Le Lac Du Salagou

Me and Jo taking one of several plunges

After 8 glorious days in the south of France, we head back to London this morning sur le train via Montpelier and Paris. It has been 'unusually' scorching here this week, according to my friend Dobs - whose house and cat we have been sitting while he is away in Bolivia for the summer. The pic is from our 3rd day at Lac du Salagou, the largest body of water in the L'Herault region of Languedoc-Roussillon. Created by a huge man-made dam, this freshwater Lake provided some extremely enjoyable and welcome relief from the parching heat (mid to high 30°s C we estimate). More pix to follow at Flickr as soon as I have the chance. Happy Summer times. And during the week when continuous rain and subsequent flooding seem to have washed over the British Isles in our absence. Good timing, Non?!

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaauwah!"

his name is prince .. the ONE and only!

Anna got us Prince tickets! That's tickets to see his holy purpleness, right here in our own backyard (well mine anyway) in East London - the defunct Millennium Dome, now O2 arena.

Although I used to go to Prince conventions and once spent an obscene amount of cash on an unofficial 1,000 limited edition CD (no I won't say how much, but a heinous wad), I am nevertheless ashamed/ embarrassed to admit to being too young/ naive/ provincial/ uncommitted to trek up to see Prince in London as a teenager during the 80s, in his heyday.

What I would do in retrospect to have seen the LoveSexy tour. Ho hum. I did make up for it in the early Nineties by seeing the Diamonds and Pearls tour three times over two weeks; first with Miles at Earls Court, London (do you still have that diamond scar on your forearm Miles? You remember, the one that appeared, mysteriously, during the gig? Divine intervention, you claimed? Not connected in anyway to falling off your chair in a drunken - oops I mean purple - haze .. onto the chain-smoking girl in front of us?!). The second time at Maine Rd (Manchester City F.C.'s former stadium) in Rusholme, Manchester with Miles and Nina. Miles for some reason I can't remember had a ticket at a different entrance. We felt awful leaving him to fend for himself for 6 hours as we headed to our separate queues .. none of us wanting to lose the possible advantage of our early arrival and earliest entrance into the stadium and the best possible seats in the house. We needn't have bothered. Miles' entrance got him into the front enclosure where he was practically licking the sweat off of Prince's (errr, I mean Diamond and Pearls') buns! And, although I almost forgot the third time - how could I?! The memory of sprinting across the hallowed turf at Wembley with Tom, Mum and Anna (and hundreds of others) to get the best possible spot our 6hr wait (again) afforded us! So, this feels a lot more civilised - seats allocated and everything.

One question however - Miles, why on earth aren't going? Anna says she's got 7 tix - the numbers aren't adding up??? Missing our 10yr reunion with the SMF?

STATUS

"Nick cannot believe his 'prayers' seem to have been answered so quickly"

A week ago on Thursday, I had a catch-up/ heart-to-heart with my physio boss, about my job. I'm loving it I say, conscious of the importance to demonstrate my enthusiasm (genuine, by the way), yet wary about not seeming too happy to be 'coasting' within my comfort zone. I love my rehab role on so many levels; the clients, the autonomy, the team dynamic, the exercise, the opportunity to ease myself into the world of NHS Physio. However, it couldn't last forever. I am under utilising many of the skills I have acquired as a graduate physio - not because I am coasting, but because my role does not allow me to use these skills. K said as much. It was a shock to the system (Cr*p! I have to find a 'proper' job!); however she only verbalised what had been gnawing away at the back of my mind. So, after the weekend Nick heads to Facebook; his "status" bar is empty, so he casually taps in "Nick is ... in need of a fully fledged Physio Job".

And what do you know, I get a call two days later to inform me I have been offered my first, full rotational NHS physio job! Spooky. Is there a god of facebook, who has heard my prayers? Is facebook god?! Enough of such blasphemy. Time to reflect on the reality of having my first salaried job in 4 1/2 years .. restricted freedoms, holiday rostas and, c'mon let's be positive, a crack at what sounds to me (from what my physio colleagues are saying) like a really cracking opportunity.