Robyn’s Nest

A “friend” has just skimmed through my holiday piccies on Facebook and made the strangest of assumptions. He thinks that because I went on holiday with three other girls, and because our holiday snaps don’t show us sucking the faces off some Spanish bullfighters, that I must be on the turn. In other words, he thinks I might be a lesbian.

I am a little offended. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian, if that’s your thang, but women don’t have the right plumbing for my sexual tastes.

Who are us single girls supposed to go on holiday with anyway? Our parents? I think not. And me and my girl pals have all reached a certain age where pulling random strangers on hollibops isn’t very cool. Therefore our holiday photos show four girl mates having a jolly good time, without the aid of the male species. Yes, I know, shocking isn’t it. But it can be done.

This “friend” - a male in his 40s - also makes reference to me “blow jobbing” a bottle in my Facebook profile pic. Sorry to disappoint, but I was simply taking a swig of Corona. Maybe this guy needs glasses!

Well folks, it’s been a busy couple of weeks. Week one was spent in sunny Spain with three girl pals, generally doing what girls do on holiday - not much. We all worked very hard on our tans, didn’t drink too much booze amazingly (so no hangovers, yay!), ate scrummy food and basically chilled out without the guilty feeling you get at home because you should be doing a million other things. I also read four books.

The entertainment on hols was provided by my good mate LJ. She’s very fair skinned and has an amazing ability to burn in the strangest of places when exposed to sunlight. It doesn’t matter how well she applies the suncream, she’ll always end up with a random red patch (or five!) and then soon after her skin will start to peel off. Not only that, when her skin is exposed to the cold and wet, ie a swimming pool, she gets a rash akin to the sort you get when you’ve rolled in stinging nettles. Odd.

Not content with amusing us with her strange skin, LJ somehow managed to develop an ear abscess while we were away. The poor mite couldn’t sleep she was in so much pain so we called the Spanish doc out who fixed her up with antibiotics and an injection in her butt cheeks. I’m not sure he was joking when he said we could watch him stick the needle in for 30 euros each!

After winding LJ up that her ear might explode on the flight home (she was actually quite worried about this and we did little to alleviate her fears) she went to the UK docs to get the pain nipped in the bud good and proper. But UK doc said she didn’t have an ear abscess at all and that the pain was actually caused by…..wait for it….chewing hard food! What!? Honestly, she’d hardly been munching on rocks for the past couple of weeks and she certainly hadn’t consumed anything out of the ordinary. Apparently she’ll be in pain for a couple more weeks but it should go away if she stops eating bricks. I think she should get a second opinion.

Anyway, week two has been spent moving house. Stress city! This means I now live in a fab apartment which I can barely afford but has sweeping views over a lake so it feels like I’m on holiday every time I look out the window. But it also means I’m skint, I ache from head to toe after shifting boxes, moving wardrobes, building furniture and buying plant pots.

I’ve also developed an addiction to tea, thanks to my mum. She drinks a mug of tea every 10 minutes (with skimmed milk, yuk!!) and now I’m following suit. Mum made her way back to the shire this morning after almost three days of sharing my house-move agony and has instructed me not to move ever again. This is my sixth or seventh move I think and mum’s had enough. Particularly after our Ikea trip and the fact the table I’d just bought wouldn’t fit in the damn car. Had to call a taxi in the end, a big one, and put up with the funny looks from passers-by who knew I’d made a bit of  boob.

Couldn’t have done without mum’s help though, and she’s much more patient than me. I have a short fuse which is reduced by half when I’m stressed and I end up snapping at thos closest too me. Soz mum. Bet she’s glad to be back in the shire for a bit of a rest.

So, here I am in my tidy new flat with just a few million more change of address phone calls to make and my flaming CIPR tutorial to go to tomorrow, boo.

Aggghhh and Max just died in Hollyoaks (the TV’s on in the background and I just got distracted.) Gotta go and wipe my tears now, so sad.

I’m going on hollibops next week and I can’t bloomin’ wait. As soon as the clock strikes 4.30pm I’ll officially be on holiday and by Tuesday morning I’ll be sunning myself on the Costa Del Sol with three chums.

