So, I have been observing the behaviour of the women in my work team over the last few months and it has been interesting to say the least.

We have had quite a few personnel changes, with three great colleagues leaving us, which I would like to highlight on before I start this post.

'PJ'

Our wonderful Chair's PA, 'PJ', left us for another role. When she left, we felt the pressure. She was the 'Oracle' and a fountain of all knowledge. Whenever we had a problem or needed an answer, we would always ask PJ. That proves beyond any doubt how vital she was to the setup of the office. The Admin team will never be the same again, seriously!

'Leads'

'Leads' was next to leave us. She was the life and soul of the secretariat. Despite not officially being placed within our team on the hierarchy, Leads was definitely considered to be a main cog in our working machine. She was bubbly, fun and showed us all how to make a 'real' salad at lunch time - Sainsbury's iceberg lettuce sales were up during her secondment period.

'Roondog'

'Roondog' departed from our team and the glue that held us together seemed to lose it adhesiveness. Her wedding checklist and housekeeping emails have been sorely missed and our team has struggled to get to grips with not having the benefit of a kick ass Office Manager around to look after our interests.

Ladies although you have gone, you will forever remain honourary members of the admin team. (I need a few minutes - ).

So, now I've dried my eyes, it's time to get on with the official first post.

I have updated you on the changes in my office but now it is time to move on to my observations, and my reasoning for why I am 'The Odd One Out'.

So this week's topic: the bizarre statements they come out with.

My Evidence

I have come across a series of strange and bizarre statements in my time with these women. I present my evidence for your judgement: (I have included the initials of my colleagues for their own amusement)

Does the lump on the back of my neck look big? (SK)

Believe me, I had to keep a straight face for this one because she was deadly serious.

Wedding shoes are expensive but can still be worth every penny. You just dye them black to get 'wear out of them' (KR)

Or you could purchase a cheaper pair of shoes and not have the guilt of the huge cost spent on them & the additional cost incurred to dye them black!

My friend is trying to lose weight. She is on the Pre Heart Op diet! (SK) - yes, someone actually said this to me.

***Speechless with a grin***

I'm going to take a cheeky trip to Wilkinson. Does anyone want anything? (RL)

I'm still trying to work out what a 'cheeky trip' is but it sounds amusing whatever it is.

I just sometimes do not know how to react. It takes me off guard and I have to just think of the first thing that comes to mind. e.g. 'What are you talking about?', 'Are you nuts?' 'Jess is exactly the same!'.

Don't get me wrong, they provide me with 5 day a week amusement but sometimes I am absolutely stunned at the information being portrayed to me. I also sometimes think that because I am the only man in our team that they forget I am pumped full of testosterone and not oestrogen. The things they say to me may fall on deaf ears because I am not a woman and do not have the working of a female brain.

Sometimes this can be a hindrance more than a help but most of time I seem to get away with it and we quickly move on.

Well I will give you a while to digest the last 3 minutes of your life that you have spent reading this blog that you will never get back!

Keep checking in on my blog, I still have plenty more to talk about.

"I AM THE ODD ONE OUT!"

Have I been swanning off round the globe? Have I contracted a horrific flesh eating illness that has prevented me from accessing my computer? Were my hands chopped off by rogue pirates?

Alas, no, dear readers, the reason I haven’t been able to keep you updated on my Wonderful Life of late is that I have simply been too busy spinning too many plates. We’re organising a charity fundraiser, you see: a Ball, in fact, (well, a less starchy affair than most people might envisage when we say ball) to raise funds and awareness for Macmillan Cancer Care Support. So many a sleepless night has been had fretting about how this event is going to pan out with lots of jolting awake at 5am worrying about floor plans and welcome drinks and I’ve been so busy persuading some lovely local businesses to support us that I simply haven’t had time to blog. But we’re just 16 days til D-Day now so I figured I had better let you lovely lot in on it in case you wanted to come along: I’ll be doing a speech and everything (anyone who knows me well knows this is likely to be comedy highlight of the year considering my track record with public speaking)! What will this ball of ours look like I hear you ask, well:

I may have mentioned, once or twice, that my parents have a penchant for rescuing waifs and strays. This week I have received a constant stream of hysterical text messages from my mother. You see, she decided, this time, to rescue a dog from a group of ex pats out in Spain who have been lovingly rescuing and nurturing some very sad cases of animal cruelty and neglect. This dog hadn’t been neutered and, despite only being a baby herself, had gotten caught out and ended up with a litter of mouths to feed. My Mum took pity on this little being and decided she should come and live with us.

