Take me on a trip...

The best thing about earning pounds is being able to save (spend) them. At the moment I’m saving to pay off (a wee bit of) debt, buy a new (designer) handbag for my birthday – only 28 more sleeps! – and (finally) go on a few holidays. First stop Marrakech.

In the second week of September a girlfriend and I are taking advantage of a Lastminute.com deal and heading to the ‘Red City’. Like Patsy and Edina before us - think Ab Fabs’ Morocco episode circa 1994 – we’ll set up camp in a Riad, inhale our hookahs and bathe in the North African sun.

October will see Boyfriend and I spend a weekend in Paris. He’s une vierge de Paris so I’m very excited about showing him all my favourite places. I’ve even managed to score the same (tiny yet beautiful) whitewashed studio apartment where girlfriend and I spent two sun-filled weeks last August… Deep in the heart of Le Marais we’ll enjoy the treats of the Old Jewish Quarter, sip aperitifs at the cafes along Rue de Rivoli and hire bicycles to get us to – and from – all the tourist hotspots.

Before long Christmas will be upon us and we’ll be enjoying a week with my parentals in Portorosa, on the Italian border of Slovenia. Even though temperatures will likely be sub-zero the four of us will bundle ourselves into dad’s hire car and drive 298 miles to spend three nights in Dubrovnik… Why? Because I want us to.

And just yesterday, an overly excited phone call to Miss Daisy (remember Ode to Daisy) sparked an idea for a week-long girl’s escape to Majorca in early February…



But the biggest and best plan is Boyfriend and my 29-day trip from Istanbul to Cairo. Leaving on Valentines Day we will brave yet another group holiday – so far we’ve survived a month’s camping in Canada and a two week road trip from New York to Miami – through Turkey, Syria, Jordan and Egypt. We’ll wander the ruins of ancient cities, devour questionable delicacies and bargain our way through bustling bazaars. May the camels not be too stinky and the terrorists take leave…

It’s such a wondrous feeling to have money again!

Rosé, Pimms, Champagne and sunshine... London's summer

London is sweltering. The mercury has reached 30 degrees two (almost three) days running and tourists and locals alike are celebrating the chance to wear their summer clothes while sporting sweaty, sun-kissed faces... We're all moaning about heat exhaustion, as you can imagine.

But yesterday, I sweltered in style at the Cartier International Polo Tournament. Meeting up with a group of girlfriends at Liverpool Street station early in the morning, we mini-bused our way down to Windsor to sip Pimms with the Royals and an array of B-grade celebutants and sports stars. Sadly Wills and Harry were off serving their country so it was down to Emma Watson (a.k.a. Hermione Granger) to keep Prince Charles company in the Royal box. Lucky her - seriously - as that dingy little box was the only shade that was on offer when watching the matches.


Touted as "The biggest (and most glamourous) polo day in the world," we were eager to see what all the fuss was about. And what better day to take an interest than when Australia was playing England? Given the bumper to bumper traffic we experienced on our way there - more than 25,000 guests attended and most drove their Audi sports cars and Range Rovers - we missed The Prince of Wales team play for The Golden Jubilee Trophy, but managed to get in a good few hours of drinking and people watching before our boys in yellow and green took to the field just after 3.15pm.

The sun was still blazing when we took our seats, and it blazed on as our team rode by and expat girls dressed in their finest, woof-whistled and held up an Aussie flag. The excitement - and confirmation that Australian's really try their darndest to bring down the calibre of such haughty-taughty events - continued when three streakers emerged from the grandstand to sprint across the pitch before hurdling two metal barriers to escape! Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi!

England went on to take the championship, 10 -9, with an impressive goal in the last few minutes but by that time most of the crowd had retreated to the only available shade, behind the grandstand! This little (bright pink) piggy had been in a sun drenched coma since halftime...

As days out go, the polo is definitely an event worth the mission when in London. Ascot may have Ladies Day but the polo has picnics! Nothing beats bringing your own basket and taking ownership of a few square-foot of lawn. And while mere mortals bring their cheese and crackers, it was nice to see a number of lobster shells embedded into the grass as we packed up picnic and headed for home. God save the Queen!

