‘How difficult can it be to get to the gym at 11am?’ I mused as I lay in bed until 10am. By 10.30am, it was time scramble out the door, pushing all thoughts aside that an intermediary Hatha Yoga class might be too much of a stretch.

Mat and block in hand, I prepared for the class by deep breathing. The teacher arrived, I didn’t recognise the teacher, well I wouldn’t, would I after such lengthy absence. Alarm bells were ringing, this was no bubbly, smiley and forgiving yoga bunny. He was small, muscular and obviously a dancer. The class was packed with similar types, except for me, a good five inches taller and probably five years less spritely. He began demonstrating the moves without the hint of a smile or warmth. I was scared, but hey ho and off we went – until I hit a stop.

‘Try and visualise the space between your genitals and anus’ the teacher said.

I looked up and gulped and then pretended to visualise anything else, and breathing deeply pushed all thoughts of anuses and genitals out of my mind.

Ten minutes into the class, our bodies and faces were contorted. I don’t remember yoga being like this I thought. It was then that I caught the eye of someone else. She gave me a nervous smile that broke into a conspiratorial grin. I had to look away for fearing of collapsing into fit of hysterical giggles with my leg stuck behind my ear.

As the class drew on, I was beginning to wonder if I’d last the full 90 minutes. Muddling through, I knew that the real contortions were yet to come.

‘So put your arm down and bring your leg over your elbow like so. And then lift your body with both hands off the floor.’

We all looked at him, the now despised teacher, open mouthed. There were gasps. There were groans.

‘And next we stretch this way.’ He motioned half heartedly, ‘But I can’t do it to the full extent because I’m injured.’

‘What a cheat!’ I howled internally.

He left the room, and everyone stopped, it was akin to a class of naughty school children. He’d pushed us to the point of rebellion. He returned and everyone resumed their poses, he was none the wiser as we continued to twist and bend and stretch. And then it was time for headstands. I don’t like them so opted out. As did nearly everyone else.

It was time to relax and as we all lay on our mats in the shapes of starfish, I heard a trumpeting sound. Someone had farted rather tunefully in our relaxation zone – the atmosphere was ruined in more ways than one.

I bet it was him, it was after all, the only time I saw him smile.

In this world of abridged classics and dumbed down literature, it takes more than a deep breath to launch into Shakespeare, and an even bigger one for King Lear, especially when it’s an outing for a 10 year old.

We rocked up to The Roundhouse in Camden last Saturday for a three and a half hour performance by the RSC – we were packed full of high anticipation and no idea what to really expect. We’ve seen just about every musical going but had yet to experience Shakespeare, let alone a tragedy.

I’m not ashamed to say I had reserverations. Last time I visited the venue it was for a Grace Jones gig, how on earth were they going to make it worthy of the RSC?

As we arrived, I heard some great gasps of awe, and we hadn’t even gone inside;
‘Mum – this place is amazing!’
‘Oh blimey, we’re not even in there yet.’ I thought.
‘It’s great isn’t it?’ I replied as we waltzed in. I looked around, there were no other kids,
‘Eek!’
‘What?’
‘Let’s get some snacks..’
‘Mum, there aren’t any other kids here?’
‘I know.’
‘That’s cool’
‘I (ahem) know….yes, that’s cool.’

We grabbed what sustenance we could from the bar and went to take our seats. The interior was unrecognisable from my last visit, and if I’m not mistaken, a modernist reconstruction of The Globe. It made the experience even more intense to walk around the periphery of the pop up theatre and find our level, row and seats and, then discover the whole setting. The minimal stage set was intriguing, transluscent clouds of dry ice wafted across the space. We took our seats, rather worryingly in the front row since we were prewarned about gloopy things and water coming into the audience and didn’t have waterproof clothing on. Eerie music played and a bright light shone from the upper reaches of the set through cracked windows. You can hear the sound track on this short clip released by the RSC.

As we waited an actor walked on stage, and seating himself against a wall, he waited too – he was Edgar, the disinherited son of Gloucester. We were quite scared by the atmospheric setting, a good start in my book. The first scene began, courtiers took the stage and then King Lear, on the cusp of his descent into madness, arrived. This was serious heavy theatre with the potential to fall into parody – the challenge of the cast was to hold our attention and draw us in and it didn’t take long.

