What does an exhaust do?!

The majority of my blogs seem to be about my car troubles, and I am afraid this one will be no different.

This is probably to do with the fact that, as I have said before, my knowledge of the inner workings of cars is non existent.

I don't think my family were aware of the true extent of my ignorance, until early one Tuesday morning.

There was a problem with the exhaust, which resulted in me sounding like a teenage boy racer cruising around in a souped up car.

In typical Laura fashion I decided to leave it for a few days, when I was free to take it to the nice man at the garage.

However, this backfired, literally, and I was left stranded on the hard shoulder of the M5 after an almighty bang caused me to pull over.

So what does this damsel in distress do in her time of need? Call Daddy, or as he is better known in this blog, the car oracle.

On the phone he asked if the exhaust was scraping along the road.

Now, how many of us actually know what an exhaust does? Surely I am not alone in my complete and utter ignorance?

Walking round to the back of the car I saw that the exhaust sticking out the back was fine, and was nowhere near the road.

On reporting my findings I was greeted by a puzzled silence from the car oracle, who asked me to check again that nothing was hanging down on the road.

He then told me to slowly leave the motorway at the next junction and come home.

So I started off again, with my car making the same horrendous scraping noise, but it wasn't long before cars were flashing me to pull over.

I gave up, and after a second SOS call to the car oracle, he was on his way.

On arrival he knelt down to look under the car, and beckoned me over to see a metal pipe scraping the road.

Apparently this was the exhaust.

Now I am serious when I say this, I had no idea the exhaust runs under the car, from the back to the engine.

To me, cars go. I have no idea how, but they do!

After the car oracle had finished tutting at me in disbelief he tied the offending piece of metal up with string and we headed home at a leisurely 30 miles and hour.

This marked the start of a busy day for SuperMum, who spent her lunch break rushing from work to the garage to pick up my newly fixed car.

She too was in disbelief at my lack of car knowledge, and so was my boyfriend Joe when I recounted my sorry tale to him that night.

So I am off to have lessons in vehicle maintenance from the car oracle, so I will know what to do when the next disaster happens.

I will keep you posted!

Bye bye chocolate

I am always up for a challenge, and have done all sorts of crazy stunts like cage diving to see sharks, and a parachute jump. In comparison my latest challenge may seem easy. However, I think it will be one of the hardest things I have had to do. I, a self confessed chocoholic, have given the sweet treat up for lent.

For 40 long days I will not be allowed a single bite of chocolate. This means no more malteaser bunnies which are my latest obsession. It also means no more hot chocolate in the evenings, and I can wave goodbye to the chocolate cereal bars that help me start the day. It will be hard. I am sure I will start to get withdrawal symptoms, and have the shakes through the lack of chocolaty goodness. But I determined to do it. Mainly to prove people wrong, the people who laughed when I told them what I was doing.

Lent is a Christian tradition seen as a time of sacrifice. People give up a treat for 40 days to show respect for Jesus and to identify with his self deprivation during his 40 days in the wilderness. However many other people give something up to challenge themselves.

I have chosen to give up chocolate to mark lent, and to show that I can make sacrifices. Of course, this will mean changes to my daily routine. The chocolate and nut cereal bars I usually start my day with have been replaced with berry and yoghurt. I thought this would be a hardship, but actually they are quite tasty! In our office we have a lady who comes round with sandwiches, and snacks like crisps and chocolate. It was a struggle to stay sitting in my seat, and not lunge at her with my money. Instead, I had an orange. Didn’t really compare to a galaxy bar, but it’s healthier! My evening cup of hot chocolate will also have to go, to be replaced by either tea or squash. But in the words of Gloria Gaynor I will survive!

By the end of the 40 days I shall hopefully feel healthier, and stronger for sticking to my challenge. And there will be the added bonus of it being Easter. Those chocolate eggs will never have tasted better!

My DIY triumph

 

On Monday night I managed to fix screws in the door of the Sunshine radio studios using a pair of scissors, as I couldn’t find a screwdriver.
This small and pretty insignificant act made me feel unbelievably proud, as I considered it a victory over the DIY mountain I had never conquered.
The fact that I had narrowly escaped injury by diving out of the way of the metal tool box as I pulled it off the top shelf was forgotten.
I was a DIY genius!

To say that the art of Do It Yourself does not come naturally to me is a pretty big understatement.
A big part of DIY is coordination, which I seem to have been born without.
Add that to the fact that I also have no common sense and you have a recipe for disaster.

From the fairly common mistake of hitting my thumb with a hammer, to the more unusual act gluing my favourite top to the inside of a drawer I was trying to fix, I have done it all.