Bonita – means “pretty little one” in Spanish.

Text message received after Bonita’s first night in her new home:

She’s following me everywhere like a lamb. Poppy [my dog] hates her. She has chased the cats out of the house and won’t let them back in the garden. She won’t listen when I tell her to stop

Text message returned:

She doesn’t speak English, what do you expect?

Text message to Mum the next day:

How are you today, much sleep? Still hysterical and a silly English woman getting between a dog and her toys?

Reply:

No. Yes. She’s been on the roof.

My response:

HAHAHAHAHA. You mean the house roof don’t you? How did she get there?

Reply:

Yes. Landing window was open.

Text message back:

Senorita Bonita thinks she can fly. Nuhnuhnuhnunnuh BAT DOG!

That evening, to calm my Mum’s hysterics about having this loony puppy that doesn’t speak English climbing on the roof, we went out for a walk. Surprisingly, the expected arch enemy, Poppy, actually rather likes bat dog now and they walk along side by side like the best of friends.

 However, our nice, peaceful walk was interrupted when they both tried to give chase to a pair of wild bunnies lolloping merrily across the golf course. And then.

SQUIRREL

SQUIRREL.SQUIRREL.SQUIRREL.

Turns out our little Spanish one is quite fond of a squirrel. Sees them everywhere in fact. If you have ever seen the film UP you will understand what I mean when I say that she is every inch Dug the Dog.

 I have also been obliged to point out that it’s very much a “dogs and their owners” thing as she displays “squirrel” tendencies on occasion: breaking off midway through a conversation and interjecting with an entirely unrelated topic. Anyone who has read my post “My Boyfriend Has Renamed Me Jim” will understand exactly what I’m talking about here.

SQUIRREL

There, undoubtedly, will be more to follow on the adventures of the dog that doesn’t speak English so stay tuned, lovely readers :)

Once again, lovely readers, I have a fantastic blog guest for you! I interviewed Dan Clews to give you all an insight into the artist before he performs at the New to This Solar System event next Friday.  Dan is donating his time and his musical talent to help raise funds for Breast Cancer Care at the Sevenoaks Music Festival event. For anyone that wants to see Dan (or any of my other New to This Solar System guests) in action; I’ve been told there are still tickets available.

Dan tells me that his day job, fortunately, largely revolves around: playing music, teaching music and recording music. He also mentions that he sells the odd Christmas tree [I, for one, will be asking him more about this on the night]. Dan has always been surrounded by music as his father is also a musician and he tells me it was a natural progression for him to follow that path too. When I ask if he has any other creative outlets, Dan tells me that he has a huge interest in music videos.

Q. Thanks so much for taking the time to answer my questions, Dan! So, tell us, who are your musical inspirations?

A. Paul Simon, Lou Reed, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan did I mention Paul Simon?

Q. What is your mission as an artist?

A. To play music that makes people feel like they’re not alone.

Q. Have you had any set backs in getting where you wanted to be?

A. Always, it’s not for the faint hearted, but I love what I do.

Q. Is there anyone in particular that inspires you or gives you great advice to get where you want to be?

A. My wife and my son – always.

Q.  Are there any especially memorable gigs you have played?

A. I’ve done Local & Live in Tunbridge Wells and I also played on the Arctic Circle once.

Q. Have you played at any particularly outstanding venues?

A. Definitely: playing at the Hammersmith Apollo and the Shepherd’s Bush Empire were real highlights for me.

Q. I’m sure my readers would love to know about someone amazing you have performed with?

A. I recently played a duet with Tim Minchin in front on 5,500 people! That was pretty amazing!

Q. Do you have any future developments my readers might like to know about?

A. Well, there’s the Secret Garden Party on the 21^st of July, Local and Live 2012 on the 25^th of August, Over The Moon Festival on the 16^th of September. Plus, as of recently, people can also find me on iTunes!!

