I would hit 10km - a distance hitherto unimaginable in the mind of the Intern.

5am Monday saw me in my gear, joggers on, and ready to blast my 10km run. And I did. In 56 minutes. The plan is now to run 4 times a week on alternate days... I'll keep you posted on the progress (hopefully, regress) of my waistline... Oh, and on my improved fitness levels, of course!

Short-term goal: Compete in the Wimbledon 10km run, 21 October 2007

Long-term goal: Run a marathon

Don't hate me, I'm a Royalist.

Most little girls want to be princesses at some stage of their young lives. They want to wear the pretty dresses, and dance with their prince charming, and have servants, and carriages and be given dainty glass slippers... but not me. I never wanted to be a princess, but I was convinced that I used to be one. Yes, when my playmates were dreaming about one day being Cinderella, I was daydreaming about my past life as Elizabeth I. Long-live reincarnation!

From the first time I ever heard about the Tudors and Stuarts, I became obsessed with the English monarchy. In later years I sought out books on Henry VIII and his eight wives, and then on his daughter Elizabeth, and then her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots. In senior school I knew by heart the royal succession from the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066 CE, and I even constructed a dolls house (complete with working lights) based on houses of the Victorian era. While my history teachers focused our lessons on Aboriginal heritage, I was nose-deep in all-things British. The two hundred-odd years of Australian colonisation just weren't enough history to get me excited. I wanted stone castles set high above rolling green pastures, with moats and medieval foot-soldiers dressed in armour.

So it's no surprise that on each occasion that I visited London (prior to relocating here back in June), I made a trip to the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey - the three big-cheeses of the English monarchy in the city-proper. Last Saturday, however, was my first trip down south to Windsor Castle, and it did not disappoint.

Windsor Castle dates back to the time of William the Conqueror - who ruled from 1066-1087 - and is the largest inhabited castle in the world, housing just over 150 people, most of whom are servants and grounds-keepers, and then visiting diplomatics. The Queen considers Windsor to be her 'home' and spends most of her weekends there. Interestingly, the current royal house adopted the personal surname of Windsor (after both the town and castle) in 1917, due to the negative German sentiment at the time of the First World War, their previous name being of the House of Wettin, Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.

As far as castles go, Windsor has all the trimmings. Built high on a hill, complete with a moat (now fostering a well-manicured garden), stone walls up to 4-metres thick and its own majestic chapel. Back in 1992 a large portion of the State Apartments were destroyed by fire, while no one was fatally injured, a number of priceless artworks were lost in the blaze that was caused by a halogen light igniting a curtain. After 18-months of restoration, walking through the halls now, you would have no idea that anything had been damaged at all. The rooms are beyond grand. They are filled with the finest of furnishings, and celebrate the years of monarchical rule in Great Britain. A definite must is taking advantage of the free audio tour, as well as making a stop at Queen Mary's Dolls' House, built in the 1920s as a gift for Queen Mary, wife of King George V. It stands over five feet tall and contains miniature works from great artist and craftsmen of the time, complete with electricity and working plumbing! I have to say, it put my little Victorian-wonder to shame...

Totally Wicked!

I have always been a sucker for Broadway shows. As a little kid I'd pretend our lounge room was my personal stage. This included moving the furniture to 'the wings' and setting up chairs in a row for the family members and friends I'd managed to manipulate into watching my little musical... Phantom of the Opera was of course my favourite. I knew the auctioneer's opening lines about the, "papier-mache musical box, in the shape of a barrel organ..." off by heart and belted out all the classics, Think of Me, Angel of Music, Masquerade, I even attempted Christine's shrill scream, much to my neighbours' dismay. So it wasn't such a stretch for my parents and I to make a visit to the theatre while they were in town.

But what to see?