Doing too much

I like to think that I strive when pushed to the limit. And that I’m quite adept at juggling tasks and managing the unmanageable. Since I was all of twelve and jogging weekday mornings with my dad I have drawn strength from the mantra, ‘The Body doesn’t stop until the Brain tells it to’ – until last week.

Last week I was told to slow down by the two people in my life that I really listen to… Suru and Daniel, my Pilates instructors.

For just over two months I’ve embraced my hour-and-a-half lunch breaks and headed to the gym – 45 minute interval training on the cross trainer or treadmill and a spin class every now and then – on top of my three weekly Beautcamp sessions. I’ve been telling myself that 4 hours sleep is perfectly reasonable, as long as it’s regular, and that catching up with friends at lunch would be a waste of otherwise productive exercise time. I’ve not been counting calories (seriously over that since my session with Mr Hypnosis back in March), I’ve just been super active – like the Energiser bunny on Guarana. And I thought everything was going well.

Except while my brain was telling me all systems were ‘Go!’ my body was getting tired. And the Powers That Be noticed. Last Wednesday I scored a one-on-one session with Suru when no one else showed for our 6am class… Having a personal session meant he could work me as hard as he wanted – as hard as I usually want to work – but my muscles were so knackered from Tuesday’s session and my further lunchtime run that I could barely hold plank position without every muscle shaking. In his softly spoken way Suru suggested I drop my workouts down to only four hours a week… In a state of hubris, I scoffed.

Fast forward to Friday when it was Daniel’s turn to beat my Beautcamp butt and softly spoken was out the window. Daniel flat out told me I’d ‘Lost it’. I was gutted. He told me to take a week off and come back to him… it’s been six days.

So in place of the gym at lunch I’ve caught up with friends and taken advantage of intermittent London sunshine. And while I sneakily booked into Suru’s Tuesday and Wednesday’s classes (nothing beats waking up to Beautcamp in the mornings) I have definitely focussed on getting at least six hours sleep every night and have thoroughly enjoyed having energy enough to read a few chapters of my book each night.

Now I think I’m ready for the true test… Daniel’s class tomorrow – 7am. But just to be sure my energy levels are prime; I’m going to stock up with a big bowl of pasta tonight!

Showered with Cosmetic Affection

Sunday afternoon sipping mimosas and devouring bespoke cupcakes (care of London’s own Lavender Bakery*) made me realise… you can take the baby out of the magazine journalist, but you can’t take glossy-chic out of the baby.

Girlfriend and mag-mentor Miss B is 38 weeks and about to pop. So with a decade’s experience writing how-to-hosts and styling party features Miss R (a fellow ex-pat and ex-Aussie mag editor now of Wee Birdy* fame) took it upon herself to organise the ultimate baby shower.

Call in the caterers, call on Miss R’s web designer husband to create the e-vites and call in the mag girls for the chicest gifts in town… The result? Perfection, clad in designer.

Gift-wrapped Mamas & Papas, organic baby oils and creams and couture threads all the way from New York (half the guests hopped, skipped and jumped across The Pond) it was soon clear Baby B is going to be one well-dressed, Sephora-smelling* fashionista from the minute she makes her debut.

But is it bad to cultivate the consumer when bubba’s still in the womb?

After much soul searching - and a fair few hypotheticals - this glossy chick has decided, unequivocally, no. Because any baby worth their bath salts first lesson should always be... never look a (designer) gift horse in the mouth.

* www.lavenderbakery.co.uk

* www.weebirdy.com

* www.sephora.com

Windows Shopping

No it's not a misspell. It's my new favourite pastime. Online retail therapy that doesn't cost a penny.

Even with a regular paycheque I'm still far from able to spend willy-nilly - the desire to pay off my parental debt is too strong - but shopping is in this girl's DNA, so with enthusiasm, I've evolved.

I've long been a lover of online boutiques like Asos.com, Topshop.co.uk and more recently Allsaints.co.uk. From the safety of my desk I scroll through their aisles of clothes, sort by colour, size and style and avoid unflattering change room mirrors. And within 48 hours my new wardrobe is delivered to my work (care of our post room) for colleagues and myself to ooh and ahh over.