Q. How did you end up involved in New to This Solar System and fundraising for Breast Cancer Care?

A. I believe Cancer is personal to everyone: I don’t know any adult that’s not been affected by it in some way. I met Steph at one of my gigs and we got chatting about her events. I’ve lived in Sevenoaks most of my life

Thanks, again, Dan for taking the time to answer my questions: I’m sure my readers are now all looking forward to seeing you in action at New to This Solar System on the 6^th July – and so am I!

The nature of the English Language is such that it is very easy to interpret multiple meanings in something that has been said. There is a broad generalisation applied to women that they always choose the most offensive meaning to a gentleman’s words. In order to prolong the existence of the human race I have compiled a list of things men say that prove no value for their own lives.

1.       “You shouldn’t eat cake for breakfast, you know” she will inevitably jump to the immediate conclusion that you are inferring that she is, in fact, a little more than “festively plump”. You will also be asked if you are in fact the CAKE POLICE. Gents, don’t attempt to be a wise guy here, step away from the bomb and tell her no, you are not the cake police and you have no place attempting to perform such a role. Following this scenario you may also find on your way around the supermarket that she is inclined to, VERY LOUDLY, point out all of the products labelled breakfast cake bar or breakfast biscuit. SHAME ON YOU.

Other variants of this you’re secretly saying I’m fat are:

“Should you be eating that at this time of day?”

“Do you know what’s in that?”

“Oh...You’re hungry today aren’t you?”

2.       “You look like you’ve had a bit of a lazy day” as any comment about a woman’s appearance that doesn’t sound something along the lines of her being the most beautiful and radiant creature that you will ever see (note: don’t say have ever seen, this may also lead to conflict as she may presume you are hoping to find out if she is actually the most beautiful creature that ever walked the earth) is likely to lead to a very miserable and painful death by ear bleeding.  A lady may presume that you are saying she may frighten children and old people with her appearance: what’s wrong with going out bare faced and in lounge wear? HMMMM? HHMMMMMMM!!??? DANGER ALERT

3.       The inevitably disastrous: “Oh, is it that time of the month then?” Erm, Uh oh, BIG TROUBLE – she may be bleeding without any say in the matter – when you start bleeding she’ll have had plenty of say in the matter. Do. Not. Ever. EVER. Mention a ladies menstrual cycle. Not unless you really and truly have.a.death.wish.

Best Possible outcomes of these scenarios:

1.       Death :

 She kills you quickly and pretty much painlessly in a fit of pure rage.

2.       Serious sleep deprivation and ear bleeding:

She asks you EVERY single time she leaves the house if you think what she is wearing is acceptable enough to you – she is especially keen to hear your expert opinion when you are asleep.

3.       Malnourishment:

You manage to fend off starvation when she goes on strike by living on the food she puts down for the cats/dogs/birds.

Ladies and Gents please do feel free to add any faux pas' or apt punishments in the comment box below; that's what it's there for!

Once again, thanks for reading :)

You know that feeling, you’ve been back living under your parent’s roof for longer than you all would like to admit and you parents are starting to give you the oh so subtle nudge towards the door. If you’re having difficulty picking up on their signals I have kindly listed below the signs that your parent s think you should fly the coop:

1.       Your Mum asks you repeatedly when you will be moving in with your BF/GF

2.       Your Dad persistently complains about how your red hair dye (insert other rage inducing messes caused by you here if this is not applicable) staining the tiles in the bathroom. You say you won’t stop dyeing your hair...there’s a significant pause while he waits for you to catch the drift...

3.       Your Dad starts referring to your beau’s place as your home e.g. “You can take that with you when you go home”...time to go then I think

4.       Your dog is getting cranky living with two other blind dogs; you comment that she would prefer to be an only dog, your parents cannot agree more. Pause. Silence. Penny drops.

5.       They tell you repeatedly how they can’t get over just how quiet the house is when you’re not in it. And how they are really enjoying the peace and quiet.

6.       The dog starts trying to tell you something Lassie style: “What’s that girl? What are you trying to tell me? Go...Home?” Oh.