As Lear began to question the depth of love from his daughters, I began to question my wisdom – was this going to be a little bit too much? The costumes were stunning but would the acting hold up? I’d read a not so flattering review of the production in The Standard, but didn’t take it to heart, but let’s face it, no one likes to see a turkey. Theatre is a big commitment of time and money and a great experience is not always the outcome.

We waited for the characters to unfold the drama, and as Regan and Goneril waxed lyrical, and Cordelia became outcast, the story began to roll out its glorious tragedy against an austere backdrop – I looked to my side to see a little face in thrall to the drama, and much to my amazement, she knew who everyone was… The cast was quite jawdropping, Regan, played by Katie Stephens and seen here with Geoffrey Freshwater as Gloucester, were our two favourites.

Admittedly, as the interval drew near, the flowery and dated language was a little much to bear but the plot was strikingly clear and the players were part and parcel of bring its complexity to life. I was grateful the prose had not been updated, it struck a chord with the both of us and stretched us beyond our usual limits. We had plenty of time to review the players while taking in the quality of acting and the delivery of the lines. While someone beside us fell asleep, the rest of us were rapt. Not only was the cast multicultural, but the costumes veered from Medieval to Second World War regalia, and this played very well into the cross currents of the plot; loyalty, love, legitimacy, war and lunacy, in no particular order. Our imaginations were not just powered by the production but also by its history and how this story has survived for centuries.

When we reprised our seats for the second half, we were both agog. Eyeballs were extracted and sutured, a dynasty destroyed and its future tragically curtailed through dastardly deception. And that is King Lear, the much maligned Shakespearian tragedy that is often consigned to the bottom of the pile when it comes to experiencing The Bard. It was a great experience and I feel that we have seen a production of great note; whatever your age, it’s a great thing to see and it won’t disappoint, or leave you.

On a lighter note, when I pointed out to my daughter the wonderful emerald dress that Cordelia wore in her last scene, I was told in a rather exaggerated stage whisper:

‘She looks like Fiona from Shrek‘

Well, that puts it all into perspective when it comes to high drama doesn’t it!

So the cultural aspiration in our household for 2011 gets a big tick and so does the production. My misgivings about the complexity of the production have been put aside as it’s been a cultural experience that we’ll never forget.

And what’s next? We’re doing a bit pop culture and going to see Gnomeo and Juliet, followed by As You Like it starring David Tennant and Catherine Tate – it’s all in the mix isn’t it?

One thing’s for sure, Shakespeare never dies.

The production moves to Stratford, the New York soon and tickets are available here, it’s unmissable and worth every penny.

I grew up in a very political household. My very Conservative Mother believed that women should earn less than men so in response to the challenge I grew up as an ardent Leftie feminista (replete with designer handbag, shoes and champagne flute). My elder sister though is a dyed in the wool Tory. But she still wears nice shoes (not as nice as mine though).

So how do you explain politics to a 10 year old? Especially when that child is your one and only daughter? It’s quite a passionate topic so I have to admit I’ve found it a bit difficult to stay calm and unemotional. Deciding to rise above it all, I did watch two of the televised debates with my daughter and friends (hers and mine). Not soon into the screenings I had to excuse myself as I became bitter and enraged by the discussion and was on the verge of hurling stuff at the TV. Grrrr.

1997. I was overjoyed when Labour got in, I got in at 5am and rang people singing. The world has definitely moved on however since those heady days of champagne socialism and the shiny new optimistic-modernised-’Brit Pop’-dot com-wonderworld we lived in for a while. So roll on tomorrow. It’s going to be very different from back then.

And today? We’ve been hassled by the hustings left, right and in the middle here in leafy riverside Chiswick and not least of all at the school gate. On the homefront, I’ve had far too many leaflets through my door, including the BNP ones, to find it funny anymore.

I’m not saying it is a waste. I’ve been interested in the whole process and politics has a rich and complex place in my life. If only it were really simple and the decision could be clear cut.

For a 10 year old it appears that is really is. Miniminx has been giving me daily updates of the campaign trail at her junior school. She was a wobbly voter and undecided for a while. Unconvinced by policies, looking to make a decision on who her vote went to by how much she liked them.

She came home yesterday with her mind made up. She has decided that since the LibDems have nothing on offer it’s a two horse race between the Conservatives who are offering Mac Air notebooks and the Greens who are offering wind up laptops.

What happened to Labour is anyone’s guess I suppose.

