The Year In Review

It's New Year's Eve, so in true Bridget Jones style, I thought I'd do a bit of a summary of my 2007. Here goes: Number of kilos lost: not enough Number of kilos gained: too many to mention, especially since Christmas! Number of blog posts: 126 (pretty impressive, eh?) Number of countries visited: oooh, now I have to think for a second - 19? Australia, Singapore, Iceland, France, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Albania, Montenegro, Macedonia, Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Israel, Germany, Belgium.... not bad for 1 year, eh? Number of new nieces: 1 Number of houses lived in: 1 (but now currently homeless) Number of gyms joined and then quit: 1 Number of boyfriends: Alas, none! Nah, it's too difficult to do a Bridget Jones on this one. Can't think of how to make it witty enough, sorry. Apologies for my poor efforts, ok? I guess though all that is left to say is that 2007 was a pretty good year, rock on 2008! How was your 2007?

Merry Christmas

Ok I know I'm posting this a few days after Christmas but hey, I was very busy that day (and subsequent days) and also if I don't do this now it will look dumb as it will appear on blogger dated as Jan 2008...

Christmas Day was very good. I have to say I haven't had as good a Christmas as this one in a very long time. It didn't start off that way though - don't get me wrong, it was lovely to open presents with Mum and Dad and have it be "just us" on Christmas morning, but when I got to the meeting, and we were only just on time, so I didn't see many of my friends before the service, and then got to the pew, and Marcella blanked me, and then squealed at me when I tried to say hello (all during the first song) - well that was somewhat depressing! Also, looking around the hall and seeing the new babies, and all the changes, well, that made me feel very old and also, if I be really honest, somewhat left out. I tried to focus on the positives, Nanny and Grandpa were there, Grandma and Grandpa too - and Beck and Dem, Mum and Dad - but still I couldn't shake my depressed mood.

So I tried to sing the first song, but hey, it wasn't even a carol, and I didn't really know it, and the music was really loud, and Marcella was bawling, and tears were welling up... but then, a miracle! Suddenly I heard (very loudly, I might add) a voice yelling "Auntie Kylie!", and I looked down the pew, and there was Harry, running towards me, arms outstretched! He enveloped me in one of his neck-crunching bear hugs (no mean feat for a 7 year old, I tell you), and instantly I felt so much better, felt loved, felt like I belonged again, felt like I WAS HOME. Mel and Kev had arrived with their clan - all a surprise, I didn't know they were coming to North Brisbane for the service! I was able then to get into the spirit of Christmas and I would have to say, that one moment set me up for the rest of the day.

Mum tried something a bit different this year, instead of the usual hot Christmas dinner, with turkey, chicken, ham, all the trimmings, plus Grandpa's mushy peas, this time we had a cold dinner. This consisted of still turkey, chicken and ham, but with avocado and something salad by Beck, Mel's fried rice and potato bake, pasta salad, potato salad, a couple of kilos of the juicest, plumpest, largest tiger prawns you could ever hope for, plus a swag of crabs (sandies and muddies) that Lach and Dad had caught over the previous week or two, kept alive in the live bait box - somewhat like the fatted calf - oh boy were they yum. With Mum's famous Christmas pudding for dessert - yum-o!

Then there were the presents - we took our time opening them, only one person at a time (took forever but at least you got to see what everyone got and see their reactions too - no pressure mind!) - Lach was being santa until he got a Ben 10 watch from me, then he kind of got distracted and forgot that he was supposed to hand out the presents! So I had to take over the honours...

The boys then spent the afternoon in between playing their playstation and swimming in the pool (despite it being a bit windy and unusually on the chilly side - there's a cyclone warning up north or something that's causing the big wind and cooler temperatures - its supposed to be 27 degrees but with the wind feels more like 21) and we sat around chatting for a bit before Beck, Dem and Marcella had to head off to Dem's fam's Christmas celebrations.

