Wanted

WANTED - Man to share the continuous loop of abject joy that is my life. Must like children and cats, preferably hamsters too but open to negotiation on that. Good sense of humour an absolute must, medication to counter psychotic episodes will be offered on a needs must basis. No footbore fans please, Sundays are for eating roast dinners, not watching twenty two grown men kick a ball into a net and take it out again. See also - gardening centres.

No gingers, this is due to previous experiences and not open for discussion. Apart from anything else, I couldn't have such contamination of the gene pool on my conscience. You will preferably have extensive experience in DIY and be fairly handy with large tools. Specifically, if you can build a large cage this will be a huge asset, never mind why.

If, like me, you harbour a dark desire to kick anyone opposed to paid consensual sex up and down the banks of the Clyde, rest assured this will put you to the very top of the list. If your idea of heaven is a weekend away in a secluded hotel with a hot tub and food service, superb. If however, your ideal includes a triathlon, or anything above and beyond a brisk walk, then jog on.

Please send a full length picture with your application, ideally in tight swimming shorts.

LL xx

P.S : In the interests of honesty, I have enclosed a picture depicting my demeanour any time before 12pm and also during "that" week of the month. You have been warned.

Those pesky clients

Tomorrow I head into the abyss which is - no home broadband for ten days. Counselors are on standby, I simply don't know what I will do when the ability to go onto Mumsnet and start a fight is taken away. This horrific state of affairs is because I am moving house, something I'm looking forward to in terms of the new property, but in the interim, I really wish Boy Cat would grow tired of the 'pouncing on the black sacks' game.

The run up to the move has been stressful beyond belief, I just hate mayhem, and right now my house looks like the aftermath of a particularly vicious tornado. I'm going to let you into a little secret, guess who has been keeping me afloat for the last little while, listening to me whinge and bemoan life ? Those pesky clients, that's who. Those men who routinely 'abuse and disrespect' us have come up trumps. Some of my guys have been with me for years, and it is, I suppose, quite unavoidable that a friendship develops on the back of that, particularly when you spend long periods of time together.

What I wasn't prepared for though, are the lengths these friends are prepared to go to, it astounds me that they care so much, and I feel very honoured. Right now I am the proud owner of not one but two pairs of glasses, all because one of my guys got sick to death of seeing me squint at the television and books. He frog marched me down to the opticians and made sure I had an eye test and picked up the prescription too. We're still negotiating on a hearing test, those who know me well will tell you that if there is any background noise I am stuffed, and have been known to watch people's mouths to catch what they're saying.

One of my guys has been my backbone, in terms of many forms of support, but most importantly, he has given me the self belief to go out there and speak in public, albeit rather nervously. Thank you, J.

M is a plastic surgeon, and has offered me botox injections to lift my eyebrow where it has been damaged by my abusive ex.

D is a gym bunny, he knows I really want to shed quite a lot of weight and he has offered to train me on a one to one basis, to optimize fat burning and provide motivational support too. I think that means he's going to shout at me, which will be fun, because it's usually the other way around. He's also big into nutrition and healthy eating, so he's going to show me how to 'juice' and make simple meals from fresh food. Apparently, you can cook without checking the back of a packet for the number of minutes in a microwave, who knew ?

I'm so very grateful to have a job which has introduced me to such wonderful human beings.

See you all on the other side of no broadband hell, I'll still have my iPhone so all is not lost but still, I'm using these last precious hours to google internet withdrawal syndrome.

LL xx

Activism and Angst

No-one has ever yet written "The Guide to Perfect Parenting", in principal because the perfect parent doesn't exist. Babies don't come with a Haynes manual which tells you what to do in the event of an unplanned exhaust leak which escapes the utilised protection and slowly makes it's way down the legs of your trolley and onto the floor of Asda. Or what to do when they work themselves up into such a state of temper that they bang their heads in tune to the over priced soothing baby lullaby CD you just purchased. There's no trouble shooting flow chart or help desk. Instinctively, you just know, and with that knowledge comes a solution, tailor made to every diazepam inducing incident.

