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f1 · 2 years

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Thank God they ignored me says Hamilton

Having finished the Spanish Grand Prix in fifth, Lewis Hamilton admits his team was right to ignore his suggestion that he retire his car following Magnussen clash. Having touched in Turn 4, Hamilton and Magnussen were both forced to pit. Rejoining the race at the back of the field the Briton subsequently suggested to his team that they "save the engine" by allowing him to retire. However, his call was ignored, his team telling him that a possible eighth-place finish was possible. As it turned out, the seven-time world champion worked his way up to fourth, only to be told in the final laps that a "critical" cooling issue meant he had to slow even if it meant losing track position. Passed by Carlos Sainz, Hamilton was able to hold on to fifth, and at race end admitted that his team was right to ignore his earlier request. "I was thirty seconds behind," said the Mercedes driver, "so I thought if I am going to use a whole engine to drive around in last or out of the Top 15 and at some point take a penalty we may as well save the engine so we can live to fight another day. "Thank God we didn't," he laughed, "that is why we never stop, we never give up and that's what I did. "I was hoping for a smoother race without the issue at the beginning," he continued. "Having seen what it was like back in Jeddah where I started 15th and struggled to get into the Top 10, I was thinking it was impossible to get back into the points. "But they said no I was on for eighth... I couldn't understand it and thought they were being super optimistic. But I thought let's give it everything and see where I come out." "At the end his race pace was stunning," said Toto Wolff, referring to the fact that in the latter stages of the race, before his cooling issue appeared, he was the fastest man on track. "He would have raced for the win," added the Austrian. "This is a great sign that we're going in the right direction," said Hamilton when asked if he now feels he has a race winning car. "I have no doubt at some stage we can win because today, if I hadn't had that, I'd have been fighting with the Red Bulls. So that gives me great hope that at some stage we'll be fighting for the win. "I'm happy that we didn't retire Lewis as that was the most valuable race for us to compare the two cars, to compare set-ups, and tyres," said Wolff. "It's always the call when you've basically lost the race, to decide, what's the benefit of continuing. From a driver's perspective you're like, 'that can't be possible, I'm 50 seconds behind the leaders'. But it's still valuable mileage, we are never giving up anyway." Check out our Sunday gallery from Barcelona, here. via Pitpass - the latest hottest F1 news http://www.pitpass.com/

#F1 #Thank God they ignored me #says Hamilton #Formula 1

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shirtgate · 2 years

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coming to you with some oscar posting shenanigans friend!! he is indeed friendshaped i want to pick him up like a cat. he reminds me of a cat often kind of like lando that very calm almost perpetually tired aura. i think it would be very therapeutic to me if i could cuddle him. big spoon or little spoon it doesn’t matter to me just like card your fingers through his hair. i might stop there or i won’t be able to stop , he’s just so nice and soft but also v capable of being a bastard n i just love that about him

hi sweetheart !! umu sorry i came to this a bit late,, wanted to save it for when i wasnt in a rush to do anything so i could really take time to break this lovely ask down ^^ quiwte long bc i got a bit EXCITED heehehee isa's pure unfiltered oscar agenda down below

he is indeed friendshaped i want to pick him up like a cat. he reminds me of a cat often kind of like lando that very calm almost perpetually tired aura.

i fully agree with you on this baby . oh my god . i have two cats and yes he does act like them . like he would totally act like he hates me 99% of the time but i'd still yearn for that crumb of affection. so obsessed with oscat piastri . imagine his prema engineers pulling him out of his car by the scruff of his neck . obsessed i am

i think it would be very therapeutic to me if i could cuddle him. big spoon or little spoon it doesn’t matter to me just like card your fingers through his hair.