Sorry for the bad joke but I just couldn’t help repeating it all day long. It’s just a mask for the fact that I’ve been having kittens about being stuck abroad and have had to keep my pecker up for the last few days and make it all seem like fun for my daughter. Actually, scrub that, it’s been an adventure of great magnitude and instead of coming home feeling a bit sad the holiday is over, we’ve both experienced a huge rush of appreciation for all things domestic, friendly and well, just our own doorstep.

Having told the world and his wife that we were delayed and unable to return from our holiday until next Monday, instead of last, things took a drastic turn for the better when the flights to the UK were announced again.

It would be an understatement to say that we’ve been in a state of crazed delirium for the last 24 hours. Having swapped Cote D’azur for a far chiller London W4, it feels brilliant and a bit lunatic.

I don’t know what it is about the human spirit but it has a homing device that propels the heart and mind in tandem towards reaching that destination against all odds, just to be there.

Last night after Miniminx and I had skyped,tweeted, texted and called everyone we possibly could from our French outpost, we found out before going to sleep that the skies over the UK were reopening. I did a celebration dance and downed another glass of wine then spent the night sleeping very badly as my daughter did her usual holiday prank; shrieking with laughter in her sleep throughout the night. It was all good, we could travel and get back home, lack of sleep permitting.

Not to be outdone by the general somnambulent squawking and whimpering, it was my turn to wake up with a fire in my belly at 5.50am and skittle around the room turning lights on and off, before settling at my laptop screen for some airline ticket motivated search action – I was determined to get us home.

As I flicked between tabs and screens and the abundance or search items, the flights were all coming up fully booked, and every few minutes there would be a change, prices would wobble, new airlines would be appearing, it all seemed a bit crazy.

‘Psssssssst, darling, do you want to go home this morning?’
‘Yeszzzzzzzz, but ….Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz I just need sleeeeeeeeeeep. Let’s go later.’

I was tempted to go back to sleep myself but I couldn’t. I was mad awake. Just the thought of being away from home with no good reason for a day longer was driving me a bit loopy. I let her sleep, and kept refreshing the flight screen. Two flights – oh no, gone already. Another one, at £1500. Another £386 with one stopover. Then after another 20 minutes, bingo. The 9.30am flight out of Nice, after the fourteenth try, had availability.

‘Wake up – we’re leaving in … oh quick, in 15 minutes, we have a flight to catch. Brush teeth, get dressed, close suitcase, do a room sweep*’

It was 20 minutes actually, but in that time I had to call reception to prepare the bill, shower, pack (yes for two) and dress and panic, oh and buy the tickets. The merry dance began and within 15 minutes we were out of the room and finalising the hotel bill and leaving, not before drinking a massively strong coffee. Our taxi arrived and I prattled on in French to the driver. It turned out his wife was stuck in Frankfurt, unable to return. Everyone had a story about some loved on somewhere, our waitress at breakfast had a boyfriend stuck in Thailand.

Determination and sheer bloody mindedness are one thing, but navigating the nuances of local traffic are another thing altogether. Needless to say as we lurched through the early morning traffic, 7.45am is never a good time anywhere, there was still a chance we would miss the check in period so it was all a bit touch and go. We arrived at 8.20 and had to go to the ATM to get the cab fare then to the check in desk, we had 8 minutes to spare. We got through the whole process, very smoothly in fact and boarded.

The flight was amazing, we arrived 30 minutes early and got back across town in good time. Arriving home was perfect – the sun was shining and London is full of Spring blooms. We are very very happy to be back.

So home and back to the grindstone it maybe but the simple pleasure of cooking an evening meal and having neighbours pop over to say hello is just the bees knees.

I’d always believed the old adage that travel broadens the mind, but it also emboldens the home loving heart much more than I imagined or remembered.
I wonder how long it will last?

*a room sweep is what I do after packing, moving around the hotel suite with military precision to check cupboards, wardrobes, shelves and drawers and underbeds for anything and everything I might have left lying about

And now it’s my turn to give some of you an early christmas pressie back.

So without further ado, here are the recipients of the goodies, and I only ask that you email me at nixdminx@live.co.uk to organise posting things to you.

Karaoke Golden Ticket

The Lucky Voice Golden Ticket with two hours free singing in this most glamorous of establishments with cocktails and microphones galore goes to: MummyTips

Uh Oh Oh Oh Oh and the song below turns out to be Crazy in Love by Beyonce!

Super Lush Sweet and Dreamy Box

This gorgeous Sweet and Dreamy Lush briar box of rosy dreams and sugar candy baths will be winging it’s way to Sandy Calico.