But while we can all meet once a week and bitch (sorry, empathise) over coffee about our little darlings and their latest attempts to have us sectioned, in my experience it's the same subjects which arise for discussion over and over, 'Is my child showing the first signs of psychosis ?', or 'Why do they behave for every other fecker but me ?' One subject very worthy of discussion has yet to come up in our group, and it is simply this - how to instil a sense of social justice in your child. Of course, they will form their own core values and belief system, but children can very quickly become a product of their environment.

A long time ago and in an Irish kitchen far away, my Dad was preparing a carcass, when I swept in the door from school.

"Hi Dad, what's for dinner ?"

"Oh, this is just an auld mutt I found on the road, hit by a car, so I thought - waste not, want not".

I was speechless with anger, after all, our house had become known as the de facto shelter for every waif and stray. Flaring my nostrils as I do when I'm very cross indeed, I loudly declared -

"RIGHT. THAT'S IT. I AM NOT EATING ANY MORE MEAT IN THIS HOUSE UNTIL SUCH TIME AS THE ATTITUDE OF THIS FAMILY HAS CHANGED TOWARDS THE WELFARE OF ERM ... DEAD ANIMALS."

To this day I don't know how my father kept a straight face, in any event, my 'protest' lasted until the following Saturday morning when our traditional fry up was filling those flared nostrils of mine with aromas so beautiful I could stand it no longer. I slouched into the kitchen and announced - "Sure the pig won't mind anyway, he's in heaven".

Fast forward some twenty years and suddenly it befalls me to combat those highly enjoyable convivial jousts as they arise. It started one balmy evening as LP and I were watching television and some horrifying footage of starving children in Africa was being shown. Studying her little face, the wheels of cognition could almost be observed, spinning furiously.

"MAM".

"Yes sweetpea ?"

"Sure that baby doesn't have any food ?"

"No love, none."

"No juice either ?"

"No, no juice either."

"No blankies ?"

"No sweetie, nothing."

She thought about this state of affairs, long and hard before her face lit up with all the excitement of a ground breaking solution to world hunger.

"Well then her mammy should have gone to Tesco's, shouldn't she ?"

Clearly, there was a lot of work to be done. In mitigation, she was very young then and has since grown to grasp the basics, such as - the oppression of minority groups is never acceptable. She even gets the concept that one person's moral code should never dictate the sexual freedoms of a society, whether those freedoms are exercised in a commercial sense or in the privacy of one's bedroom. Quite impressive for a twelve year old really.

Less impressive was this evening's display of pre-teen plumage. I had not long returned from a long day at a photo shoot and I was tired and cranky. On entering the kitchen, there stood a triumphant boy cat, licking his chops having just enjoyed the last remaining scraps of ice cream, as offered to him in a cereal bowl.

"For Christ's sake, can we not share the crockery with the animals ? Especially when he spends the vast majority of his day with his tongue between his thighs ?"

"SHAME ON YOU. CATS HAVE RIGHTS TOO."

Yep, it's going to be a long week.

LL xx

Ankles and angst

Good evening and greetings from Inverness where I am chilling out with a bowl of room service chilli (dreadful) and my magic wand (significantly less dreadful). I'm thinking back to the day I was awarded my degree all those years ago, it was all going so well. We lined up with our parents and collected our awards, after which we debunked to the local restaurant for lunch and yet more photographs.

At 4pm, our parents made their excuses and left and we regrouped for the party to end all parties. We deserved it, we had all spent the previous six weeks surviving on diet coke and Marlboro lights, trapped in our horrid student flats. By 10pm, it had all begun to fall apart. A couple of fledgling lawyers had wandered off in search of the elusive burger van, one had gone back to a very dodgy flat for a private party and still another had fallen into the canal, by Rathmines. As for me, I was in the residual party of survivors, up the back of the pub singing loudly and having a whale of a time.

Rather typically, my friend E had just found the true love of her life, again. She was quite literally inside his mouth and it was yours truly who was dispatched to go and rescue her. In huge heels and even bigger hair, I picked my way down the sodden and darkened steps to the basement bar, before bawling at her over the loud music - "COME ON, BACK TO MINE". She gave me that look, the one which says - "I'm this close to getting his phone number on the back of a ciggy packet, DO ONE", so I went to Plan B. There were some girls on the steps, dancing side ways up and down (show girl style) to New York, New York. Well, if you can't beat them, join them is what I say. Come the very end of the song and we were really going for it, the fact that I didn't actually know any of the other dancers was by the by, in Irishland, provided you're drunk and friendly, it really doesn't matter.