listen baby,, the way i would give aNYTHING to cuddle this boy . he looks so soft esp when he naps like please . nap on me ill cradle you to sleep .! his hair does look so soft too like,, i wanna touch ., so sofnt, and same idc if big spoon or lil spoon just wawnna hold him close to my chest . i wanna feed him strawberries . GAWd i want him to complain about everything and ill listen to him and validate him because i just adore him

i might stop there or i won’t be able to stop , he’s just so nice and soft but also v capable of being a bastard n i just love that about him

totally i get u ,,, i just wanna make grabby hands at him . i wanna bury my face in his alpeen sweaters . i would give him everything he asks of me!! and yes i agree about him being capable of being a bastard LMAO HIM BEING LIKE,, i was too careful >:/ i wont be careful anymore >:) and that can lead to him either winning in a very insane way or ~kinda accidentally taking people out oops srry meow >:( either way he is so interesting and wonderful i just love him . anon i htink we need a group hug with oscar

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idk if this answer was anywhere near decipherable this is just what my brain does when oscar >:3 yeah ... not to mention i see him more as a beautiful admirable platonic bestie crush n my desires r usually very in line with that . but when those pics of him on the podium in jeddah (?) i think,, those ones where he was so flushed and his mouth was parted and you just know he knew he was the best,, oh my god that made me want to kiss the living daylights out of him . i wanted to dip him n kiss him right then n there . i would hold his hand . i wld carry the whole world for him . omygodomgyodgmdgl

anyways thank u for indulging me anon,, so many hugs to u <3 u r very cute ily

#oscarposting #anon answered #wasfasfk!!!!!kasdfkjkjdf!!!! <3 #ILY ANON #oscar lovebot club <3 on shirtgate dot tumblr dot com #kisses to u anon <3

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asrarblog · 5 years

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Dear Colleagues! This is Pharma Veterans Blog Post #232. Pharma Veterans shares the wealth of knowledge and wisdom of Veterans for the benefit of Pharma Community. Pharma Veterans Blog is published by Asrar Qureshi on WordPress, the top blog site. If you wish to share your stories, ideas and thoughts, please email to [email protected] for publishing your contributions here.

This is a special series of Blogs which describe my time and experiences during Hajj this year.

DAY 1 – 21 July 2019

Departure, Arrival, and First Umrah

PIA staff had repeatedly emphasized to reach airport six hours before flight time. My flight PK759 was scheduled to depart at 9.20am on July 21. I reached airport around 3.30am and it was eerily quiet. The security staff said that the airline staff usually comes 4.5 – 5 hours before the flight time. I went to the airport mosque and waited for Fajr prayer which was still about 45 minutes away.

Anyway, when I came back to the airport entrance at about 5.00am, a fairly long queue was already in process. I also joined its tail-end, and finally got into the airport hall. First check point is Customs and next is Anti Narcotic Force (ANF). Having passed through these, had to get the baggage plastic wrapped. The wrapping service was free of charge; you only had to get your passport number entered at a counter. Next was to get a sticker for the baggage which had the person’s information printed on it. This sticker was to be pasted on the baggage to be booked. Then came to check in counter and got boarding pass. Next is to pass through immigration counter and get the exit stamp on the passport. All done, we got into the departure lounge.

There was another step here. A counter was distributing a plastic wrist band which had a QR code with person’s information embedded in it. It is mandatory to wear this band at all times; being plastic, it does not get damaged by water. Please understand that this is for your safety and comfort. Along with passport and ticket, the Haji camp had also given a plastic card which had the picture of pilgrim, Maktab number, Building number in Makkah and Madinah. This card came with a string and instructions to wear at all times. I can assure you that if you follow these measures, you will never get lost, InShaAllah. If you don’t, you may end up in big trouble.

I had changed into Ihram before leaving home. Most people had come to airport in celebratory clothes and were happily loitering around in the departure lounge.

We still had about three hours to go before the flight. Meanwhile, an officer of Hajj Mission came in. He took up the microphone and started talking to the happy pilgrims. I don’t know his name, but the gentleman used to be on stage in both training programs.

His talk had two important points.

One. He requested the pilgrims to change into Ihram at the airport. While it is nice to change at the Meeqat, but the Meeqat comes about 45 minutes before landing at Jeddah. The plane has a few tiny toilets and it would be impossible that couple of hundred people could change into Ihram in the flight. After his repeated urging, people finally realized and started changing into Ihram. I would like to compliment him that he saved the crowd from a big chaos.