I’ve been to Spain pretty much every year since I was 18 and spent a lot of time there as a kid too. We’ll be taking up residence, as always, in a little coastal resort called Eviria, just outside Marbella. Spain is great and here’s why I keep returning:

• How cool is the whole siesta thing? I love nothing more than spending a day by the pool (not the beach as sand sticks to places it shouldn’t) and then retiring to the apartment for a late afternoon/early evening snooze before the night time entertainment begins. Siestas rule!
• The food is yum. The Spanish don’t mix their flavours like us English folk and simple is best. Seabass cooked in salt with boiled potatoes and green beans. Yum. And they know how to cook a steak rare. I like my fillet practically mooing and the Spanish never fail to deliver.
• The lifeguard is a hottie. Hoolio from the Poolio gives us girls something pretty to look at while we sunbathe. Tanned, toned and topless! Please excuse me while I wipe dribble from my mouth.
• The bar at the top of the road sells the best frozen strawberry daquiris ever and it’s not far to stumble home.
• The word rapido (rapeedo) means faster in Spanish and we always tell the taxi drivers to go rapido. Don’t know why, it’s just funny.
• Nikki Beach. Now, while incredibly over-priced, it’s worth going at least once while on hollibops. We usually go on a Sunday and make a day of it. This includes a long lunch just off the beach with plenty of wine, probably a fashion show and three very fit female dancers shaking their stuff on the tables while men drool. As the day goes on the music gets louder and the beat gets faster and we move onto mojitos. We admire all the designer sunglasses, play the “are her boobs fake or real” game and chuckle at the men wearing inappropriately tiny speedos. And there’s always one! The evening usually ends at 11pm when Nikki Beach closes and we stagger home along the beach. This will take twice as long as normal as we’ll be walking in zigzags and it’ll be dark. Note to self: when falling over on the beach, remember to close mouth.
• Puerto Banus. The place is lovely and used to be great for a night out. It’s too expensive these days but a good place to people watch, admire sports cars and big boats and maybe spot the odd celeb. It used to be a lively yet classy place but in latter years the chavs have started to move in. I’ve seen a few too many pairs of white stilletoes for my liking so a trip to Banus will either be for a classy dinner in a posh frock or a lunch and mooch round the shops, rather than a mad night out.
• Pot Noodles. I would never eat a Pot Noodle usually, it’s crappy food, but we tuck into them a lot on hols. Dunno why really, it’s just easy daytime food. We also love chocolate brioche, mini pickles and weaners - our typical holiday diet.
• Long dinners. The Spanish don’t hurry their diners out after just an hour; once seated you’re there for the evening and I love taking my time over courses and engaging in adult conversation over a glass or two of vino.

So, let the holiday fun begin. Uno cerveza por favore!

Ever feel like you’ve got so much going on inside your tiny little mind that it might just explode? Well, that’s the way I’m feeling at the moment.

I’m a creature of habit and survive by meeting deadlines, having regular slots for regular activities and writing numerous “to do” lists. But frantic fever has set in and there is so much to be done.

• Holiday. While this should be a time of relaxation I have to find time to pack, wax and fish out my passport before I jet off to sunnier climes on Tuesday morning. And will I be able to go a week without checking my email? Probably not.
• Moving house. I’ve spent the past week lugging boxes from one place to another (why didn’t I choose a ground floor flat?!) and that’s just the half of it. My current flat replicates a modern-day bomb site as I attempt to pack things into boxes, shift furniture etc. It also means I need to notify various organisations of my soon-to-be change of address and spend hours on hold to BT in an attempt to get my phone line connected. And then there’s the actual big move which happens the day after I get back off hols. Stressed and tired is a bad combination. There’s also new stuff to find out - what day is bin day, which one is my allocated parking space, can my neighbours hear my loud music, is my landlord a nice guy, how long will it be until I get make-up on the bright white carpet?
• Dreaded diploma. Two nasty assignments coming up, both of which will require time and brain power. And I’m distinctly lacking in both. And I’ve just agreed to a PR research project which will no doubt require more of my time. Doh! Am also way behind on my PR reading and reluctant to read Planning and Managing PR Campaigns while sunning myself in Spain. Would much prefer the latest Jonathan Kellerman thriller.
• Netball. Recently got back into it after a year off and loving it. However, I’ve sneakily been training with two teams and the time has come to choose the one I want to play for. Do I choose the team I initially agreed to play for? Their fees are cheaper, they’re a less serious team but they haven’t trained much so I’ve not bonded with them. Or do I choose the other team? Their fees are double but the players are more my age and I’ve bonded with them during summer training. Eek. Dilemma. Need to make a decision soon and feel guilty that I can’t say yes to both.
• Work. Got loads on at the mo and feel my two week holiday is slap bang in the middle of what will be a manic time. Bad timing! I have lots of reading I want to catch up on and just don’t get round to it. I also feel I’ve lost my sense of what’s happening in the news. My last job involved me sitting at my desk every morning with a cup of tea and a copy of the Daily Mail. I don’t like reading news online, it’s not the same as flicking through a tabloid, so the only proper news I get is provided by the Radio 1 bulletins to and from work. Not good. Must get back into newspaper habit as current affairs is a big part of my job and I need to know what’s going on in the world. And that doesn’t mean the latest Big Brother task!
• Money. An overlap in rent and investments in new things for my new flat means I’m going to be skint for a while. Add to that the fact I need money for my holiday next week and I’m quite generous with my spending, it’s going to be a struggle to cut back. Might have to hide my credit and debit cards.