I went for the bottom step and missed it in spectacular fashion, my foot went over to one side and there was a loud 'snap'. I didn't actually hear that snap, but it was politely pointed out by a lady who was sitting at a table just adjacent to my not very comfortable landing pad. I laughed out loud, ankles don't just snap, right ? Having said that, when I got to my feet, that ankle flatly refused to take the weight of my body, resulting in my getting home through a variety of carrying techniques and hopping.

By the time we got to my flat, my ankle was rather swollen, but I was reliably informed that it was just sprained, so in true Irish fashion we got on with the night and commenced strip poker. Come 4am, my ankle was turning black, and the size of a football.

"I'm not being funny girls, but I really think I've done something awful here."

"Oh give over. Put some frozen peas on it. Well, mini pizza's then."

I woke up the next day in mortal agony. I literally couldn't get out of bed, any sudden movement at all went right through my foot and caused anything from a sharp intake of breath to a muted scream.

I did what every independent twenty something graduate does in times of trouble, I called my Dad.

"DADDY, I FELL".

He came to my rescue, and sat with me in the hospital whilst they manipulated my ankle back into place and plastered it up. Cue paternal loving frown.

"Look, you'll be all right. Just get up and get on with it".

This week, I've had the week from hell in a lot of respects. I had some bad news which quite literally took my breath away, it was like a punch to the stomach. Although I'm entering a really exciting phase involving a lot of media and a total change in direction, that one phone call really took the wind out of my sails. So, I did the one thing a thirty something mother at the base of a new career and in a crisis should do, I called my Dad. Cue paternal loving frown.

"Look, you'll be all right. Head up and keep smiling. Go get 'em."

Thanks Dad.

LL xx

Saturday sleepovers

Good evening and greetings from home where I am chilling out with Le Mog having finally finished my tax return. Officially, I'm not speaking to Boy Cat. I spent most of yesterday laboriously sorting my receipts into monthly piles only for one over excited cat in hot pursuit of a fly to jump up on my desk and knock the whole feckin' lot over. I wouldn't mind, but he's not even looking suitably contrite.

I'm not long back from Belfast, where I was finishing off the documentary for Channel 4 and it was an experience to say the least. It was very stressful, not because of the crew, they were fabulous, but because in between bouts of filming I had to jump into various outfits to meet clients. Although this is something I've become accustomed to on tour, it was a new level of manic. I know that the end result will be worth it though, and I hope to challenge perceptions on sex and disability.

On a break from filming I phoned home, as is my daily custom. La Princess was full of chat, everything from, 'I miss you', to 'Can I have a tenner to top up my phone?' I was waiting for the inevitable, and in time, it came. "Can I have a sleepover this weekend ?" GREAT.

For the uninitiated, 'sleepovers' run as follows - several very grateful parents drop their little darlings chez moi, and head off in the direction of the nearest off licence or dealer, the understanding being that they snap out of their temporary delicious psychosis and be on my doorstep by 1pm the next day.

The bemusing part of sleepovers is the solid belief in the participants, that what they are about to perpetrate has never been done before. Uh huh, because parents were born aged 30. So, it's -

Creeping to the kitchen to empty the contents - check.

Sub-dividing the group into two with bitchery, with one group ending up in the hallway at 2am, hotly debating the identity of the bigger bitch - check.

Antagonising the hamster, to the point where she squeals in temper, the defence offered being - "We didn't do anything, she was just sitting there" - check.

Antagonising the cat, to the point where he scratches, the defence being - "We didn't do anything, he was just sitting there" - check.

Freaking each other out with ghost stories until someone asks to come into my bed - check.

Ordinarily, I just throw in pizza, popcorn, several bags of sweeties and then shut the door, slinking off to my own boudoir with boy cat and a good book, but this weekend I have a new game plan just ready and waiting for the inevitable onslaught.

I'M GOING TO KILL THEM WITH TWITTER.

