adore amy

here comes the rain again…

Apologies for the slight lapse, but it’s been something of a frenetic week!

In addition to a steady stream of eager gentleman callers from all corners of the globe, I have taken the bull by the horns and not only attended a long overdue eye test for some new spectacles (those who have witnessed me squinting myopically and stumbling Magoo-like around the room when I am without corrective eyewear will know exactly how vital a move this was) but have also finally upgraded my work phone; those who were aware of the previous appliance’s now terminal decline (and especially those who have been inconvenienced as a result) will be pleased to hear that a shiny new BlackBerry Curve has been procured and set up, Call Blocker Pro installed* and the initial horror of slowly realising that the latest operating system has inexplicably dumped my very favourite beeping noise (prompting a slightly panicky and tearful dash around the horribly addictive CrackBerry forums in search of Notifier_Cricket) has been abated when a download was located and installed. For those who (like me) were fond of the old handset, it is now proudly housing the Adultwork SIM, a role which fortunately does not require it even to be switched on.

Having, like others, replaced dancing on the grave of the NOTW with a growing sense of horrified wonder and disbelief over the past few days at just how far the whole debacle seems to have gone (not to mention enduring envy at Rebekah Brooks’ hair, which has remained fabulous throughout), there is little to do comment-wise bar wait and count the rolling heads. I would point out to the gentleman who saw fit to email me out of the blue for no reason other than to ‘correct’ my supposedly inaccurate use of the term ‘hacking’, that he is sadly wrong – the term ‘tapping’ would apply only if actual telephone calls had been intercepted and eavesdropped on whilst they were taking place. Accessing somebody else’s voicemail (or email, bank account, I could go on) without their knowledge or permission, using a password obtained by unscrupulous means is very much hacking – I do agree I could possibly have used the more specific term ‘voicemail’ instead of ‘phone’, but fortunately everybody else seems to have been able to follow my meaning. I trust this clears things up, and hope you manage to find a constructive hobby soon.

The week has been a little frantic as mentioned already, although leisurely interludes were to be had with intrepid visitors from afar, as well as my recently stepped-up fitness regime and preparations for my forthcoming awaydays – Oxford is first on the list next Monday and Tuesday, and whilst availability is gradually ebbing away there are appointments to spare (just). Cambridge and That London to follow shortly afterwards – both filling up fast, as is this week; two appointments left on Friday and that’s it! I have also seen an upturn in outcalls lest I found an opportunity to rest on my laurels – I have visited Hull, Beverley and York in the last five days alone and this has corresponded nicely with the almost-constant pouring rain, giving me ample opportunity to test drive not only my lovely Prada rain mac but my rather posh frilly Austin Reed umbrella, which I purchased during a trip away with a gentleman a couple of years ago and have never quite dared to unfold in Scarborough because of the wind.

This would have been about it for this week (book now for tour appointments, no same day blah blah), but since in (literally) the last half-hour I have for the first time had occasion to actually remove someone from my premises following a deeply unpleasant near-miss, I would also remind potential visitors once again of the importance of reading a lady’s advertising before booking, if for no reason than to avoid similar scenes. And if you don’t have time to do that, don’t turn up half-cut and reeking of stale alcohol in the middle of the day expecting a proper service and make offensive and patronising remarks when this is refused, accuse her of being the police and then laugh at her when you are categorically told to leave after several attempts of politely requesting that you do so – in fact, don’t laugh at me at all if you wish to hang onto your scrotum. To all punters who think this sort of thing is an occupational hazard and doesn’t matter, bear in mind that you could have been the person who called yesterday fancying an afternoon appointment today, and was turned down.

Phew. And on with the circus! Fewer clowns for preference, please.*if you have ever telephoned me and been drunk, explicit, rude or otherwise twattish or demonstrated a complete lack of knowledge of my appearance/fees/services/location (or more likely my name) coupled with an unwillingness to find out about same from the comprehensive information provided or attempted to contact me at a ridiculous time of night, and now find that you are mysteriously being sent straight to voicemail every time you try, Call Blocker Pro is why. Of course you won’t ever discover this since I know you won’t be reading, particularly as there are no titty pics on this page.

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