Grandma and Grandpa, and Uncle David, Aunty Christine and Simeon turned up for "Christmas 2" - the evening meal - which basically consisted of leftovers but this time with Tiramisu cheesecake and a Fruit cheesecake - oh boy, my hips didn't know what hit them! Going to seriously need to do some sort of exercise over the next few days (yeah, like that's going to happen with dodgy ribs!).

Anyway, what a truly lovely day. I hope you had just as good a Christmas too.
Merry Christmas! Roll on the New Year...

Mel, Bethany, Beck, Me after church

Good To Be Home

My sister Beck commented the other day that I hadn't updated my blog since something like 15th December. I guess because I am at home at the moment, and because its mostly Aussie family and friends who read my blog (if anyone actually reads it at all!) I kind of figured that they all know what I've been doing, as I've been with them - but on the off-chance any of my overseas friends are interested, here is a quick blog update...

Well Mal and I arrived safely back in the lovely Bris Vegas after our lengthy and fortunately relatively pain-free (well, except for my ribs, that is!) flight home. We'd overnighted in Singapore, which gave me a chance to meet up with Jun (fast becoming our annual tradition now) and also this time Wei Na, who I hadn't seen for some 3 or 4 years, which was lovely. We went out in a part of Singapore called Clarke Quay, where a new shopping complex opened up this year, and which also has become one of the most popular parts of the city for restaurants and night-life. It was really good to see them again and I had a great time catching up. Top stuff, eh Jun!

When we arrived in Brisbane it seemed like the whole of Australia (with a couple of Germans and Dutch chucked in) arrived too - Mal and my bags were one of the last to be let off the plane and then we had to join the horrendously long 'goods to declare' queue. I had brought some shortbread, chocolates, lollies, tea and stuff as gifts - plus my usual Wensleydale cheese for Mum - but this time the customs dudes have been taking lessons in how to be mini-Hitlers (probably from their Pommy counterparts) - and the blighter that I got confiscated my cheese. His argument was that there had been foot and mouth disease this year in the UK (like, when hasn't there been? - and also, this time it was in Surrey, so learn your geography dude, the Yorkshire Dales are in the North, and Surrey is in the South, near London). I hope he enjoyed my cheese for Christmas with a piece of fruit cake or something. The blighter!

The nephews and nieces were unfortunately absent from the welcoming party at the airport, which this time just consisted of Mum and Dad, but it was lovely to see them anyway and we then made our way back home via Nanny and Pop's, and Grandma and Grandpa's - so I didn't feel like I'd missed out too much. The reunion with the rest of the fam would take place the next day. Too tired now for anything, I crashed and went off to sleep. Not for long though, awake again at 4.30am, which is strange for me, as I don't normally suffer from jetlag when coming TO Australia, its usually only when I go back to England that I really suffer. So I lay there for ages and then finally got up around 5.30, made myself a cuppa and sat out on the back porch looking out over the canal, listening to the birds singing, enjoying the warm sun on my face... ah, this is the life!

Beck had arranged for everyone to come over for breakfast at Mum's (but Dad had forgotten he'd organised a dental appointment for me at the same time, which I subsequently missed and had to reschedule!). Demo cooked up some lovely French toast, bacon, eggs and so on, on Mum's bbq, and we had that out by the pool. I got the chance to meet my cute new niece Bethany, now just shy of 2 months old. Marcella, my other niece, is now a year old and boy is she a little honey! But she's very shy and basically took one look at me and bawled. Nice to know I have that effect on her. I can see there's a lot of work to be done before she'll be accepting of me.

Lachie and Harry though, well, they just bowled me over with hugs and kisses! And oh boy, have they grown a lot this year, they're real little boys now (well not so little I guess at 9 and 7) - Lach was down on the pontoon showing me how to check the crab pots (and he caught a couple too, a nice sandy and a good muddy which we later ate Christmas day). And they want to take me out in the dinghy to go to the shop for icecream... how cool is that?