Festive Fun: Peter Pan tickets

Two tickets to see the Peter Pan show at the 02 from lastminute.com* will be winging their way to Liz a Living with Kids.

The Simple Human Sinky Caddy & Drainer is going to Gotyourhandsfull.

Tickets to SeaLife
And two tickets to Sea Life – take your pick which one you want to go to – are given to The MadHouse

Transformers DVDs
We have four winners of the of Transformers 2 Revenge of The Fallen DVDs and you are:

Amy at and1moremeansfour

Clarebabble at clareybabble

Vic at Glowstars

and finally Insomniac Mummy

Thanks to again for dropping by. And thanks also goes to Lush, lastminute.com, Simple Human, Lucky Voice and Paramount DVD for their generosity.,

*valid for performances Monday to Thursday before December 17 2009

While I’d love to buy a drink for each and every single of the one hundred bloggers heading to the Zoo this Sunday, I don’t think it’s fair on those of you that can’t make it.

How about I make you all some cake? Yes, that photo is me in the kitchen, rustling up something tasty, wonderful and celebratory – but oh, what rotten luck, with our low-tech social networking, you can’t even taste it!

Well fear not, I’ve managed to magic up with a bit of blagging and barefaced cheek blogging goodness some cracking goodies for everyone to have a shot at bagging.

And here they are and they could be yours, just drop me a comment on this post, or a tweet @nixdminx and I’ll pick the winners of these darling goodies by December 10. I’ll be adding a few more over the coming week too, so keep your eyes peeled lovelies x

Karaoke Golden Ticket

I’ve got a Lucky Voice Golden Ticket on offer. That means two hours free singing in this most glamorous of establishments with cocktails and microphones galore!  It’s so much fun, you’ll want to say longer…I ended up staying an extra three hours on my Birthday last year.

If you can work out what this song is below, will you let me know…the lyrics aren’t recognisable but I think we sang it more than once!

Super Lush Sweet and Dreamy Box

This gorgeous Sweet and Dreamy Lush briar box of rosy dreams and sugar candy baths (quite tempted to keep it actually) could be winging it’s way to you ahead of the Christmas Party Season and could help you get over all those dreadful hangovers feel fresh as a winter daisy.

Festive Fun: Peter Pan tickets

This is one hot show this Christmas – I have two tickets to see the Peter Pan show at the 02 from lastminute.com*.  It’s also a little known fact that my birthday falls on the same day that the original book was published (Peter Pan by J M Barrie)

Kitchen Goodies from Simple Human

Thanks to Simple Human for the Sinky Caddy & Drainer – I would hate for you all to be scrubbing pots and pan without some kind of stylish kit…

Tickets to SeaLife

Here’s one to fill the days after Christmas when you simply have to get out of the house, two tickets to Sea Life – take your pick which one you want to go to

Transformers DVDs

Blockbuster movies are always great for rainy days and I know this one is a goodie. I have four, yes four!, DVDs of Transformers 2 Revenge of The Fallen

I really enjoyed the first film, so please let me know what you think of it – but remember it has a 12 rating.

Thanks to Lush, lastminute.com, Simple Human, Lucky Voice and Paramount DVD for their generous offer of prizes – it always helps to keep the readers happy! x

*valid for performances Monday to Thursday before December 17 2009

The theme of these posts is what has really happened, and this little adventure was the one that made the blogosphere a real place with real people.

Contrary to the generaly rule; that bloggers are a sad and lonely nerds, I’ve made a lot friends through blogging and so have loads of us who snatch the odd hour or two to update our blogs. We’re the people that never shut up! Plus, we’re not the usual run of the mill Mums are we? I’m not sure about you but I’m mildly eccentric, quirky and busy as hell so not only do I keep strange hours, I’m out of the loop on competitive-school-gate-mum-syndrome – which means social media suits me just fine and dandy.

Not long after starting out, I discovered the British Mummy Bloggers social network on Ning and signed up.

To me, it was a bit like walking on stage naked, staring into the spotlights and waiting for the howls of laughter. (I’m a sensitive soul really)

It’s not fun being the newbie is it? There’s nothing worse than feeling you are encroaching on a space you have no right to be in – I was quite apprehensive and worried that maybe it would be a negative experience and that I’d be snubbed.

Imagining if I posted anything ‘uncool’ that I would be kicked into touch, I posted a tentative ‘Hello’.

And.