Two. He said that we shall be taken to Madinah Munawarah within 48 hours of our reaching Makkah Mukarramah. He said we were a lucky group as we would be able to perform another Umrah upon returning from Madinah Munawarah.

The scenario in the departure lounge changed quickly. People donning white Ihrams were looking beautiful.

The restrictions of Ihram start after reciting the ‘niyat’ of Ihram. Immediately after ‘niyat’, the pilgrims start reciting ‘Talbiah’; men loudly and women inaudibly.

“Labbaik, Allahumma Labbaik; Labbaik a La Shareek a Lak a Labbaik; Inn al Hamd a, Wan Nemat a Lak a Wal Mulk; La Shareek a Lak”

We flew dot on time from Lahore airport. When we reached Meeqat, it was announced, and everyone recited the Ihram niyat. Immediately after, the entire plane resonated with the sound of Talbiyah. The pilgrims recited loudly and in unison and it presented such a deep effect which touched the souls. Some pilgrims broke into tears while reciting and it enhanced the effect. It was truly a deeply affecting and inspiring time.

Lahore to Jeddah takes about five hours. We reached Jeddah airport on time. Immigration was done so fast I could not believe. In about thirty minutes, we were out. We collected our baggage and immediately handed to the service people who would carry it to our residence in Aziziya, Makkah Mukarramah. The way was paved with Pakistani Hajj Support staff who guided and facilitated at every step. Some youngsters from mobile companies were running with us. One of them did my biometry and gave me a Mobily SIM, free of charge.

I must say that the arrangements were very efficient and organized; better than what I expected. Prayers for all those who worked hard to facilitate the pilgrims.

Thanks to comfortable handling, we were fresh when we reached our residence in Aziziya. We were ready to perform Umrah.

Our residence in Aziziya was about 8 km from Haram Shareef. We were told that the transport shall be available 24 hours to take us to Haram Shareef.

After settling a little in the rooms, everyone prepared to go to Haram Shareef in order to perform Umrah of ‘Hajj e Tamattau’.

Hajj, as you know, may be performed in three ways.

One is Hajj e Ifrad; literally meaning ‘single/individual’. Only Hajj is performed; there is no Umrah and no sacrifice. Hajj e Ifrad is usually performed by local expats.

The second is Hajj e Tamattau, literally meaning ‘getting benefit’. Umrah is performed before Hajj, and the sacrifice is mandatory. The pilgrims reach Makkah in Ihram, perform Umrah and then come out of Ihram. They again wear Ihram for Hajj and then perform all Manasiks, offer sacrifice, shave heads and relieve themselves from Ihram. This is the common type of Hajj performed by pilgrims coming from other countries.

The third is Hajj e Qiran, literally meaning ‘joining/combining’. Pilgrims wear Ihram, perform Umrah, but continue to be in Ihram. They perform Hajj in the same continuity and then finally get out of Ihram after Hajj, sacrifice and head shaving. Hajj e Qiran is usually opted for by people living nearby.

Pilgrims from Pakistan are slated for Hajj e Tamattau. And so, we got ready to go to Haram Shareef for performing Umrah.

As mentioned earlier, the transport arrangement to Haram Shareef and back was available 24 hours and was excellent. And it was free of charge.

After a little while, I also got ready to go to Haram Shareef. We were five people staying in the room. All came from Lahore. Two of them had come for the first time. They asked me to perform Umrah together. I said, of course, it would be my utmost pleasure. We shall go together InShaAllah.

A little before Isha prayer, we reached Haram Shareef; and prayed Isha. Then we started Tawaf. Although there was a sizeable crowd, but we were able to perform Tawaf within Mataf. Prayed two Raka’at Wajib-ul-Tawaf.

We then moved to Safa to start Sae’e. Completed seven rounds between Safa and Marwa.

By midnight, we had completed Umrah. We came out of Haram, got haircut and went back to our building.

All Praise be to Allah. No amount of gratitude is befitting for His Kindness and Benevolence. In a span of only one day, we started from Lahore, reached Jeddah, reached Makkah Mukarramah, and also performed Umrah. What more could we desire? What better could we aspire for? Allah’s Blessings are beyond measure and beyond our humanly limited imagination and desires.