Anyway, it was a lovely breakfast, good to see everyone again, and I can't wait to spend some quality time with all the fam over the next few weeks.... so good to be home...

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

These past few weeks have been some of the toughest I've ever been through in my life, I reckon. And the only way I've made it through to the other side has only been through the support of my friends and family. So it's highly appropriate I think that I give some big thank you's... To Erik: Thank you for everything you did to make sure that Bowles went smoothly. Thanks for all your support with the kids, your technical wizardry with the video / sound (especially the fancy concert intro with the Jenneh video - oh and thanks for making me look like an idiot with my 'Oscar-winning' (not!) dramatic acting performance to accompany it), thanks for setting cover for me at school, for making sure the music department didn't fall apart... Thanks pretty much for everything (especially for putting up with me being a bit of a git too... sorry about that...) To Mat: Thanks for making sure the Yr 10 Abolition of Slavery project was a success. Seriously, if it wasn't for your input, the thing probably would've been a fiasco. Thanks also for making sure Concert Band didn't fall apart, the camp was a success - thanks for your support and encouragement too. And for everything you do! To Agnieszka: Thanks for helping me to pack my boxes! Would've been in a big pickle otherwise... To Paul: Thanks for (to put an Americanism on it) 'stepping up' and teaching all my classes whilst I've been off - that's been a big deal for a student teacher - thanks for being a good mate - and thanks also for helping me move today! To Mal and Ken: Thanks so much for your help with the move today, seriously wouldn't have been able to do it without you (literally - Ken we really needed your muscle power! - and great Luton van driving skills...). Oh and thanks for being willing to let me stay with you this week when it looked like I needed it! To Jane: Thanks for helping with the move and also for your support. Oh and thanks for the Starbucks too! To Mrs Mingay: Thanks for helping me sort out somewhere to keep my stuff til I find somewhere to live, thanks for all your support and kind words... To Olive: Thanks for letting me keep my stuff in your garage! Hopefullly I got everyone in there, but if not, thanks anyway for all your help! The good news is that the people who are moving in here after us have decided to take my bed (seriously that thing was sooo heavy, I was absolutely dreading having to move it) - which means that we didn't need to move it today! Yay! And that now means that I can stay here for another week (now that I have something to sleep on) - so I haven't got to schlep to school from Chessington on some crusty, overcrowded British Rail train... (but thanks again Mal and Ken for the kind offer of a place to stay anyway)... Now if only this stupid, persistent cold would go.... and my ribs would heal....

School Music Camp

Well last weekend saw me, 9 other teachers and 40 odd kids off to Music Camp at an outdoor education centre near Tunbridge Wells, Kent.  The centre has to remain unnamed because one of the students googled it and came up with this blog...

First of all I would like to say that it was a real success, the kids totally enjoyed themselves and made some good progress musically. The staff were top quality, and I absolutely could not have done without them - particularly as I myself was still not well.

In fact, two days before the camp was due to start, I was out carolling with Sutton Salvos in Wimbledon for the turning on of the lights for St Raphael's Hospice. It was pretty cold, and there were only 4 of us there, battling the elements - and I was the only tuba. You try playing tuba with a cold! I could only manage a breath span of 2 or 3 notes - made for real legato playing, I'll tell you - NOT! Anyway, as we get to the end of the last carol, I'm still hacking up a lung, and I start to feel a bit of a stitch developing in my side.

The next morning (the day before the camp) the stitch was absolutely UNBEARABLE! Complete and utter agony. I made it into school but realised pretty quick that I just could not stay - and in fact needed to go to Accident and Emergency at King's College Hospital. So the school called a cab for me and off I went - only to discover that I have sprained my intercostal muscles from coughing. Sprained ribs! Seriously... you wouldn't read about it...

So the doctor signs me off for the next few days - no camp for me. But I'm the lead teacher on the camp - not very likely that I'll be able to take the time off....