I was pleasantly surprised.
The welcome was a warm and friendly one.

There were quite a few people saying ‘Hello’ back and offering advice on blogging, family, fun in fact anything. I had lots of help when I wanted to move from wordpress to a hosted environment and the gorgeous Violet Posy gave me a blog make over – which I still sport to this day.

Next up was an interesting development, an invitation to meet up for coffee with the BMB ladies…how intriguing, who were these people hiding behind avatars and blogger handles? My curiosity got the better for me and I accepted.

Just one look in the mirror told me I’d become quite the unemployed-slovenly-singlemum-housewife – I had to scrub up…meet real people. I was scared.

I was meeting Potty and A Modern Mother at Starbucks in Paddington. It all seemed very 2.0 and urban, just my thing in fact.

I scuttled in a panic walked into the coffee shop. Nervous as hell and looking for prams. I spotted two ladies and took a chance.

‘Hello, I’m Nixdminx – are you…er, ummm??’

My words hung in the air, my throat dried, I started to feel a bit stupid – I didn’t know their real names!

‘Hi I’m A Modern Mother’ said the lovely Susanna, she was friendly and warm.
‘And Potty’ beamed the other BMBer.

Gulp.
Phew.
It’s them.
Thank God for that!
I liked them both immediately.

We didn’t have long and we chatted over coffees. It was a very brief meeting, but I’m so glad I went.

Behind these blogger handles were three women, real people, real lives. Things were getting interesting, and a bit more real.

At the next get together at the Rainforest Cafe there were loads of us including kids and this week there will be even more as the guest list now stands at 100 – that’s astounding.

Thanks again to Susanna for setting this up – I hope this reaps great rewards for you in the future but I know it has already x

And so, so glad to escape the glass towers where I had worked. Once a bustling enterprise, it was haunted by glum, grey, despondent suits wailing over share prices and school fees. Ironically they had kept their jobs but with a world gone so crazy in the throes of the credit crunch this oxymoron was quite the norm.
They lived in fear.
I was way past that stage.

Okay – I’m glossing over the bad stuff – there were bills to worry about, friends and family frantic about me not working, self doubt etc etc. but I could not allow this to consume me.

And I have to fess up to luxuriating in all this new found free time and being a full time Mum. All the same, I still kept a semblance of busy-ness to give myself a purpose. I wrote. A lot. For some reason, I felt that this would really help me out of this situation and lead somewhere, exactly where, I wasn’t sure but for the time being, it seemed 150% right.

Dropping Miniminx off to school became a leisurely past time rather than a rabid rush. Walking along the river on the way home, I’d start thinking of what to write. Life as a ‘no hoper’ had such rich pickings, and while it filled the yawning gap left by a career on hold, there was never any shortage of ideas.

Back in the tedious mind-numbing and utterly depressing world of jobhunting the jobs evaporated in front of my eyes. I spent hours trawling the web, calling people, meeting headhunters, writing my CV, following up, rewriting my CV, and uploading my CV to sites. But there was nothing out there for me or anyone else.

And then it was February.

I started to contribute to other blogs; London Mums, Mummo, Mumsrock and was a Mychild top blogger- it was really great fun, and I suppose I was of the moment; a vocal and blogging credit crunch casualty but that was just a sideshow. I’m a Mum, with a daughter, and I was able to share that with other Mums and for the first time felt I was able to discuss Motherhood and feel the empathy.

Then, I found out about a Carnival. I wasn’t quite sure what a Carnival really was – I’m an ex Notting Hill girl so to me it means one thing – a three day bender and a week to recover. But I soon learned it was much more civilised and a round up of blog posts with links to the stories and name checks. This one was to appear on AlphaMummy – the top site for Mums. I was in awe.

I submitted an article.

Well, actually I didn’t, I drafted the email.
Then had a coffee and thought it over.

‘Would it be such a good idea?’ I asked myself. ‘What if anyone reads it?’

I left the email in draft and felt a bit flustered.

‘What have you got to lose?’ I said to myself. ‘Hmmm, um, nothing?’

I pressed send.

Then I dashed upstairs and hid under my bedcovers. I’m serious, I did!

‘What the bloody hell have I done?’ I was cringing.

Gawping at myself in the mirror before heading out the door to pick Miniminx up from school, I splashed my face with coldwater and told myself;

‘Get a grip, it won’t even make it anyway – who’d be interested in me?’

And when I checked AlphaMummy a few days later, it was on there…I had made my first carnival!