As their baby, I got to choose. And I chose Wicked. And it was brilliant! The three of us went in knowing only that the story told about the lives of the Wicked Witch of the West and the Good Witch of the East, before Dorothy and Toto met the Wizard. I don't want to ruin it for any of you - and I truly hate writing reviews - but if you want a synopsis check out Musical Cyberspace at http://www.geocities.com/joecable1997/sz/wicked.html. What I can safely say is that the songs were contagious, the singing inspirational, the theatre jam-packed and that the entire audience applauded and awarded the cast with a standing ovation. I even cried. Yes, when Elphaba (the WWW) and Glinda (the GWE) realise that deep down they are each other's best friends - to the tune of For Good - and are forced to say their final goodbyes, I was smearing my make-up and quivering-of-lip... you gotta love a musical with soul. Even one that's green, and wicked.

Catch Wicked in

London: Apollo Victoria Theatre, 17 Wilton Rd, London SW1V 1LL

book tickets online at wickedthemusical.co.uk

New York: Gershwin Theater, 222 West 51st St, New York, NY 10019

book tickets online at tickets.nyc.com

Food for Thought

Friday afternoons in the office (well, most days after 3pm really) and people start calling across their cubicles for something sweet, something savory, just generally something that they can get their hungry mitts on...

Not wanting to blow your whole week's healthy eating and those early morning gym sessions (or in my case, power-walks... because I can't afford exy-gym fees), here are some options that will keep you going until dinner, but won't make you bloat!

Almonds 'n' apricots: high in protein and fibre but low G-I, take about 8 dried apricots and 20-odd natural almonds and you have a healthy snack topping out at 250 calories.
Yogurt 'n' honey: my fave... low-fat natural Greek yogurt, drizzled with a tablespoon of honey and you're maxing-out your cals at 140.
Apples 'n' pears: mix the two and you've giving yourself some variety, or split them over the course of your day, you'll feel the fibre and love their calorie-count, only 65 big-ones each!
Homemade berry-smoothie: keep away from sweeteners, both real and fake, add skim milk and real fruit and you're getting your fibre and dairy in one easy drink, about 200 calories.
Dark chocolate (more than 70% cocoa): lowers your blood pressure and is full of antioxidants, and 20 gram bar contains less than 100 calories.
Peanut butter on crispbreads: take 2 teaspoons of organic peanut butter and spread'em on 2 rye crisp breads and you're in for a real treat, full of protein, good fats (yes, they do exist) and you're weighing out at only 180 cals.
Trail mix (minus the smarties, for the Americans amongst us!): mix your own seeds and raisins - think pumpkin and sunflower seeds - and a 3-tablespoon portion adds up to only 240 calories.
Grapes and cheddar: so for this one you have to resist the urge to down them with a nice glass of Chianti... but on their own this healthy treat is high in calcium and vitamins B2 and B12, and if you choose red-grape varieties you'll be upping your fibre intact as well, only 180 cals for a 30 gram chunk of cheddar and a handful of grapes.
Avocado on toast: if you ever visit NYC you HAVE to go to Cafe Gitane (my old waitressing haunt, deep-down in SoHo)... they make the best Av on toast ever... their secret? Organic wholegrain toast, and a sprinkling of lemon juice and chili flakes, one slice, with half and avocado has around 220 calories.
Hummus and crudités: make your own hummus with fresh chickpeas, tahini, garlic and lemon juice - and indulge in your delicious dip with some carrot sticks (high in beta-carotene), or potassium-rich celery, only 125 calories (based on 50 grams of dip).

So go on, snack and be happy!

(info thanks to realbuzz.com)

Another Luxe for Less

It's Thursday again and if I were back in Australia I'd be thinking late night shopping, here in London, on my current menial salary I'm locking myself in the office over lunchtime to avoid the temptations of Carnaby and Oxford streets... but who am I to make others suffer?

If you have some money to burn one of the coolest trends at the moment are little ankle boots. I just love them! But having always worried about them shortening my legs, I tried a pair on the other day and much to my amazement, they add length... if you team them with a short bubble skirt. But for those of you already blessed with perfect-pegs, lace up your booties with skinny jeans for this trendy Winter look.