Thursday (the day of the camp) came, and I dutifully phone into school to explain my situation, and both the deputy head and my line manager put the hard word on me! No, you need to go to the camp.... I tried to explain that I would go down on Friday (thinking maybe I would go Friday afternoon / evening) but they reckoned that I wouldn't be able to drive down (I would be in too much pain), that I wouldn't be able to manage my luggage on the train (yeah right) and that if I go down today with the kids I could just go straight to bed. Yeah, as if. Like I'm going to get quality sleep in a room off a corridor full of excited kids on their first night of camp! But they kept it up, put the hard word on - pressure pressure pressure - seriously, what planet are these people from? So of course I felt obligated to go and went.

What a stupid move that was. I tried to go straight to bed but the kids made such a racket, who could sleep? And also, the weather was sooo cold - so everytime I went out into that good, clean, cold, country air, I would have a coughing fit of the highest proportions - just what sprained ribs need!

For the next few days I tried to take every opportunity I could do get some rest, but I was having to conduct the concert band, and help supervise kids, yada yada - and all the while, really they didn't need me there anyway. There were enough music teachers there that they would've covered the band if I'd asked, and to be fair, the staff were really supportive and tried to make sure I really didn't have to do too much anyway. I would love to say I had a great time but to be honest, I was in excruciating pain pretty much the whole time - and I'm afraid I took it out on my poor colleague Erik, who had done such an amazing job organising the whole thing. He really was amazing, and I am deeply indebted to him for the success of the camp.

Anyway, I survived, the camp was enjoyed by the kids, the concert was ok... but I've spent the last 3 days paying for it! I went into school on Monday in excruciating pain and so many people came up and asked me what on earth I was doing at school! Finally the Deputy Head saw me and told me to go home and stay there until I get better (should've let me do that last weekend, eh?) so I went home and went promptly to the doctor. This time I begged him to give me antibiotics, or something other than ibuprofen (like ibuprofen actually works! As if...) and finally he gave me Amoxicillin - although as he was writing out the script he told me actually not to take it! (Why write the script then?). This is because he says that my infection is viral, not bacterial. Anyway, I've now been off school for 3 days, unable to do anything other than lie still in bed... (although I still had to go to school tonight for a concert - it never ends here at CEBS). I still don't really feel like I'm getting better and my ribs are seriously killing me! And I have to move out this weekend - when (and how?) am I going to get the chance to pack? When am I actually going to be well enough to pack? I seriously can't lift anything...

So I feel pretty low at the moment, and pretty sick of being SICK!

An Open Letter to the Fat, Balding, Drunken British Yob in Brugges

Dear Mr Fat, Balding, Drunken British Yob we met in Brugges,

Yes you.  Thank you for reinforcing my belief that British tourists when abroad are complete and utter twats.

We met you at the restaurant on the square in Brugges on Saturday night.  You and your simpleton family were on about their 4th or 5th bottle of wine when we arrived.  You particularly were being loud mouthed and noisy, but hey - we made our way to our table and ignored you.  Well, we managed to until I needed to go to the toilet.  I got up to go and you first of all insulted me by calling me a boy, and second of all insinuated that I was a paedophile as you expressed your concern about what I might exactly do with your roly poly lump of a son, who it seemed also needed to go.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree on that one, now does it?

Then when I returned to my table you loudly wondered again what I had done with the git.  To the consternation of the whole restaurant, looking down into their meals out of embarrassment for yet another 'Brit Abroad'.

And then, when it was time for us to go, you again made some loud, obnoxious comment about me and your butt-ugly offspring, which this time received uproarious laughter from your inebriated simpleton family.

But the final straw was the Inspector Gadget reference you made when I put on my coat.  Now that was real wit, wasn't it?

So I would just like to say to you, congratulations, you spoiled my weekend in Brugges, and reinforced for me two things - first of all, that Brits abroad can be total yobs, and second of all - that every day I wake up and thank God that I'M NOT BRITISH!!!!