It meant a lot and inspired me to keep on going.
For all my bluster, I’d still taken quite a knock and this helped me rise above it.

I began to love carnivals and continued submitting to them, even creating my own Credit Crunchista Carnivale which proved to be quite possibly a bit too tongue in cheek popular (thankfully!).

That’s when I started to really enjoy the whole thing with a passion.

And come to think of it, I never actually stopped working really, did I?

More to follow…

Incredibly, this story I am writing is post number 149 which means over the last year I’ve probably written around 75,000 words here. That combined with the other writing on sites and blogs I do probably amounts to around 120,00 words – no mean feat when you look at it. But it’s my no means been a difficult challenge, it’s been a total blast and has helped me get to grips with more than just how to click ‘publish’.

So back to where it all began. Facing a particularly difficult situation; no job come January, a Christmas without my daughter and and the end of my work contract wind down, the months appeared before me like an abyss. It was hard not to feel alienated and a social outcast. Even if I wasn’t one, I felt it. It was no suprise I succumbed to an awful attack of the flu. That Friday, the fever was so bad that I was unable to leave the house for three days, and fortunately Miniminx was away for the weekend.

With no choice but to live online while snivelling and bedridden, I just about managed to survive on what was in the house, ordered some online supplies and kept writing. Just a blog post each day, but it was something.

At the end of day three with the tissue box empty and the lemsip packets crumpled, there was a knock on the door and a groaning ghostlike-heap greeted the delivery man. Yes, it was me, and it was at that point I had a revelation.

Nothing was going to be the same again – I’d found a new tool for survival and wasn’t going to give it up.

Blogging might be easy, but getting started is the hardest part. I determined to say anonymous. And by blog name summed up the sense of futility at that time. My high hopes had been nixed and my minxy life crushed. Clown that I am, I set about writing with humour not despair, it took me a while to get it right and it certainly lifted the dark clouds and put the light back behind my eyes.

There is something really unnerving about putting a story out there in this new cyber world they call ‘the cloud’. I imagined my blog posts would be like raindrops falling from this cloud and evaporate before even hitting the ground and, in reality, no one would ever read it.

But they did and hey ho, I got a visitor or two, and thought

‘Oh my god, I wrote a blog post and someone bloody ready it – shit!’

….and then I got a comment, and thought

‘Um, so what happens next? This is quite scary. Who are these people, they have funny bloggy names.’

I had a look around and found other bloggers. Mummies. With beautiful blogs, stickered with awards. I had discovered the Mumosphere, or rather, it has discovered me.

‘Ahem.’ I thought. ‘Well goodness me. I see I’m not alone here.’

I replied to comments, it was like making invisible friends with lovely people. It was a miracle. I was no longer alone at my laptop.

‘Wow. Wahaaay.’

I had a new job.

I had become the accidental Mummy blogger.

Simply put, it’s been an incredulous and fabulous year.

November 29 2008 was the day I clicked ‘publish’ on my first wordpress post. I was amazed I’d even managed to work out how to set up a blog, but compared to what was going on in the world, it was really easy.

I knew from the start of the credit crunch I was heading for a sh*tstorm – working as a contractor for one of the biggest companies in the world, and with a job offer on the table, nothing was set in stone and I became more nervous day by day as the stock markets crashed…an invisible fall out dust was settling across desks, it was suffocating, it was paralysing people, it was as if we were under attack. People mouthed frantically to each other behind the glassed vacuums of ‘private’ offices in a vastly open plan glass space. I took cab rides through the City and the cabbies drove at the suits as if they wanted to mow them down.

This was really shit.

I knew I should look elsewhere and so did everyone else but to no avail. Jobs I went for evaporated, people I knew were sacked by email or text.

I had a ‘war effort’ breakfast with a colleague and by the time we had eaten our scrambled eggs and half drunk our fancy coffee – 40 people were out the door leaving laptops, mobiles, blackberries and thwarted ambition behind.

My Christmas present for 2008 was my P45.

So what?

It’s the frailty of corporate life that makes you question your personal values – who am I without this junk, without this stuff? Who am I without a job, a career, a profession, a hope? Ego no longer plays a part, it’s a great lesson.

So this…

Against all odds, and the backdrop of possibly the worst financial meltdown I’ve seen in my lifetime, I’ve been lucky enough to find a new and exciting way of life that’s helped me to overcome what was initially a hugely daunting prospect.

More to follow…