Normally, I throw open the door at 2am, 3.30am, and 3.35am and beseech, "Girls, please ! Keep it down, we have neighbours". As you can imagine, that approach is about as effective as putting a brake on a canoe, so the new plan is simply as follows - I'm going to befuddle them with all of the new delicious terminology I've learned on Twitter.

I envision the process as follows. Throw door open, and -

11pm. - "TROPE".

12.10am - "PATRIARCHY".

12.30am - "HELEN MIRREN".

12.45am - "NICK CLEGG HAS A GREEN ONESIE".

12.47am - "SUZANNE MOORE'S TRANSPHOBIC EXPLOSION".

I reckon, that by 1am they'll either be stunned into shocked silence or they'll have had me sectioned. Either way, blissful peace awaits.

LL xx

Topiaries and Tom Cruise

Thusfar, November has been stressful beyond belief. In fact, when I recently met Rhoda Grant at Holyrood, I told her that I will be a size ten by Christmas and it's all her fault. How we laughed.

Meanwhile, at Activism HQ, we've had moments of nothingness, by which I mean, November and December are just so full on that we wondered what on earth we will campaign about come the new year. Fear not, for I have a solution.

Mandatory conscription for sixteen year old males to a two week intensive training piece on kissing. Preferably, this would be held in the dark, but I'm sure that idea would be contrary to some Human Rights Convention or another, initiated by some well meaning train spotter called Colin.

This rather unique and brilliant idea was born out of my time on Facebook yesterday, when I noticed several friends vying for the title of most notable Movember 'tache. I know I'm an escort, but were I to sponsor them all I would have to resort to shop lifting cat litter again, not a prospect I relish to be honest.

It got me thinking about the whole Magnum PI era. Remember THAT moustache ? It was iconic, it was part of his character and it was even 'cool', but I bet his make up people didn't have to kiss him. See I don't mind moustaches or beards per se, they can even be sexy. Where it becomes problematic is where the length of such facial topiaries mean I will be eternally grateful for the emergency tonsillectomy I had as a child.

The crux of the matter is this, kissing is rather like any other form of oral gratification, it needs to be built up slowly, y'all. I make no secret of my love of cheesecake but to woff it down in one would be gluttonous and anyway, the taste needs to be savoured, treasured even.

So I object, yes I said OBJECT to anyone who thinks that as a prerequisite to making the beast with two backs they can explore my larynx and expect me not to gag, (I gave up fake moaning years ago). Don't do that, dude. Softly softly catchy girly, or words to a similar effect anyway.

All of the above has been brought on by an event last night which will scar me for life. One of my friends sent me as message as follows - "Remember that day when we bunked off school and watched THAT scene from Top Gun over and over ? We rewound that Betamax tape until there was smoke coming from the machine just so we could see Tom Cruise making love in silhouette ? Well I've found the scene on You-Tube."

I was so excited I could barely contain myself, indeed boy cat dived for cover. But what I witnessed resulted in slack jawed horror. He does the tongue thing, BEFORE they've even hit the bed. UNFORGIVABLE. I thought my respect for Tom Cruise had diminished beyond any and all conceivable repair following *that* incident on Oprah's sofa, but no. I'm done with him now. And November.

LL xx

Apes and Altruism

Is there any such thing as true altruism ? I ask because of late I have been studying apes, not the type to be found at the taxi rank just off Sauchiehall Street on a Friday night, but bonobos. The female of the species appease an aggressive male by having sex with him, and in doing so ensure the continuity of peace within the group. That's all very magnanimous of her, but isn't there a reciprocal benefit ? As a female I know that you can't put a price on peace and quiet and what of her own sexual pleasure ? Also, what of her own increased standing in her peer group as a peace maker ?

I ask for your opinions on altruism (and do please feel free to comment) because last weekend, I raised the level of magnanimousness to infinity, I agreed to take LP to a "dance competition" in Blackpool. If the truth be known, I was rather looking forward to it because I had never been to Blackpool before and also, I knew she would enjoy the experience because she has been training SO hard, (for which read, almost taking the cat's eye out in the living room with various contortions which would have Madonna reaching for her cod liver oil).