Jane's Birthday Bash in Brugges

So next weekend is Jane's birthday, and in honour of the event, we went to Brugges this weekend to check out the Christmas markets. The weekend though didn't get off to a particularly good start. This was because it was seriously thunder storming on Friday night. I am still fighting this blasted cold and had made my way home via the doctor's surgery - yes, it has been confirmed, I have a viral infection, and no, they won't give me antibiotics, the blighters!. Anyway, I was walking up the road from the doctor's when the heavens absolutely erupted. In the space of 200m my jeans were absolutely soaked. But the worst of it was when I got home. I arrived to a completely dark house - unusual I thought, maybe the girls have gone out - but when I got inside I discovered they actually were home, sitting around a torch trying to eat dinner. The power had gone out. Some berk, when installing the garden lights, thought it sensible to link them to the house lights - so when the garden lights get soaking wet, the house lights go off too. But do you think we could get the power back on again? Absolutely not. And I needed power to dry off my jeans for tomorrow! In the end Dave, the landlord, had to come around and sort it out. We were a bit dubious about that, knowing his handyman skills (somewhat like Tim the Toolman Taylor) however we were lucky on this occasion and he ultimately got the power back on by isolating the fuse that the outdoor lights were on. Murphy's law though, would have it that it was the same switch as the lights to my room. Absolute bummer. So although I could power up peripherals like TVs and computers, I couldn't light my room except for candles. Fortunately though my jeans dried, and in time for the trip the next morning. Jane's friend Sharon had stayed the night, she was coming on the trip too, so we all set off fairly early in the morning and made our way down to Eurotunnel. After a fairly uneventful crossing, we headed off to Cite Europe for a spot of shopping as we weren't sure if it would be open the next day, Sunday, on our way back. We found out though that it would - it's December after all - so moseyed on around the shops for a few hours. The weather had been gorgeous leaving England, but unusually was overcast and grey when we arrived in France. This then turned into full on thunderstorms with heavy rain by the time we started to make our way to Belgium. It was quite late at night when we finally arrived at the Formule 1 in Zeebrugge, so we quickly dumped our stuff and drove into Brugges. It was absolutely pinging it down as we wandered around the remnants of the christmas market (including the giant 'swimming pool' that was the ice skating rink - devoid of skaters in this weather though) and then we went for dinner. More on that in another post. Made our way back to the hotel, and headed off for bed. The next day we went back into town and this time all the stalls of the Christmas markets were open. We spent a lovely few hours sampling waffles, hot chocolate, hotdogs etc as we wandered around the markets. I got some really nice Belgian chocolate too. Then the rain returned much more heavily so we packed up and headed back to Calais. Bit more shopping there, then off to Eurotunnel, then home. It was a very enjoyable weekend, very cheap price too when we split the price between us all! Alas, now back to school....

10...9...8...7...

Yes, 7 days to go til we take the girls from school on our 2nd ever Music camp, to the Bowles Outdoor Education Centre in Tunbridge Wells. We had an amazing time last year and I'm really looking forward to it, but I have to say I am quite a bit frustrated. This is because of all the narrowmindedness I've had to deal with of some people. Seriously, the camp is costing an awful lot of money, and most of it is being paid for by the school. All we're asking is a small contribution from the parents, and we're funding the rest - but still after signing the forms to say the kids can come, some parents are now turning around and saying they can't afford it, so they won't let their kids go - after we've paid the money already for the camp and are not able to get a refund. Fortunately many of them change their tune when I tell them they'll have to pay the full amount if their daughters don't go on the camp... but it has been a very wearing day and I've been on the phone to so many of them! I appreciate Christmas is coming, but seriously! They're getting 4 days full board, outdoor activities, musical activities, transport - for £50! (cost to the school = £250!). Oy ve... not to mention that the parents who have been 'crying poor' are also the ones who provide new Nike shoes, the latest mobile phones, designer labels for their kids. Ok I appreciate that maybe they're brand copies, but it just goes to show where their priorities are... kids education... or latest gadgets... Anyway, looks like I've hopefully sorted most of it out, rock on next weekend!