Call it Baitullah Shareef, or Haram Shareef, or Ka’aba tul Musharrafah; it is unique. Nor is there anything equivalent to it. It is one, and the only one. The feeling you get here is hard to express adequately and fully; it is to be seen and felt. If you have had the blessing to be here, you would understand what I am trying to say and cannot. If you have not, I earnestly pray that Allah brings you here. Aameen.

You can never see enough of Baitullah Shareef; neither will you ever tire of being here. Tawaf is an extremely enriching, submitting and deep experience. If you are doing Tawaf with feeling, you will never like to stop. Allah is all-knowing and probably for this reason, Allah has ordained seven rounds for Tawaf. If the number was not fixed, many people would probably lose their lives doing unending Tawaf. There is no doubt that you fall in love here; with the Baitullah Shareef and the Tawaf.

Continued……

A Common Man’s Hajj – Day to Day Recount of Hajj 2019 – Asrar Qureshi – Part 4

A Common Man’s Hajj – Day to Day Recount of Hajj 2019 – Asrar Qureshi – Part 4 Dear Colleagues! This is Pharma Veterans Blog Post #232. Pharma Veterans shares the wealth of knowledge and wisdom of Veterans for the benefit of Pharma Community.

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claresmyllie · 6 years

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A flight to remember

I managed to bag some absolute bargain return flights to Kerala, India, with Saudi airlines. The only downside? 5 hours in Riyadh each way. Definitely doable. After I booked them my colleague who used to live in Saudi Arabia told me I was a fool to book with Saudi Airlines and that if I’d told him beforehand, he would’ve stopped me. In the coming months I was to learn the true meaning of his words. They cancelled my flight an excruciating three times and I spent what felt like half my life on the phone to Expedia booking new ones. I ended up with 8 hours in Riyadh on the journey there and a whopping 15 hours in Jeddah on the way back. And all spent in the airport, as it is virtually impossible to get a visa to leave it. Totally worth the couple of hundred quid saved, right? Well, minus the £55 spent on the airport lounge in Riyadh (I didn’t even bother with Jeddah – it’s expensive and has terrible reviews). And all my meals in Jeddah airport. And the Saudi appropriate loose trousers I bought. Oh, and the treats I bought myself at Heathrow airport to cheer myself up about the journey I was about to embark on. But hey, you can’t put a price on adventure.

Every time I visit Mansi (my friend who is basically the reason I first came to India all those years ago) she asks me to bring her latest craving which is hard to come by in India. This time it was 12 packets of pork scratchings. As I was packing them the night before, it suddenly occurred to me that this could well be a terrible idea. I Googled ‘pork’ and ‘Saudi Arabia’ and learned that it is illegal to bring pork into the country. I could be okay so long as I didn’t have to re-check in my luggage, but it was a risk. Everyone I messaged who has been to Saudi strongly advised against it. In the end I hid one bag in my luggage and hoped for the best.

I had yet another reason to stress when I was checking in and was informed by the lady at Saudi Airlines that the outfit (t-shirt and trousers) I had carefully curated for Riyadh airport was not appropriate. I shoved a jumper into my hand luggage and looked forward to facing the 40 degree heat in it.

So finally I was on the flight and off on my adventure. The journey just so happened to coincide with the England-Croatia world cup semi-final, but fortunately Saudi airlines provide free wi-fi, for whatsapp only, so my friends very kindly kept me updated on the score (and my plan to sleep through the flight to get straight onto Indian time went straight out the window). The only problem was finding someone to share the suspense with. I had spied three other English (well, white) people board the flight but didn’t know where they were sitting. In the end I settled for telling the lovely Yemanese guy sat next to me. He didn’t care. I updated him anyway. I think my absolute trauma at us losing was quite shocking for him.

Riyadh airport lounge was very pleasant – comfortable seats, nice food, aircon (was still bloody hot in my jumper). I pushed two chairs together and prepared for a nap, after chatting to the two charming Saudi women in the seats next to me, who had a flight to California in a few hours. I awoke to find the women had been replaced by a man who was staring unashamedly at me. I was soon to learn that people here were very curious about me, which I began to understand when I realized that, from what I could tell, I was the only white person in the airport. As I mentioned, it is next to impossible to get a tourist visa for Saudi due to their terrorist paranoia. Several people struck up conversations with me and asked many questions. I could see it in everyone’s eyes, “why are you here?” At least I didn’t get caught for the pork scratchings.