At school I was every Design Technology teachers nightmare.
I was always keen to have a go, which always came across in my reports ‘Laura tries everything, but sometimes I wish she wouldn’t!’
To this day I have never seen a teacher move so fast as my year nine DT teacher did when I attempted to use a big power drill.
Granted I had not put the safety guard on and the free standing drill was merrily spinning closer to my head, but I still feel she overreacted!
That incident marked the end of my freedom in class, and I was moved to the bench furthest away from all the interesting tools.

Fast forward a few years to University, when during my second year drama performance I was chosen to work on set design!
The sight off all the power tools lining up in the cupboard filled me with excitement.
However lecturers soon learnt the error of their ways after I managed to glue my hand to a table with a hot glue gun, take a chunk out of my finger with a hammer, and drill through a chair all in one week.
I was moved to painting, and banned from all contact with power tools.

Now I leave the DIY to my dad.
Actually, that is a lie, I am made to leave it to my dad.
He has banned me from entering his workshop without ‘adult’ supervision, and that is where all the tools are kept.

However, after my triumph I wonder if he will rethink his ban?
Somehow I very much doubt it!

Banana skins, more deadly than you think!

Up until last week I didn’t think it was possible.
I thought it was something out of a comic book, an act designed to make people laugh.
I am, of course, talking about slipping on a banana skin.
This act is famous in comic books, cartoons and sketch shows, where one character is sent flying by the deadly yellow skin, often with hilarious consequences.
However I was under the impression I was immune from the problem, not believing it could really cause people to fall.

How wrong I was.
Now, I am pretty accident prone, and have been known to fall over thin air.
So when, on my routine walk home from work, I slipped and landed on my bottom I thought I had been having one of those days.
Imagine my surprise when I looked down and saw the banana skin crushed beneath my shoe.
For me it dispelled the myth that stepping on a banana skin was safe, and for people around me it gave them a good laugh.

Interested to see if others had experienced the same thing as me I turned to the internet.
After some research I found that the  joke of slipping on a banana skin dates back to the turn of the century, when bananas were becoming popular as a snack for the working class.
Once the bananas were eaten, the peels were just discarded on the street.
Comic strips and artists drawings at that time showed naughty little boys throwing skins to trip up parents, teachers, police, and other people in authority.

So here is a warning from me to you.
When you are innocently walking along keep your eyes peeled (no pun intended) for the seemingly harmless banana skin.
It is not as harmless as you may have believed.

Review of The Vinyard, in Berkshire

I am a wine lover, and it is my favourite tipple to drink at weekends.

So what was better for me than a visit to The Vineyards, in Newbury, Berkshire, which prides itself on the vast array of good quality wines on offer.

The Vineyard is privately owned by Sir Peter Michael, who is a self confessed wine lover.

It shows in his hotel, which has an extensive wine list, with around 2,300 bottles on offer, from countries including France, Italy, Spain and Australia.

It is no wonder, then, that on choosing wine before our meal my partner Joe and I needed a little help.

Luckily the charming and friendly staff were only to happy to oblige, choosing us a light and fruity chardonnay.

Although widely known for its wine The Vineyard also boasts a top restaurant.
The menu has been created using the freshest of ingredients all seasonally sourced, and is described as  classic French cuisine with both Mediterranean and far eastern influences
The work and care that goes in to creating each individual dish is clear to see.

This comes as no surprise when you realise the kitchen is headed up by Michelin star chef Daniel Galmiche, who regularly appears on BBC’s Saturday Kitchen with James Martin.

I almost did not want to eat my main dish of free range veal with Swiss chard and smoked mash potato as the presentation was so lovely.
However I was glad I did, as it was by far the best veal I had ever tasted.
The pan fried sea bass got a big thumbs up from Joe, along with both our starters and desserts.
The atmosphere in the restaurant is perfectly complimented by the sounds of a pianist, who was only too happy to play requests for diners.

As part of our stay we visited the spa, which gives guests time to relax and be pampered.
A full range of treatments are offered in the tranquil settings, from facials to full body massages as well as beauty essentials, and makeup.
Although we did not have time to try one of the many treatments, we were happy to swim in the pool, and take time to relax in the hot tub.

For the night we were put up in one of the five star hotels luxury suites which have been beautifully decorated.
Each of the 49 rooms have been named after wines, with the top six suites named after Peter Michael wines, and the remaining rooms named after Californian, French, Italian and Spanish wine labels.

During our time at The Vineyard our every need was catered for, and nothing was too much trouble.
From the dedicated service at meals, to the friendly greeting on arrival the staff were keen to please and excelled my expectations.
Guests will not be disappointed, and will be left wanting to stay for longer.