On arrival to the recommended hotel (which by the way, I wouldn't order a sub to stay in), we were greeted with the familiar base beat of the music which was to haunt my life and my dreams for the next 48 hours.

Every parent's worst nightmare (aside from the very obvious) must surely be your treasured child, having consumed three cans of red bull, cartwheeling across the reception area of a hotel, almost knocking the zimmer frame out from under Glenda, recently arrived back from her trip to the local bingo. Ordinarily, I would die before I would allow my little darling anywhere near red bull, but here I had to concede because this is the way it's done at "comps". The dancing that they do is high energy, high effort and in repeated rounds, so if your little treasure wants to do well, taurine it is, like it or lump it.

One gets to an age where night clubs just no longer hold any appeal, the loud music, blinding lights and having to roar at each other become tiresome, a good meal out with some laughter becomes far preferable and to be honest, the thoughts of having some gobshite try and bellow some cheesy lines at me at the bar of a noisy nightclub in an attempt to get me under his duvet just fills me with horror. GET. LOST.

So, here's where the altruism comes into play. I placed myself in a darkened function room for two days, with two hundred wild eyed little princesses, all decked from head to toe in sequins and flinging themselves around to the incessant bellow of massive speakers, HELL.

Of most curiosity were the Mothers who wondered past with a broad beam, "...you enjoying yourself ? It's a great atmosphere !!"

ARE YOU QUITE MAD ??

From time to time, I took time out to retreat to our hotel room, and in spite of my immortal terror of them, I could enjoy the sight of several large rats scampering over the bins at the back of the hotel, (told you it was a dump) mainly because I was two floors above them. I allowed myself a flight of fantasy and pictured what it must be like as a rat. I'm sure it's pretty shit overall, what with natural predators, poisons, not to mention those eejits on a "life of grime", but at least they don't have to sit and "enjoy" two days of some truly dreadful music which would drive squatters and bed bugs out, never mind hotel "guests".

So in the end, I gave up. Sod it, if you can't beat them, join them and I necked two red bulls just to join in the hysteria and see what I was missing out on. Bugger all actually, but at least it convinced LP that an early night was in order if only to stop me doing my "Ebeneezer Good" rave moves on the dance floor, mission accomplished.

In the end, when I had all but voluntarily signed myself in to the nearest secure unit where I could draw with some nice non toxic crayons all day, came the moment, that which made it all worthwhile.

She had done it and lifted a very large trophy over her head, to tumultuous applause, and screeches from her amassed completely delirious and cross eyed peers.

"Altruism" my backside, the reciprocal feeling of maternal pride was one I won't let go of for a very long time to come.

LL xx

Pasta and Parenting

Good evening and greetings from home where I am awaiting the abomination known as "cheesy pasta" to be served, compliments of my (now) 11 year old. With increased age comes increased responsibility I suppose, so I will let her use the cooker provided I can lurk in various doorways with a tea towel handy, just in case. Where I couldn't lurk this week was when she went on a group outing to see "The Muppets" at the cinema. There was a group of 8 of them, all duly dropped off and collected by parents, who had been nominated by text - "Feck off, I did the birthday party last week". You'd think, wouldn't you, that I would relish the thoughts of a couple of hours alone in the house, to maybe get some study done, a little ironing or in reality, visiting THAT place on You-Tube, when you've followed a link from a link and end up ( as I did ) in an animated "discussion" with some semi-literate gobshite from Tennessee as to the rights and wrongs of coon hunting. I digress.

The reason I couldn't settle down into any of my favourite activities, (yes, even Porn Hub and my Magic Wand were foregone ) is because herself was on a date. Yep, a DATE. He's 12, so obviously she prefers the older gents like her Mother. On first appreciation of the horrid fact that she was "going out" with someone, I flew down to the school like a woman possessed. No way was my daughter going to land in my kitchen at the age of 15 with some tracksuit wearing clown to announce that I was going to be a Grandma and further, that we were booked to appear on Jeremy Kyle the following week, I THINK NOT.