7.       Your Mum has forgotten about your dietary requirements since you last ate with them. She poisons you. Hint. Hint.

8.       A whispered conversation between your parents ceases when you enter the room. You have caught snippets of a “swatches” and “paint charts” debate. They already decorated every other room of the house. Just yours then.

9.       Leaflets suggesting you engage the services of “first class” local removal services keep mysteriously appearing under your bedroom door.

10.   Your stuff starts migrating out of your bedroom. Into boxes. Into the hallway. Down the stairs. Out the front door. MOVING DAY.

And if you are more of a visual learner I have included below a video of a current advert that illustrates many of the above points nicely.

[youtube=f7qMGVH8]

As I may have mentioned before my boyfriend has a penchant for staring at another man’s lycra clad behind. Last weekend, like many other weekends was rudely interrupted by the pair of them spending Sunday at a cycling event. Do hold your “where’s the harm in that? What an unreasonable girlfriend” until I’ve explained my issue with this. My main concern is not that I don’t get to see him or that I’m concerned by the love of a man’s lycra clad bottom: no I’m more concerned with the fact that this morning I was roused from a rather lovely Saturday night – don’t have to be up in the morning snooze. At six. A.M. Yes that’s correct: SIX A.M on a SUNDAY. For those of you that know me well you will understand what this means. I am a snarly, fire breathing dragon when awoken from my beauty sleep. His cycling buddy made the error of saying something about my looking less than impressed to be awake. I believe my mumbled “good morning” (social niceties, pah!) quite possibly came out more like the guttural snarl one would expect from a very.Hacked. Off. animal.

I didn’t run off to my own bed for further slumber though dear readers because what I saw next had to be observed until the bitter end. Two lycra clad men (I think they think they are ninjas/power rangers) both scratching their heads and detaching various parts of bike turning them every which direction and both trying to be the most expert “NO, I’ve done this before you know, I know what I’m doing”. Nothing like a bit of a Chuckle Brothers re-enactment to make loss of sleep bearable: “to me…to you” between the boot and the back seat, I was desperately hoping one would let go and fall flat on their lycra clad behind.  Eventually they were off after a good deal of pushing and shoving.

So now, would you like to play guess the number of puncture readers?

Q. So, how did you get started in writing?

A. My Dad was passionate about both reading and writing. My Dad was writing and trying to get published while I was growing up. I was working at Thames Television on The Bill as a production assistant. I went and enquired as to what I would need to do to be able to become a producer and the answer I received was “you need to write”. It wasn’t instant success as my first book was never published. I wrote a children’s book that went horribly wrong when it came to being published but was a fantastic learning experience: it was all part of the process of becoming a writer. Sometimes I feel that my best writing almost happens in spite of me rather than because of me. Eventually an agent asked if I would like to meet: so I went and bought myself a hat. I met the agent and then – I took my hat off – and started to write. I usually start with an idea of what the story is going to be and see where it takes me: I like the characters to tell me where they would like to go. I realise I speak about them as if they have their own life which comes across a bit odd.

Q. So what does Susan Lewis like to read?

A. Jodi Picoult, Susan Harwich. I’ll happily purchase a book by what I’ve read in the blurb. My thoughts about the kindle is that you don’t get that same experience: you can’t see a cover or who the author is so I have been known to read something and not know who it is I’ve been reading!  I’ve taken inspiration from the Poisonwood Bible and Sweet Francais. The latter was actually the inspiration for my novel The French Affair.

Q. So how did your family react to your memoirs?

A.  Well, the two main characters – my Mum and Dad- had already passed by then but my brother has chosen not read it at all. I think he would really feel the loss at the end of Just One More Day.

Q. In the second of your memoirs you have written from the male perspective – how hard was this for you?

A. I was fortunate that I got to know my Dad for a lot longer. As Dad wrote so much, an awful lot of what is in the book he really wrote himself: I just adapted it to fit into my writing. Dad did his best to keep us all together at a time when men would have fielded children out to aunts and grandparents. Writing from his perspective made me relive everything that I had put my dad through after Mum died: He really didn’t know what to do with such a hellish teenage girl. In fact, when I asked Steph to read it I actually said “I hope you still like me after reading it”. I am now a supporter of Winston’s Wish as they help support in times of child bereavement: who knows how things would have turned out if they had been around when I lost Mum.