Luxe

Burberry Prorsum Victorian patent booties £495.00

(available online at net-a-porter.com)

Less

Brogued Lace Front Ankle Boot at ASOS, £30.00

(available online at asos.com)

happy shopping!

Great Britain Means Time

Time for me is always of the essence. I like calenders and date books, and watches and wall clocks, and marking out my day/week/year so that I know that I am making the most of my life. Because how we spend our time, is how we spend our lives. The wisest of time related quotes (that's according to moi, and after a very quick Google search) is:

“Time is free, but it's priceless. You can't own it, but you can use it. You can't keep it, but you can spend it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back.” Harvey MacKay

So, with only a few days in town the parentals and I took a few hours out of our day, and caught the train to Greenwich, on the south bank of the River Thames. Not only a gorgeous little university town south-east of London, Greenwich is also the home of World Time as we know it... that's GMT (Greenwich Mean Time) - and it got me wondering... what did the world do before time?

Surely, morning and noon time and evening weren't enough for people prior to GMT's implementation in the late 1800s - it took a while to catch on throughout the world, but Great Britain adopted it from shore-to-shore in 1880... Walking round the grounds of the Greenwich Observatory, the home of the meridian line (see me straddle time with style below), I felt like a little kid, I just couldn't help asking "how?" and "why?" I just knew I'd seen clocks and watches in artwork that dated before the 19th century... so, onto Wikipedia:

• Yes, there were clocks before GMT...
• The word clock is derived from the Latin word for "bell" - clocca
• Water clocks and sundials were used as far back as the 16th century B.C. in Babylon and Egypt
• Church records suggest mechanical clocks dating back from the 13th century C.E, with some evidence of mechanical clocks in Asia in the late 700s
• Spring-driven clocks were developed in the 15th century, and the first minute hand on a clock recorded in 1475 (facts courtesy of Wikipedia.com)

So basically, what happened in the 1800s was Great Britain deciding it was going to make itself the centre of all time. After all, they were at the height of their Empire... what better time to control the lives of others?

Parents Eye Spy

After eight long months (having caught up for a weekend's stopover in San Francisco last February), the Intern is spending a week with her parents, in her adopted city of London. In typical UK-style the weather turned grey and rainy as soon as their plane set off from Copenhagen, so Tuesday's sightseeing was hindered somewhat by fog.

Where do you take two travellers who have been visited London more times than you, and over a period of more than 30 years? On a cloudy day - well no place better than for a ride on the London Eye... don't laugh, it actually was quite nice.

Fashion’s Playground

On Sunday I made my way across the river to South Kensington and the Natural History Museum, to look at all the pretty designer wears left over at London’s Fashion Weekend. Far from including great clothes from the new season’s range, the leftovers on sale looked more like the designer’s attempt to ditch summer’s stock – and the crowds of crabby girls rummaging through the racks and tables made the experience much like many other designer sales… disappointing and exhausting.

As far as freebies went, Grazia magazine’s sponsorship didn’t extend far enough as to supply us shoppers (most of whom paid £10 -15 entry fees) with a free issue, for that you had to pay an extra 5 quid for a ‘goodie’ bag that included an issue and the usual sample-size-bits-and-bobs from hair salons and vouchers from high street stores. No thank you, I prefer the PR packs sent to us at BAZAAR!

The highlight of the day would have had to be the NEWTREE Gourmet Belgian Chocolate stall whose marketers were very generous dishing-out samples (one girlfriend bought us three blocks: sexy dark choc and ginger, original dark choc and blush dark choc with sumptuous cherries. Yum, yum.

And my faith in men as supportive partners was renewed by the fourth member of our party, my other girlfriend’s husband, who walked graciously behind us girls as we giggled and squawked over the lack of range, the small sizes and the exy-pricetags. He even bought us lattes mid-shop for a bit of a boost, and accompanied us to Hummingbird's for some tea and cupcakes – definitely the highlight of the afternoon.