My fears were appeased by the very wonderful teacher therein, and he assured me that these "relationships", (such as they are) are usually over before they have started and are entirely innocent. Hmmm. Nevertheless, I sent her off to the cinema with a stern warning that were she to kiss a boy, there are enzymes in her mouth which mean her tongue will turn black and I will know, instantly. You might think it's mean to send your child to the cinema in a state of irrational fear, I call it a pre-emptory strike. Parenting at this level is new, and difficult too. I could deal with hands down toilets, toast in the DVD player and decking other toddlers, that was easy peasy.

Anyway, as it happened, she came home to announce loudly that he had been "dumped". Yes, four days into romance of the century and it was all over, there goes any notions I had of negotiating deals with "Howya" magazine and securing several white doves, (all cared for and with the best of welfare, of course). My feverish search for a "Mother of the Bride" outfit can wait, apparently of more importance this week coming rather than the broken heart she has heartlessly walked away from is the forthcoming cheer leading try-outs, deep joy.

I'm off to Inverness on Monday and will catch up with you from there, there are some fantastic blogs I want to draw your attention to when I am finally alone in a hotel room, devoid of any newly emergent hormones or the zoo that surrounds me here.

LL xx

Holidays and Happy Hookers

Roite, I'm off ( well almost ). On Wednesday I am heading for the Isle of Man, returning to sunny Ayrshire to empty my suitcase unceremoniously into the laundry basket before refilling with pieces of cloth masquerading as clothes which would make The Mothers' eyes roll in the back of her head, then it's off to Turkey. All in all I won't be back in Glasgae until Tuesday the 25th, just in time to erect the electric fencing and trip wires for the little darlings at Halloween. ( Aside from the local "nice" children, we also get an influx of mini-skinheads who "egg yer gaff" if you don't give them cash, so preparation is key. ) I suppose you're wondering why on earth I have a picture of battling pandas to accompany this post ? No reason really, other than I thought it was an awesome picture and I don't see how they hope to avoid extinction if they keep battling each other with light sabres.

I came across this little beauty the other day, it's from the European Women's Lobby and features this video, which quite honestly blew my mind. "Prostitution is a form of violence and oppression", apparently. Yet again, the glaringly obvious has been over looked, that is - the community of sex workers who are happy in their work, although according to Julie Bindel the "Happy Hooker" is a myth. If this is to be a movement lobbying for women's rights, what about my rights as a woman to work perfectly legally as an escort ? What about my right to earn a living and support my family ? Oh wait, those rights don't sit well with their moral values, so they can't be of any consequence.

The Sex Worker Open University have penned a reply to that video and I've included a quote for you below which I think is rather brilliant.

"The European Women's Lobby has recently launched a campaign called Together For a Europe Free from Prostitution.

Their view of the sex industry is once more reducing women to victims, and prostitution to a system of violence against women. Once more, some women sitting in comfortable chairs in some official EU building are deciding what we should or should not do with our bodies. Once more, we are being silenced and victimised. Once more, our voices are being confiscated and we are not sex workers anymore but prostituted women.

That's enough.

We want to show them that sex work is work. This is how we make a living. This is how we pay our rent, our bills, our sex changes and our children's studies.
Those are our decisions. Our bodies. Our voices. Our lives.

We are from all genders and races.

Stop invisibilising trans women and men from the debate on sex work. Invisibilising us is a form of violence and discrimination.
Stop pretending that sex work is only male to female penetration. The services we offer are as varied as we are. Sex, companionship, BDSM, fetish.... Sex is not disgusting and the only thing that makes us sick is your insulting and degrading video.

To stop exploitation and abuse in the sex industry, we need to be heard. We want rights--human and labour rights, not more criminalisation. Criminalising our clients will only force us to work in more underground and less safe conditions.

You care about sex workers? You want us to stay alive? Listen to us now!
Stop victimising us. Stop criminalising us. Stop silencing us."

Fantastic, when I come back from holidays feeling less like I've been run over by a roads lorry from Glasgow City Council I will put pen to paper too.

In the meantime, farewell Steve Jobs. Like them or loathe them, Apple have been incredibly successful and Steve Jobs was a visionary - I love this quote from him;

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped my dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

LL xx

Bed Picnics and Belfast

Short, spiked fringes coaxed with gel ( fae Farmfoods ) and brushed forwards to within an inch of their lives, an over powering waft of Lynx Animal and his and hers shiny tracksuits - it can only mean one thing, I'm back in Glasgow, hurrah.