Such efficiency can get expensive. But with Windows shopping - the online equivalent of taking a stroll down the high street and trying without buying - you follow all the same steps: pick and choose and move coveted items to your shopping cart and tally up the postal fees... It's just that when it comes to click 'Buy', instead you click on 'X' - do not pass Go, do not spend £200!

You still get the buzz from a real spend, there's just no buyer's remorse and better yet, no explanations need to be made for the presence of yet another new item in your cupboard.

However, this little game - while providing hours of entertainment - is not exactly foolproof. There have been times when the desire to spend is just too strong and with a trigger-click of my finger I have become the (proud) new owner of a pair of Gladiator Suede Fringe Sandals or a replica Miu Miu handbag, but I argue that these times are few and far between. And, these purchases are always put on Debit - because Credit and the Net, a happy pair do not make.

So get clicking!

Girly weekends

Nothing quite beats spending quality time with your girlfriends. And with Boyfriend away for the weekend at the Goodwood Festival of Speed in Chichester, the Assistant organised her own social calendar (for a change) and arranged for her two besties from Bazaar to come over for a slumber party...

Meeting up in Kensington to buy organic 'supplies' at Whole Foods (apple and chutney chicken liver pâté, porcini mushrooms and vine ripened cherry tomatoes to name a few) we were forced to board three separate trains to get back to Balham, thanks to yet more engineering works taking place on the underground. Once home, said-Besties delighted in the new abode, offered their congratulations and praise for its fastidious cleanliness and then proceeded to get comfortable.

Contrary to male belief such female gatherings do not take place in the nude, however, to be sure, bras are quickly removed and restrictive skinny jeans are changed in favour of trackpants and comfy t-shirts. And while it would be nice for guys to think that girls spend all their time cooing over their significant others, the truth is often far less refined. Saturday evening's conversation enjoyed a fair amount of time on bodily fluids and functions, with one friend suffering from three days of unwarranted (in her mind) constipation and all three of us battling out of the blue period-like pains. Not pleasant, but a relief nonetheless, to be able to talk so openly and compare notes on inevitable life pains that good girls aren't meant to suffer from.

It was refreshing to see celebration of similar female faux pas at Sunday evening's screening of Sex and the City. Yes, she's well-on two months late and yes, the film's probably just about to hit the DVD shelves but with her busy work schedule taking time out with her girlfriends has fallen to the wayside. Two-and-a-half hours of covet-worthy couture and emotional ups-and-downs (a large popcorn and bag of skittles) later, the Assistant and two other time-poor girlfriends nattered over the successes of this much anticipated silver screen finale as the credits closed and the rest of the audience hustled out of the cinema. Their conclusion: Fabulous!

Truly there is no better therapy than giggling with your girlfriends.

Back... With stories to tell

Over the past two months The Assistant has started her new job, earned her own client, visited Wales in order to write a review (for a movie for which a press ticket to the advanced screening never came through*), gone zip-flying with a party of 12-year-olds, been wined and dined by hopeful PRs, watched her boyfriend make 91 runs and earn Man of the Match in club cricket, raved in a crowded music tent with thousands of sweaty Londoners at the O2 Wireless festival in Hyde Park - where Underworld reaffirmed top place in her clubber's heart of old - and finally, last night competed with her new workmates in the JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge 2008**!

She ran the 5.6km in an uninspiring 33 minutes. And, has been sure to inform all those who ask - and even those who don't - that her tardy time was the result of her exhausting herself with a high impact boxing session at lunchtime. Next year she's aiming for an ambitious 29!

But perhaps the biggest change since last she wrote was the move into her Balham flat with said-Boyfriend. Gone are the days of tinned spinach dinners, Boyfriend is responsible for creating culinary delights to rival Jamie Oliver and even prepares colourful, organic bean salads and cous cous for her to take to work for lunch!

She's loved-up and earning a 'real' wage - for the first time in over a year - and now with her routine down pat she's ready to revive her beloved blog.

She just hopes you're all eager to read along!

* http://www.harpersbazaar.co.uk/going-out/The-Edge-of-Love/v1

** http://www.jpmorganchasecc.com/events.php?city_id=10&page=events071008