It's Not Easy Being Green

Don't be alarmed. This is not going to be a post about global warming or the environmental agenda. Or even about Kermit the Frog.

I'm am absolutely sick to death of being sick!

I came down with a bit of a cold last Wednesday, which got progressively worse as the weekend approached.  Suffice to say spending an afternoon in the rain at the Boot Sale didn't help things either!

So I ended up having to have 2 days off school, Monday and Tuesday, and actually had to spend those days in bed.  Now normally if I'm sick, I'll sleep for a couple of hours, but then be able to potter about the house.  Not this time, I just could not get out of bed.  It was awful.  But the worst thing was, I wasn't getting any better.  Hacking up a lung, runny nose, fever - awful.

Then yesterday I had to go to Manchester for Inset (in-service training).  I had to take a 2 hour train journey there, leaving the house at 6am - this is no mean feat when you are not well.  Anyway, I was on the train, minding my own business, but then suddenly I got an attack of the killer coughs, and had to pack up my stuff (I had been doing some editing on my laptop) and go hack up my lung in the corridor.  It was awful.

No better once I arrived either.  Nor on the journey back... 

And I had to go to school today, I can't afford any more time off (and also it was parent night tonight).  I don't know when I'm going to get better, but I wish it would be soon... it's not easy being green...

Battered, Bruised And Beaten At Battersea Boot Sale

Today I endured one of those quintessentially English experiences. You know the ones I mean, like queuing for the bus in the rain only to watch the bus sail past as it is already too crowded to take on any new passengers, or enjoying the smelly armpits on a crowded Tube on a Summer's afternoon...  stuff like that. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, today I was initiated into the phenomenon that is the Car Boot Sale.

And oh boy, was I underprepared for the onslaught that ensued. I had been to a boot sale before, in fact I went to one with Mal and Ken when I first arrived, and I had also been to several computer fairs with them, so I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. Oh boy was I wrong.

Before I can go into all the gory details, I'd best give some background to the decision to actually participate in a boot sale. You see, Nicole is moving home and Jane has found somewhere cheaper to live, so from 25th December I am officially homeless, as I didn't want to have the responsibility of trying to find new housemates when I would be in Australia anyway. They would move in whilst I was away, and I would be more than a bit worried about strangers in my house around my stuff, if you know what I mean. Plus its really expensive at our place anyway, so it's time I found somewhere cheaper. Of course, this means downsizing - as prior to Le Villa Wavertree, I had lived by myself in Chateau La Hackbridge, thus necessitating purchases of furniture, cooking utensils etc, and therefore accruing a whole load of STUFF. In order to live more cheaply I'm going to need to move into a shared house, hopefully already set up with this stuff, so it's time to get rid of a lot of it. It's sure not going to fit into a small room.

The UK is not as set up as Oz with regards to the Trading Post. Sure, they have their 'Loot' magazine - but there's a lot of whackos out there and I wouldn't feel comfortable about them coming over and looking at my furniture. Then there's the 'Gumtree' - clientele mostly Aussies and Kiwis - well I put some stuff on there, but no joy. So that left the last resort, the Pommy version of the garage sale - the car boot sale.

Now these mostly take place on a Sunday (I think there may be some on a Saturday though), usually in school car parks and other buildings / open lots which are not used on the weekend. Jane did all the leg work and phoned up the one at Battersea Technical College, which is apparently a very good one, and we got ourselves a plot booked for Sunday 11th, at a cost of £12. They told us to arrive at 12.45pm and the sale would open at 1pm. I was a bit skeptical, as it would only give us 15 minutes to set up, but went along with it, because we didn't exactly have any other options, now did we.

Well as I said before, it's been some time since I've been to a boot sale, and as Jane and I both had things to sell, I thought it best if we price up our items with coloured post it notes. I kind of envisaged the two of us sitting happily on a couple of chair behind a table, people casually strolling by, looking at our merchandise, negotiating the price with us - and we would calmly write on the post-it the new price, stick the post-it in a container with the money and later on work out how much we each made. Pretty good idea, I thought.