I had a splendid time in London. Firstly let me say it is always a pleasure to meet a gentleman who has found me via Rhia Charles, as I know he'll have a modicum of basic manners and decorum as a minimum. This particular gent arrived at my hotel room with a bed picnic, consisting of freshly squeezed orange juice, smoked salmon, grapes and chocolate biscuits too, it was bliss, ( or as we say in Glasgow - it was pure brilliant, so it was ).

I had the opportunity to have dinner with Ellie LLoyd, Susan and Burlesque Honey and we amused ourselves by people watching. To be more specific, we were watching one particular "lady" ( and I use the term very loosely indeed ) who was gyrating around a bemused business man with such ferocity that I thought she was going to do her neck an injury with all that orgasm-mimicking flicking that was going on. We were in stitches to begin with, especially when said business man spotted us and said -

"In her defence, she IS Norwegian."

Well that finished us off I'm afraid. In the end I found myself rather annoyed that her so called "friends" didn't get her in a headlock and take her to her room to sleep off the excesses because she really was in danger of doing something dreadfully daft. Ho hum.

Tomorrow I'm off to Belfast and true to form the volcanic ash has hit us once again, just on time. Great. Hopefully Spandex and I will formulate an alternative travel plan which succeeds, otherwise I shall miss my monthly tryst. I've grown completely impervious to the bemused looks of security men now, I usually just flash them a grin.

Well, I'm sure I'm not the first woman to walk through customs with a rampant rabbit, butt plug, cat o'nine tails, handcuffs, bondage rope, lube in several flavours, nipple clamps, an egg topper, various restraints, a blindfold and two strap ons. Anyway, if anyone compromises my identity on Twitter I can always sue, I don't see why not, every other fecker is.

LL xx

Moggies, Mountains and Missions

I really wish the red deer of Scotland would have an EGM.

"Listen guys, I'm not so sure about this 'standing in the middle of the road' thing. That's Kenny AND Colin we've lost this last week alone, and Heaven alone knows if Kev's antlers will ever be the same again." They could introduce some punitive measure such as having to shack up with the doe with the worst breath, for instance. Everyone's a winner, the bucks get to shine up their antlers in time for the rutting season and I don't almost roll my car around a feckin' ditch trying to dodge them on the A82 on my way back from The Highlands. *sigh*

I think it's fair to say that girl cat is not exactly known for her high intellectual ability either, which is one of the reasons I adore her. There's a wonderful Glasgow expression .... "there's a want about that cat", which just about sums her up really. Never in my life have I met a cat who will repeatedly chase her own tail, catch it, bite it, cry ... and do it again - nor have I ever met a cat who ( when I have the audacity to close my bedroom door for some 'me' time ) headbutts the door repeatedly to the amusement of my pal who remarked -

'Gonnae buy that cat a wee American footie helmet 'afore she knocks wuts left o' her brains oot.' ( I've never been one for dressing up animals but I must admit, that does sound unbearably cute. )

Since I moved into my new dwelling, boy cat has established himself in the back garden and takes great pleasure in tormenting my neighbour's Shih Tzus by doing the circumference of the garden on a high wall and waving his tail at them. It hasn't occurred to him yet that they're too busy humping anything which moves ( each other usually ), to notice or even care. Girl cat, on the other hand, managed to get out of the kitchen ( NB : not while I was here ) and has yet to return. That was two weeks ago. :(

Since then, a massive search and rescue mission has been ongoing, with various members of my family and friends roaming the streets calling her and rattling her favourite biscuit box, but to no avail. At first I thought she'd return when she was hungry, ( so within 45 minutes then ) but zilch. In the interim I have called the police, the council and the Cat's Protection League and whilst I know it's a voluntary post and to be commended, I really wish the gentleman that persons the telephone would hone his people skills, just a tad.

"Is she neutered ?"

"Yes she is, and micro-chipped too."

"Ah well, that's good then, I haven't had a report of a CARCASS matching her description yet".

"Um .... well that's positive I guess."

".....because you see what happens is, even if she was flattened by a car, it's the Council's job to pick up the CARCASS. The CARCASS is then transported to the depot and scanned to see if there is any owner. None of the local vets have reported a CARCASS either."