The Vineyard excepts guests, diners, and people who just want to use the spa.
For more information and to view prices visit http://www.the-vineyard.co.uk/, call 01635 528770 or email reservations@the-vineyard.co.uk.

Hypnotherapy.....does it work?

Hypnotherapy conjures up images of men asking you to look into their eyes before convincing you to bark like a dog in front of a laughing audience.
To dispel the myth, and get help for exam nerves I visited Victoria Proctor at the Peace of Mind clinic on Upper Borough Walls.

On entering the light office I was immediately put at ease by the relaxed setting, and clam manner of Victoria.
I knew that I was in good hands as Victoria is one of the first hypnotherapists in the country to be registered by the Complementary and Natural Healthcare Council (CNHC), the UK regulator for complementary healthcare.
Victoria, aged 27 from Highlittleton, has been treating people in Bath for three years, with problems including anxiety, depression, and weight issues.
Her interest in hypnotherapy began while she was studying for her degree in psychology with music.
Also a trained classical singer she suffered severe stage fright when performing, and found hypnotherapy helpful in managing her fear.
She became interested in how the mind creates anxiety and how this can be effectively treated.

 

On learning this I felt she was ideal to help me learn how to cope with the nerves and feelings of anxiety I experience when taking a shorthand exam.
Hypnotherapy involves using a trance state to reinforce positive change and personal goal achievement.
Victoria said: “Being in a relaxed state allows us to understand the vital role the mind plays in allowing us to reach our goals.
“It allows people to make positive changes in their lives.
“Having hypnotherapy myself for both stage fright and weight loss, I have experienced first hand the enormous benefits that hypnotherapy, combined with psychotherapy, can give.

After explaining my problem I was asked to lie on the sofa.
In traditional hypnotherapy style Victoria counted down from 10 to 1, while playing relaxing music.
Quite sceptical at first I did not believe it would work, but I soon found myself in a very relaxed state.
Victoria helped me to reach a state of mind where I felt relaxed and happy, using images of sun, trees and water.
On bringing me back into the real world she told me to remember the feelings, and use them to stay calm in an exam situation.

Victoria has seen people ranging in age from 10 to 76, and said she loves being able to help people.
She said: “I love my job, as no two days are ever the same.
“I know that hypnotherapy can really help someone.
“People who see me are amazed at how it can help them.”
I am determined to use the relaxation techniques Victoria taught me in my next exam, and fingers crossed it works.
To find out how hypnotherapy can help you visit www.peaceofmindchp.co.uk, call Victoria on 07860 475220 or email victoria.proctor@peaceofmindchp.co.uk.

Me and my car....a disaster waiting to happen!

My knowledge of cars, and their complex inner workings is lacking. Actually, when I say lacking, I mean non existent. This, coupled with my ability to cause chaos wherever I go, is why my poor car must hate me.

As all sensible parents would do mine put me in a breakdown cover. This was to protect me, and indeed them, when disaster struck. And strike it did. In the space of two years I managed to call the company out three times, to deal with mechanical problems like my tyre blowing while I was merrily doing 80mph in the middle lane on the motorway, or when my battery died leaving me stranded in a dark park. I have also called on them when my own stupidity (they don’t call me blonde for nothing) caused me to lock my keys in the car while visiting friends in Hereford.

However for my latest car disaster I didn’t call them, as I wasn’t sure they would take me seriously. Imagine the phone call ‘Hello, I was driving along and my wing mirror just shattered.’

That’s exactly what happened (or what I thought had happened until I spoke to the oracle of cars, better known as my dad, later). I was driving along an empty country road, laughing at the antics of Chris Moyles and his crew, when suddenly there was an almighty bang. This caused me to scream, and hurriedly pull over. Now, I believed that one of my tyres had burst. Feeling slightly smug that I had worked out what the problem was, I got out of the car and checked my tryes. All four were fine. Feeling stumped I sat back in my car, and did what I do in times of stress, check to make sure my hair looked ok. Well, I may have to call on a cute policeman for assistance, and I wanted to look good! This was when I established the problem, the glass in my wing mirror was gone.

Feeling very confused I drove the rest of the way to work, to recount my tale. Proving that they know me well my colleagues all asked me what I had hit. The answer was nothing, I was the only car on the road, and there was nothing to hit!

On arriving home that night the car oracle assessed the situation and told me that, rather than just being the glass as I had thought, the whole wing mirror was broken.

The verdict on what actually happened? Well, according to the car oracle I hit a bird! You think even I would have noticed this! Apparently not.

So a word of warning to all the feathered  creatures out there, if you see a small silver clio heading your way with a blonde driver behind the wheel fly away. It will save your life, and will mean I still have a wing mirror to assess my hair. After all, that’s what they are for, aren’t they?!