Unlike my first flight, the flight from Riyadh to Kochi was jam packed, as apparently Malayalees (the ethnic group of Kerala) make up a significant proportion of Saudi migrant workers. And suddenly I had arrived, 20 hours after setting off, Mansi beaming at me at the arrival gate. India I have missed you.

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trishbsblog · 7 years

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It is never too late to be what you might have been ̴ George Eliot Reasons for and against giving up the glitzy, glamorous world of flying: Pros: 1. No more cleaning up other people’s sick. 2. No more 2 a.m. wake-up calls, jet lag, swollen feet/ stomach or shrivelled-up skin. 3. No more tedious questions like, ‘What’s that lake/ mountain down there?’ and ‘Does the mile high club really exist?’ 4. No more serving kippers and poached eggs at 4 a.m. to passengers with dog-breath and smelly socks. 5. No more risk of dying from deep vein thrombosis, malaria or yellow fever. 6. No more battles with passengers who insist that their flat-pack gazebo will fit into the overhead locker. 7. No more wearing a permanent smile and a name badge. 8. No danger of bumping into ex-boyfriend and his latest ‘I’m-Debbie-come-fly-me’. Cons: 1. No more fake Prada, Louis Vuitton or Gucci. 2. No more lazing by the pool in winter. 3. No more ten-hour retail therapy sessions in shopping malls the size of a small island — and getting paid for it. 4. No more posh hotel freebies (toiletries, slippers, fluffy bathrobes etc.). 5. Holidays (if any) now to be taken in Costa del Cheapo, as opposed to Barbados or Bora Bora. 6. No more horse riding around the pyramids, imagining I’m a desert queen. 7. No more ice skating in Central Park, imagining I’m Ali MacGraw in Love Story. 8. Having to swap my riverside apartment for a shoebox, and my Mazda convertible for a pushbike. ‘Cabin crew, ten minutes to landing. Ten minutes, please,’ comes the captain’s olive-oil-smooth voice over the intercom. This is it. No going back. I’m past the point of no return. The galley curtain swishes open — it’s showtime! I switch on my full-beam smile and enter upstage left, pushing my trolley for the very last time ... ‘Anyheadsetsanyrubbishlandingcard? Anyheadsetsanyrubbishlandingcard? ...’ Have I taken leave of my senses? The notion of an actress living in a garret, sacrificing everything for the sake of her art, seemed so romantic when I gaily handed in my notice three months ago, but now I’m not so sure … Be positive! Just think, a couple of years from now, you could be sipping coffee with Phil and Holly on the This Morning sofa … Yes, Phil, the rumours are true … I have been asked to appear on Strictly Come Dancing. God only knows how I’ll fit it around my filming commitments though. Who are you kidding? A couple of years from now, the only place you’ll be appearing is the job centre, playing Woman On Income Support. This follow-your-dreams stuff is all very well when you’re in your twenties, or thirties even, but I’m a forty-year-old woman with no rich husband (or any husband for that matter) to bail me out if it all goes pear-shaped. Just as everyone around me is having a loft extension or a late baby, I’m downsizing my whole lifestyle to enter a profession that boasts a ninety-two percent unemployment rate. Why in God’s name, in this wobbly economic climate, am I putting myself through all this angst and upheaval, when I could be pushing my trolley until I’m sixty, then retire comfortably on an ample pension and one free flight a year? Something happened, out of the blue, that catapulted me from my ordered, happy-go-lucky existence and forced me down a different road … ‘It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m confused,’ Nigel had said. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, almost choking on my Marmite soldier. ‘What’s brought this on? Have you met someone else?’ ‘No-ho!’ he spluttered, averting my gaze, handsome face flushed. ‘But you always said we were so perfect together …’ ‘That’s exactly why we have to split. It’s too bloody perfect.’ ‘What? Don’t talk nonsense …’ ‘I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s like I’ve pushed a self-destruct button and there’s no going back.’ ‘Self-destruct button? What are you talking about? Darling, you’re not well. Perhaps you should get some help …’ ‘Look, don’t make this harder for me than it already is. It’s time for us both to move on. And please don’t cry, Em,’ he groaned, eyes looking heavenward. ‘You know how I hate it when you cry.’ I grovelled, begged him not to go, vowing I’d find myself a nine-to-five job so we could have more together time, swearing that I would never again talk during Match of the Day — anything as long as he stayed with me. Firmly removing my hands from around his neck and straightening his epaulettes, he glanced at his watch, swigged the dregs of his espresso, and said blankly, ‘Good Lord, is that the time? I’ve got to check in in an hour. We’ll talk more when I get back from LA.’ ‘NO!’ I wailed. ‘You know very well that I’ll be in Jeddah by then. We’ve got to talk about this now. Nigel … Nigel …!’ For three days I sat huddled on the sofa in semi-darkness, clutching the Minnie Mouse he’d bought me on our first trip to Disneyland, as if she were a life raft. I played Gabrielle’s ‘You Used to Love Me’ over and over. I wondered if Gabrielle’s boyfriend had dumped her without warning, leaving her heartbroken and bewildered, and the pain of it all had inspired her. If only I had a talent for song writing, but I don’t, so I channelled my pain into demolishing a family-sized tin of Celebrations chocolates instead. Cue Wendy, my best friend, my angel on earth. We formed an instant friendship on our cabin crew training course. This was cemented when she saved me from drowning during a ditching drill. (I’d stupidly lied on the application form, assuming that it didn’t really matter if I couldn’t swim, because if I were ever unfortunate enough to crash-land in the sea, there would surely be enough lifejackets to go round.) ‘Look, hon, this has got to stop,’ she said in an uncharacteristically stern tone, a look of frustration on her porcelain, freckled face. (As a redhead, Wendy has been religiously applying sunscreen since she first set foot on Middle Eastern soil as a junior hostess twenty years ago; whereas I would roast myself like a pig on a spit in my quest to look like a Californian beach babe.) ‘Okay, so it’s not a crime to scrub the toilet with his toothbrush, but who knows where that could lead? You’ve got to stop playing the victim before we have a Fatal-Attraction scenario on our hands.’ ‘Eight years, eight years of my life spent waiting for him to pop the question, and now he’s moving out to “find himself”. I think I’m entitled to be a little upset, Wendy.’ Prising Minnie out of my hands and hurling her against the wall, she straightened my shoulders and looked deep into my puffy eyes. ‘I promise you that, in time, you will see you’re better off without that moody, selfish, arrogant …’ ‘I know you never thought he was right for me, but there is another side to him,’ I said defensively. ‘He can be the most caring and sweet man in the world when he wants to — and I can’t bear the thought that we won’t grow old together,’ I sobbed, running my damp sleeve across my stinging cheeks. ‘Come on now; take off that bobbly old cardie. I’m running you a Molton Brown bath, and you’re going to wash your hair, put on your uniform and high heels, slap on some make-up and your best air hostess smile, d’you hear?’ she said, pulling back the curtains. ‘And while you’re in Jeddah, I want you to seriously think about where you go from here.’ ‘But I want to be home when Nigel …’ ‘You always said you didn’t want to be pushing a trolley in your forties, and how you wished you’d had a go at acting. Well, maybe this is a sign,’ she said gently, tucking a strand of greasy hair behind my ear. ‘It’s high time you did something for you. You’ve spent far too long fitting in with what Nigel wants.’ ‘It’s too late to be chasing dreams,’ I sniffed, shielding my eyes from the watery sunlight. ‘And anyway, I just want things to go back to how they were. Where did I go wrong, Wendy? I should have made more effort. After all, he’s a good-looking guy, and every time he goes to work there are gorgeous women half my age fluttering their eyelashes at him, falling at his feet. He can take his pick — and maybe he did,’ I whimpered, another torrent of tears splashing onto my saggy, grey jogging bottoms. ‘Get this down you.’ Wendy sighed, shoving a mug of steaming tea into my hands as she frogmarched me into the bathroom. ‘And don’t you dare call him!’ she yelled through the door. Perhaps she was right; she usually was. She may be a big kid at heart, but when the chips are down, Wendy is the one you’d want on your flight if you were struck by lightning or appendicitis at thirty-two thousand feet. For the last year or so, hadn’t I likened myself to an aeroplane in a holding pattern, waiting until I was clear to land? Waiting for Nigel to call, waiting for Nigel to come home, waiting for Nigel to propose, waiting until Nigel felt ready to start a family? Yes, deep down I knew she was right, but I was scared of being on my own. Did this make me a love addict? If so, could I be cured? Jeddah, Saudi Arabia ‘Hayyaa’ala-s-salah, hayya ’ala-l-falah …’ came the haunting call from the mosque across the square, summoning worshippers to evening prayer. It was almost time to meet up with the crew to mosey around the souk — again. Too hot to sunbathe, room service menu exhausted, library book finished, alcohol forbidden, and no decent telly (only heavily edited re-runs of The Good Life, where Tom goes to kiss Barbara, and next minute it cuts to Margo shooing a goat off her herbaceous border), the gold market had become the highlight of my day. Donning my abaya (a little black number that is a must-have for ladies in this part of the world), I scrutinised myself in the full-length mirror. No wonder Nigel was leaving me; far from looking like a mysterious, exotic, desert queen, full of eastern promise, it made me resemble a walking bin liner. I read the fire evacuation drill on the back of the door and checked my mobile for the umpteenth time, then cast my eyes downwards, studying my toes. I know, I thought, giving them a wee wiggle, I’ll paint my nails. It’s amazing what a coat of Blue Ice lacquer can do to make a girl feel a little more glamorous, and less like Ugly Betty’s granny. As I rummaged in my crew bag for my nail varnish, there, stuffed in between Hello! and Procedures To Be Followed in the Event of a Hijack, was an old copy of The Stage (with another DO NOT PHONE HIM!! Post-it note stuck to it). Idly flicking through the pages, my eyes lit up at the headline: DREAMS REALLY CAN COME TRUE. Former computer programmer, Kevin Wilcox, 40, went for broke when he gave up his 50k-a-year job to become a professional opera singer. ‘My advice to anyone contemplating giving up their job to follow their dream, is to go for it,’ said Kevin, taking a break from rehearsals of La Traviata at La Scala. That was my life-changing moment; an affirmation that there were other people out there — perfectly sane people, who were not in the first flush of youth either, but were taking a chance. That’s what I’d do. I’d become an actress, and Nigel would see my name in lights as he walked along Shaftesbury Avenue, or when he sat down to watch Holby City, there I’d be, shooting a doe-eyed look over a green surgical mask. ‘What a fool I was,’ he’d tell his friends ruefully, ‘to have ever let her go.’ Hah! But revenge wasn’t my only motive. Faux designer bags and expensive makeovers were no longer important to me. I wanted the things that money can’t buy: like self-fulfilment, like the buzz you get on opening night, stepping out on stage in front of a live audience. Appearing through the galley curtains, proclaiming that well-rehearsed line, ‘Would you like chicken or beef?’ just wouldn’t do any more. Inspired, I grabbed the telephone pad and pen from the bedside table, and started to scribble furiously. 1. Apply to RADA/CENTRAL any drama school that will have me. 2. Hand in notice. 3. Sign up with temping agencies and find part-time job. 4. Sell flat, shred Visa, store cards, cancel gym membership, and Vogue subscription (ouch!). From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Subject: Audition Dear Emily, Following your recent audition, we of The Academy Drama School are pleased to offer you a place on our one-year, full-time evening course. We look forward to meeting you again at the start of the autumn term, details of which are attached. Sincerely, Edward Tudor-Barnes Principal Whey hey! It was reckless, irresponsible and utterly mad, but I was tired of being sensible or doing things simply to please others. Ever since I’d played the undertaker in a school production of Oliver! I’d wanted to act. Okay, so I may be running twenty-five years late, but now nothing and no one was going to hold me back. * * *

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