So, with so much going on at the moment I have made some drastic decisions. Cut down on alcohol consumption (apart from holidays and events) and spend more time reading. Get up earlier and read the paper over breakfast instead of my usual shower, dress, dash out the door routine. Focus on work and CIPR assignments as failure will mean doing them again and avoid any kind of dating/interaction with attractive males as this only leads to disappointment and misery. Going out less will also save on money and I do not need to buy any new clothes, shoes or bags until the autumn. Partying less and playing netball more should keep my BMI on the right side of 24 and I’m considering cycling into work. Sounds pretty boring doesn’t it! We’ll see how long it lasts.

My pal Mandy text me yesterday excitedly reporting that she’d invested in the shampoo and conditioner we’ll be taking on holiday in two weeks and three days’ time.

Why is this so exciting I hear you ask? Well, it’s not really, it’s just a little ritual we have each year. We share toiletries in a bid to keep luggage light and where Mandy is reponsible for hair products and toothpaste I will pack shower gel, hair straighteners and after sun.

It’s ironic really that we methodically plan to reduce the number of beauty productcs we pack, in a bid to keep luggaage within the allowed limit - 20kgs or sometimes even a measly 15kgs. Because, as hard as we might try not to, we always pack seven pairs of shoes when we’ll only wear two, out of six party outfits we’ll only wear three and only two of our four handbags will make it out of the suitcase.

Every year we promise to pack light. Every year we fail. Every year we nervously queue at the airport check-in and have a competition to see whose bag weighs in the heaviest. And who will cop for charges for the excess.

Not this year though, I am determined. What do I really need to pack? Day time is for bikini and flip flops, a couple of nights out require a couple of party outfits, a trip to the beach restaurant requires another outfit and the rest of the time, I’m sad to say, will be spent in my pyjamas or “slobs” as we call them.

My problem is I’m a bit lazy. Rather than take the time to co-ordinate outfits and pack shoes etc that match, I throw eveything into my suitcase “just in case”. I also invest in new bottles of sun cream every hols too, leaving me with a small shop’s worth of half-used products. This year, in attempt to be a bit more money-savvy, I’m not buying new stuff when the old stuff will do. I don’t need new flips flops, I don’t need new vest tops and I don’t need a new beach bag. So there.

So, here’s to my forthcoming hollibops and not straining my back when I lug my suitcase from the boot of the car!

One of my chums has given me a bit of a ribbing because I started my sunbed campaign this week, as I do every summer, in a bid to be a bronzed beauty on the beach.

I’ve started early (holiday is in five weeks) because it’s safer to build your tan slowly and that’s why I hit the tanning towers little and often. My quest for colour isn’t all about vanity though, it’s also a safe way to avoid sunburn when I step out on foreign shores. I do tan well once the base tan has developed but if my skin hasn’t seen sunlight for the best part of a year (which is likely to happen in this country) then I will burn baby burn. And burning is bad.

I refuse to stay out of the sun on hols, that’s the main reason I go abroad and bikinis just don’t look as good when you’re milk bottle white or lobster red. And I feel it’s better to tan slowly over time using UK sunbeds than risk a roasting on the Costa Del Sol. That’s my justification and I’m sticking to it.

However, today I am a tad on the pink side and an ickle bit itchy. And I know the reason, so it’s my own fault. You’re not supposed to use sunbeds when you’re lathered in body lotions and potions because they make your skin more sensitive. I am an avid user of the God of all moisturisers - E45 cream- and this is no problem.