Sunday approached and the weather looked grim. This was not aided by the fact that I have been suffering for several days now with a heavy duty cold - laryngitis, sniffles, sinusitis, and a huge hacking cough. So I wasn't feeling the best about the boot sale, but it's the only weekend we can do it, so we loaded up the car and set off. Nicole had given me a little warning beforehand - she said that we would do the most selling within the first 10 minutes and that it would be to other stall holders, as they would scout around to see what they could get cheap and mark up for their own stall. She also said they'd probably swamp us as we were setting up. Ok, I thought, I can handle that.

Oh no we couldn't. We pulled up to our alloted spot, got out the car, and the minions descended upon us like vultures on a rotting carcass. I hadn't even made it to the boot before some guy was screaming at me "Any mobile phones? Any mobile phones? Any Playstation?". "Go ask her" I said, indicating Jane, as I knew she had some. So I opened the boot to start unloading, and no joke, people started pulling things out of my car and looking at them. They were screaming for the TV, for the computer monitor, for mobile phones, for Jane's computer (she was offloading her old Mac), and they were pushing and shoving, and I was being pushed away from the car. And that's when it got nasty.

Picture this: Jane is over by the passenger door, swamped by people bidding on her computer, playstation, you name it - I'm trying to unload the boot, being pushed away by people scrambling to see what we have - one guy takes out Jane's sky tv box, another the computer monitor - I'm trying to keep an eye on them - then I see one guy's got my old camcorder and asking the price for that. He wasn't keen on the price I gave him, so he put it on top of one of the boxes I'd unloaded. Someone else is now crowding around looking at my garden chairs, I'm trying to keep an eye on everything, people are shouting, screaming, pushing - and then one bloke asks me if the guy had paid for my camcorder. What guy? Yep, you guessed it, some guy walked off with my camcorder. "He's just over there," the other guy says. "Where?" I hadn't even seen him, and I was off wandering around. But of course, I never saw him. The blighter walked off with a perfectly good Canon camcorder which originally cost me £300. And I had committed the cardinal sin - I had left my post - so Jane couldn't handle all the people crowding us as I was looking for my camera. I lost my Star Wars electronic game (a real collector's item), my computer speakers and my camcorder.

The afternoon was therefore wrecked for me. My top selling items had been nicked, and no-one was interested in my coffee table, or my dining table, or even my external modem. Jane made a real killing, she sold her playstation, a TV, her mac, her video recorder, her DVD, mobile phones, DVDs... you name it, if she had it, it went. Fairly. Not nicked.

Me, I managed to offload a little bit of stuff, but not all that much. Coupla books, coupla CDs, coupla DVDs, but that's about all. One bloke, looking through my CDs, asked if I had any Jazz. "Sure, here's some Herbie Hancock," I replied, showing him the disk. "Never heard of him" was the response. He only wanted - get this - Kenny G! That's the guy's extent of jazz knowledge! Oy ve. Meanwhile, Jane, being somewhat obscure in musical and movie taste (compared to mine) - managed to offload a whole heap more than me. Just goes to show you what sort of people go to these boot sales... either that, or I should worry about my taste in music...

I was feeling pretty low about the whole thing, and about the only saving grace was that Agnieszka had been in the neighbourhood, popped in to see us and plugged us with fresh, steaming hot coffee (oh and a yummy muffin!). Very welcome on such a cold, miserable, overcast afternoon. We'd been there about 2 hours when the heavens, which had been threatening for so long, finally opened up, so we cut our losses (again, mostly mine), packed up and headed home.

Final tally: Jane, most things sold, only 1 thing nicked (a hat) =£400+ after costs. Me, most things unsold, several things nicked (worth £300+) = £70 after costs.

In the words of Queen Victoria - WE ARE NOT AMUSED!!