Results tagged “Blonde's Eye View”
Angela Clarke is a tourist in Chavdon.
Like most Londoners I tend to go out locally at the weekend. I pop to The Grapes or The Narrow, at a push I might go to Wagamamas.
Visiting other London mates means visiting their locals in the various "villages" of the city.
Angela Clarke does some backtracking
Alcohol and I have fallen out. It's been brewing for a while.
You think alcohol is your friend, but he's not. Sure, he's great for the good times, when you're having a laugh, but where is he the next morning when your face is stuck to the bathroom floor and you can't find your wallet?
Angela Clarke should maybe man up
Each Monday I ask my colleagues about their weekends. About a year ago I noticed a change in the answers; an increase in activity weekends.
It started with the odd half marathon, and has ballooned into motorcross races across the Moroccan desert.
Angela Clarke's dos and don'ts of Valentine's Day
I hate Valentine's day. Thank God the tacky trinkets and themed set menus have been binned for another year.
Giant velveteen rose anyone? No thank you, that doesn't go with my tasteful décor.
Angela Clarke doesn't cry in business meetings.
Last week I had a drink with some work colleagues. Consulting on a specific project, we've only met a handful of times.
Everything was flowing fine and dandy, till one girl had her handbag nicked. Right there from under our feet.
Angela Clarke gets her dream home... finally
I've always felt estate agents didn't deserve their bad reputation.
Like most Wharfers, they are just trying to get the job done, and get home in time for fishfingers in front of EastEnders.
Angela Clarke accesses 2009 shopping disasters
Annually I like to clear out the junk I've bought to make room for the new junk I'm going to buy.
My cupboards are an inventory of shopping disasters. There are the beautiful shoes I had to own whatever.
Angela Clarke has a rare case of 'outside Zone Two envy'
I can't write this and not mention the snow can I? It's all over the country, on the news, in the papers, and it is all anyone talks about.
I risk sounding like an old codger, but in all my years, I can't honestly remember it being this chilly, for this long.
Angela Clarke debates the evil of round robin printouts
By the time this goes to print the first week of January will be underway.
Once more we will be enjoying the continuous cycle of commute, work, commute, work. Any residual holiday relaxation will have disappeared into the dustbin along with the drooping Christmas tree. And so another year begins.
Angela Clarke laments the survival of the office party
Step foot outside the office at lunchtime and you take your life in your hands.
The shopping malls throb with harried shoppers and those hunting for a working ATM.
Angela Clarke is not going anywhere near the chemical toilet
During summer I watch the canal boats chug past my balcony. At this time of year they are less frequent.
It's bad enough being buffeted by wind and pelted by rain on the DLR - why would you subject yourself to the elements on a boat?
Angela Clarke says bah! humbug
Christmas 2009 has arrived.
With the shopping, the food, the parties, the relatives, and the outfits; I've got more lists than Santa. I get overexcited.
Angela Clarke gives you washing machine barbie
Walking past illuminated glass fronted penthouses and riverside residences it is comforting to know that, rich or poor, we all dry our clothes on plastic folding airers.
You may drive a Ferrari, but your knickers still drip dry in front of the radiator. With tiny balconies and in our climate, it is the only way to get the washing done.
Angela Clarke compares Wharf glamour with takeaway chic
Canary Wharf looks very different from when I moved here eight years ago.
Back then the only supermarket option was a tiny Tesco Express. It had eight aisles of alcohol and two aisles of sandwiches.
Angela Clarke on dancing around her flat and not manning-up her salads
My partner is at a stag do this weekend. He leaves Friday morning and doesn't return till Sunday evening.
My friends have rallied round to fill my diary. Girls' night out on Friday? A museum on Saturday? How about afternoon tea on Sunday?
Angela Clarke goes into mourning for the loss of her cleaner - but she suspects the sadness is born of another cause.
I have been abandoned by my cleaner. She has returned to Poland because she needs to see a doctor.
The NHS is that bad.
If Angela Clarke wanted to be manhandled she'd go to Tiger Tiger
I've survived another wedding season, and can finally hang up my wedges for the year.
It's been a gruelling summer. Particularly trying because of the current vogue for Ceilidhs.
Angela Clarke has lost her Daddy. Where is he?
My car is still broken. I'm sick of having daft telephone conversations with garages.
What type of vehicle do you have? A grey one. What type of tyres does it have? Round ones.
Angela Clark on a train with no destination
It's nice the DLR are celebrating the release of the Beatles re-mastered collection by conducting their own Magical Mystery Tour.
Monday evening, when you want to be home with a restorative glass of Cab Sauv forgetting the week has started, and the trains are playing guess who.
Angela Clarke swaps waiting for trains with waiting for the AA
I wish we had a mainline station at the Wharf.
Then, when I wanted to leave London, I wouldn't have to lug my suitcase to Paddington, or any of the other big stations that suddenly feel a million miles away when you are carrying your heavy duty cosmetics and six pairs of shoes.
