Stupid stupid weather

It looked so promising yesterday. Blue sky. Sun. On my walk along the Thames I saw these crocuses. I didn't need to wear my wintercoat. And to add to my happy springy state, Ireland won the ruggers and Bridge didn't shake Terry's hand which looked damn funny. Then today. It was pissing down on my way to the gym. Still raining on my way back. I am sneezing again. And yesterday's good mood is pretty much gone.

Please please please weather gods, stop messing about. You've had your fun. Now give us spring.

Disappointed is an understatement

A new national trauma. WC '74, Hilbert van der Duim's missed lap on the 5k, Seedorf's penalty. And now Sven Kramer's 10k in Vancouver. Disqualified because of an error of his coach.

I watched it online, while chatting away on Twitter. And then it happened. Coach Gerard Kemkers told Sven to take the inner rather than the outer lane. Bye bye Olympic Gold. Bye bye Olympic Record. Hello amazing sportsman. Sven's interview for Dutch TV was impressive. So composed, so mature. I so felt for him. And almost even more for Kemkers, the best coach we've ever had. A beautiful person, judging from what I've seen from him in the past twenty or so years. By 3.24am I was still wide awake. Almost feeling their devastation. Thinking of Sven. Thinking of Gerard. And thinking of the amazing things these two have done. I hope they (and the rest of the team) can do more amazing things in the team pursuit on Friday.
Picture nicked off Wereldomroep.nl

Barca

Fish monger at Mercat de la Boqueria
Originally uploaded by Gypsy Saskia

Mercat de la Boqueria, just off La Ramblas. The only activity of the weekend. My cold was so bad I couldn't really move too much. Thank god my appetite hadn't gone though. We had some of this lovely seafood and some more for dinner on Saturday. Lunch was pinxtos in El Born, in the basque cultural centre / restaurant. And we managed to squeeze in two more resto visits to eat some local food.

Luckily my friends weren't too energetic either for various reasons, so we kinda snugged up on the couch, covered by blankets, all weekend, catching up on all things and reading. Cosy. The rest of Barca can wait till my next visit. June ticket has been booked!

Barcelona!!

32 Tibidabo
Originally uploaded by Gypsy Saskia

Almost four year after my first visit, I am about to head back to Barcelona. And as a visitor-of-friends rather than a full blown tourist this time. A weekend full of chatter and banter with Martin and Elena, beautiful Catalan food, an expat soiree and whatever else might happen. Twelve hours and counting!

Skin OD

After my last project, I got the feedback that I was very lifestyly (yes, I know that is not a word) and too much of a fashionista (the latter says everything about the person who said it and very little about me). Fair enough. Had said person told me while I was still on the project, I would have worn a suit a bit more. As it were, I was wearing 3/4 black trousers and red patent heels on a regular basis.

What I wasn't wearing, were short skirts and low cut tops. Each to their own, but I don't think it's particularly suitable in an office environment. Clearly, many of the female staff of a London company I visited this week, think differently. Half of them could have gone clubbing straight from work. F*ck me heels, cleavage, short dresses, the works. Only the sparkles were missing. It does make me wonder....if I get hugely distracted by staring into someone's cleavage during a meeting, how must the men that were present have felt? Surely 3/4 black trousers and red patent heels would have been less distractive?

Spring?

Yellow on purple
Originally uploaded by Gypsy Saskia

Can I please declare spring to be opened? Offical yabba aside about some date in March? I have seen crocuses and daffodils, it is sunny and apparently there are little lambs already. Surely that must mean spring. I would like to interpret yesterday's miserable rain as the turning point of informal seasons. Goodbye you bastard crap cold snowy winter, hello spring, we love you.

Outed

First there was Petite Anglaise. The pommie in Paris who was anonymous until her employer found out about her blog in '06 and the following law suit was all over the papers and even on CNN. A book deal followed, and last year she stopped blogging.

My new favourite blog was Liberty London Girl. A pommie in New York's fashion world writes with the self deprecation the Brits do so well about her love life (or lack thereof), about food, and mostly, about fashion. The people, the shows, that skirt, those trousers. I knew her bra size from one of the hilarious posts but had no idea what her eye colour was. And I kinda liked it that way. Today however, she outed herself in Grazia. I tore open the plastic wrapper and went straight to the page of the interview. A pretty friendly face. Belonging to a girl who talks about writing a sitcom and turning her blog into a book. Now she is known to the world, the blog won't be the same.

So I need a new one. A blog that makes me laugh, makes me want to go places, to cook food, and most of all, makes me want to get to know the writer through her blog. Or maybe Sasha Wilkins can prove me wrong, and entertain the world with her stories for a long time to come!

Sports sports sports

After yet another week of cardio, pilates, aerobics and more cardio, I am pretty pleased to see a decrease in centimeters and a more toned body. The hard work is paying off. And the great feeling after a hard work out is so worth the effort.

The Irish' rugby team's hard work didn't pay off quite as much today. They lost miserably from the frogs. After a hugely exciting Wales-Scotland match, Les Verts broke their winning spell. Unlucky 13, after having won 12 matches in a row.

Now I am counting on Sven Kramer to make my day from a sports perspective. If only he can skate towards gold tonight.... While I am listening to Jochem Uytdehaage on the radio, I go back to the Salt Lake Olympics in 2002. While Jochem was skating his 10k, I was driving home from a farewell party of a colleague. I broke my own speed record on the A10, cheering and shouting whilst driving, hoping to catch the last laps. Just when I reached my exit, Jochem won gold. Tears of happiness running down my cheeks. Today I am lucky to have the combination of BBC internet and Dutch Radio 1. Go Sven Go! Make our day!

Bowler Hat Day

Jeans day for the aids foundation, pink day for the breast cancer foundation, and Bowler Hat Day for Haiti. The English and their charities. Not only doesn't anyone seem to walk a longer distance than tube-home without raising money for a charity, offices do their part too. So for jeans day our head honcho sent round an email suggesting we could wear jeans to the office, if we paid £2 for charity. On pink day you had to pay £3 (partners £10) unless you were wearing something pink. And tomorrow there will be peeps selling bowler hats and bowler hat pins at London Bridge and Leadenhall Market, encouraging office workers to re-live the old days, whilst raising money for SOS Children's World Haiti.

Weekend

Mary is here, the Six Nations are starting and I am about to cook a lovely meal with fresh fish and veg from Borough Market. What more could a girl want?

Dinner with Mugabe

I finally finished the book on Mugabe I was reading. Dinner with Mugabe, by journo Heidi Holland (who jokes her next book will be Out to Lunch with Ahmadinejad). It's a fascinating insight in the transition from freedom fighter to tiran. It doesn't make excuses for what he has become but it tries to understand and explain. At the end of the book, the writer finally manages to interview Mugabe himself. She asks him how he would like to be remembered. His response?
"Just as the son of a peasant family who, alongside others, felt he had a responsibility to fight for his country. And did so to the best of his ability. And was grateful for the honour given him to lead a country and be remembered as one who was most grateful for the honour that the people gave him in leading them to victoria over British emperialism. Yes, for that I want to be remembered."

The man is a total and utter nutcase. But it makes for fascinating reading about the country I so loved when I visited it in 1997.

Snowy Amsterdam

Prinsengracht in the morning
Originally uploaded by Gypsy Saskia

It was effing freezing, it was snowing and it was so slippery I fell three times and still have the bruises to prove it. But it was also dinners with old and current colleagues, lunch with girlfriends, drinks with old friends and sing alongs in Cafe De Twee Zwaantjes. Happy days in the Dam.