When a member of the audience introduces themselves as a member of Sevenoaks writing group Susan very affably offers to “come along to your writers group sometime, for a chat, if you would like?” She then goes on to display how down to earth she is by saying that as she had gotten older she doesn’t hold ideas and details in her head like she used to. She tells us how she ran a competition on Face book for the winner to get their name used as a character’s name in one of her texts. Susan tells us how she had completely forgotten about this until the winner contacted her: there had been a vital component of the novel missing until this woman got in touch and then her character led the novel along. Susan explains how writing, for her, is much like being a sort of medium as she is taken over by the characters. When Susan wrote in her mother’s “voice” she felt as though her mother had taken hold of her fingers and had written those parts herself.

Steph then gave Susan a much earned break by announcing the start of the raffle and auction. There were some truly outstanding prizes on offer including a Jimmy Choo handbag donated by the author herself, a Chamilia bracelet with a B.C.C charm, a basket of goodies from Maisy K, A photo shoot with Catherine Hill Photography, a set of GHD straighteners and a voucher for a cut and blow dry with Matthew Cross, a one hour full body massage in the comfort of the winner’s own home, a mini car donated by Mini, a Pink Pandora Bracelet and an Amber Necklace. Overall this event raised approximately £3000 for Breast Cancer Care: a hugely successful event – congratulations to all involved!

Susan’s 28th novel No Child of Mine will be released on July 5th.

I have created a Lego Monster, dear readers. This is only made worse by the realisation that my blog category “Lego” and “Addictions” is only getting bigger by the day. As those of you who have read “My Boyfriend is Addicted to Lego Shopping” will know, his new found obsession with Lego started off as a well meaning attempt to put some of the child like sparkle back into Christmas for him. Unfortunately I didn’t really foresee the long term effects of this: not only have I caused my twenty six year old boyfriend to regress back to playing with Lego, but I’ve caused his twenty three and twenty one year old brothers to go the same way. Now I wish to make it clear that I never intended for the two of them to be similarly affected.

Last night, following the incident of the Altercation with the Dustbin, the boyfriend kindly picked me up from work and presented me with a carrier bag full of lovely posh chocolate. My immediate response was to proclaim this to be a reward for being ridiculous and I should continue driving my car as if it were a bumper car at the funfair. Shortly after this I surmised it was in fact a (very well aimed) ruse. A deflection if you will, from what the three had been up to all day. I knew there had been some talk about going shopping while I was at work and visiting the Lego Shop (a.k.a Mecca – not to be confused with Meccano which, apparently, is “TOTALLY different from Legos, duh”).

The three, grown men, had gone and whiled away the hours at the Lego shop. They managed to frighten away any child that so much as glanced at their coveted treasures and, after maiming several children, left the shop with six different Lego sets between them. Yes, SIX. My boyfriend had desired one of these sets for quite some time (having researched all the other possible sets he could add to his ever expanding Lego Collection: “But I am just getting next month’s Lego allowance early”?!?!) and had chosen the biggest one they had in the store: “NO, there are other bigger ones….”

My Dad pointed out to me earlier that it would actually be fairly easy to maintain order in a relationship where my partner had regressed so far as all I needed to do was threaten to take his toys away if he didn’t do as he was told. This was especially appropriate as I had already done this the previous evening when the conversation steered back towards the incident of the Altercation with the Dustbin and I threatened to take away and hide a vital component of his new Lego if he persisted. His response: “Oh no! Don’t take away the battery pack!” Sorry did you just say “battery pack”? Apparently his amazing super duper wow new Lego has a battery pack included: “It doesn’t drive or anything but the windows and doors open”.

As I sighed and looked around for a sane person in the room I found that all had gone silent. It was, in fact, the quietest the house had ever been when they were all in before which seemed eerie. Then I realised that the silence was that perfect silence of concentration. The boys were all sat on the floor with little piles of different coloured Lego all around them trying to construct theirs the fastest.

What have I done?