But last night I indulged in a full body hot stones massage and mini facial which meant me leaving the salon looking like I’d tripped over an oil slick. I was coated in all kinds of massage oils and creams and the sunbeds didn’t take kindly to it - or rather my skin hasn’t.

Anyway, it won’t deter my bid to be tantastic this summer, it’s just another lesson learned.

I don’t know what it is about holidays, but I always feel motivated to sort my life out a bit when I get back. Tomorrow I head to France for a week and already I feel that the fresh mountain air will be enough to blow away the cobwebs and inject a bit of enthusiasm into Robyn’s World.

I’m looking forward to putting the following into action in March:

• Start volleyball training again, as ankle should be back to normal, and also go to korfball on Monday nights with the girls from work.
• Run (at least three times a week) to the newly opened Tesco Express store on my estate to pick up a morning newspaper - a 10 minute injection of exercise, fresh air and chance to catch up with the rest of the world.
• Use the medicine ball which is sitting on the floor at home. It’s not going to help me tone up unless I actually use it.
• Use my lunch hour to catch up on reading - CIPR reading list/PR Week and Media Guardian. I will become a font of all media and public relations knowledge.
• Eat better. The last few weeks have seen me shovel all sorts of edible evils into my mouth. It’s time to stock up on the fruit and veggies.
• Take a packed lunch to work. The cafeteria is costing me a small fortune.
• Make a list of all the unwanted things in my flat (two TVs for starters) and try and shift them on the work intranet site.
• Book my next holidays - it’s always good to have some guaranteed sunshine to look forward to. In the meantime I need to ditch the pasty look and get busy with the fake tan.
• Be more efficient at work and try and establish a proper routine.
• Make plenty of time to go dancing with the girlies and catch up with buddies back in the Shire

Today I  booked my annual ski holiday and I’m well excited! Blue skies, beautiful views, heaps of snow, fresh air and yummy French fodder. Can’t wait.

But crikey, organising it was a chore and a half - too much choice, too many websites, too many phone calls, not enough flights and so many conflicting consumer reviews. How the hell do you know if you’ve got a good deal? Well, it can’t be as bad as Andorra two years ago - limited hot water, skanky apartment, a bed that squeaked when you wiggled your little finger and a nightclub practically underneath your pillow. Still had a fab time though.

Anyhoo, it’s booked now. Three girls, the open slopes, a few French beers and a lot of giggles. I can’t wait to tackle what I call “extreme blues”. Find a blue run, go off piste and there’s so much fun to be had - flying through the air over jumps, skiing in snow up to your knees and getting a bit scared when you’re fast running out of slope and forget to stop.

Of course, this can be done off piste on the black runs too but insurance companies don’t recommend it!

PS The picture is of me, yes, doing some crazy off piste stuff in Germany last year. Can you guess how I landed? Not sure my knee has been the same since.

The atmosphere in work is great today ‘cos everyone knows that when they clock off at 3pm, Christmas begins.

This is a new feeling for me, having had to work over the Christmas period every year since leaving college. And, quite frankly, it sucked. There really is no joy in returning to work the day after Boxing Day knowing that friends and family are still tucked up in bed and will spend the day scoffing chocs, watching nice films and catching up with mates and rellies.

Returning to the office - to put together a newspaper that no one will read - kinda kills the Christmas spirit for me. But this year is different. I have a new job with a company that celebrates Christmas by giving staff time off. And boy am I gonna make the most of it. This is the most festive I’ve felt in ages!

The weekend will be spent catching up with family - divorced parents means two lots of visits - and the obligatory visit to see nan (who is slowly losing her marbles and thinks I’ve been seconded to Milton Keynes on a special assignment. And she’ll no doubt ask me 20 times: “So dear, have you found yourself a young man yet?”)

Sunday will be my day, spent pottering at home, playing Christmas tunes, catching up with chores and cooking up a festive feast for Jen and Lisa who will accompany me to Morocco on Christmas Eve. Whoo hoo! We’ll tuck into tasty fodder, open gifts, watch Santa Claus the Movie and check we’ve packed our passports.

Yes, that’s right folks, I’m making the most of the Christmas break by jetting off to sunnier shores and kicking back for some proper r&r. What better way to end the year?

Merry Christmas to you all, ho ho ho!