In case it hasn't become screamingly apparent over time, I adore my mogs, so to hear my beloved Foghorn Leghorn ( one of her pet names ) described as a "CARCASS" was a bit upsetting to be honest. He really did bellow it too, it must be his word of the week. It did nothing to ease my stress levels I can tell you.

My own opinion is that she has pitched up with some sweet old lady somewhere and is busy eating her out of house and home - I can see her now, opening her big green eyes and miaowing like she's never been fed, a poster child for the SSPCA. I really hope she makes it home, but as time goes by I'm starting to wonder. My misery has been compounded by my new neighbour ( a fearsome woman who resembles Popeye, but with blonde hair ), who told me of a spate of cat nappings in the area a couple of years ago, "for the greyhounds". I don't want to even think about that. :(

Onto matters more positive, I had a splendid time in The Highlands, we took a cable car up the Nevis Range and the above picture was taken there, fabulous views. From just south of Fortwilliam we took the Corran Ferry to Ardgour and drove out to Ardnamurchan. It really is a place of exceptional natural beauty and peace, lucky as we were to be able to watch some herons nesting, and to simply enjoy the glorious landscape and blazing sun. Later in the week we were booked to do some off-road driving in a Landrover Defender and once I got over my initial nerves I was driving around like Mr. Magoo with "go faster" stripes, it was a hoot.

In fact, lately I've begun to appreciate the outdoors a lot more and have recently discovered the merits of running, ( yes, really ). I don't claim for one minute to be able to run particularly fast or for long periods of time but I love it, the rush of adrenalin is fantastic and I have managed to shed a further 7 pounds whilst pounding around with my Ipod too.

As you know if you have read my inane witterings as far back as that, last year I had a rather nasty scare when I found a lump, every woman's worst nightmare, ( not to mention what my Sis went through ). So, this year myself and a group of my girl friends are doing the "Race for Life" in Glasgow on Sunday June 5th, to raise money for cancer research. I have set up a fund raising page under my nom de plume so that anyone who reads my blog may also donate to Marie Curie too, a very worthy cause. I have set my target at £500 which is very attainable I would say so dig deep people !!
If you'd like to sponsor me you can do so without giving any of your personal information through this here link -

http://www.justgiving.com/Laura-Lee4

Thank you SOOOO much in advance, I will let you know how it all goes and how much I manage to raise too.

LL xx

Shakespeare and "Sorry"

In the grand scheme of things, I'd rather not have been around when Shakespeare was writing one of his masterpieces. With all that backstabbing ( metaphorically and physically speaking ) that was going on, by the end of one of his productions, almost the entire cast has been murdered or they've gone stark raving mad. I remember with a tremendous fondness being brought to see Zepherelli's production of Romeo and Juliet and being absolutely gutted at the end. "Nooooo, don't do that, she's not really dead, she's .... Oh." ( As I recall, the whole excursion was almost ruined by a couple of eegits who bellowed during the love scene "Good man yerself" but a steely glare from Sr. Bernadette soon sorted that. )

After that we went on to do The Scottish Play, and Lady M remains one of my favourite characters to this day. ( I don't suppose it occurred to anyone to tell her that all the sweet perfumes of Arabia would do nothing to help a psychotic episode but then it was centuries ago. )

The reason I'm having fond Shakespearian thoughts is because on Saturday, J took me to the Theatre Royal in Glasgow to see King Lear and it was wonderful. When the lead character carried Cordelia onto the stage for the final scene, I must admit my waterproof mascara was tested to the max. ( In fact I made my excuses and made for the ladies after curtain fall, only to run into a regular client and his wife, but she was too busy exchanging air-kisses with the creme de la creme of Glasgow society to notice the animated wink he sent my way - cheeky sod. )

A few things have had me deep in thought lately, not in a maudlin way though.

About a month ago I had a serious falling out with a lady who means a lot to me, I lost my temper ( as did she ) and since we are both of a similar Celtic disposition ( for which read - feisty, hot headed and stubborn as mules ), a silence ensued that I know affected me deeply, perhaps her too, although it would kill her to admit it.

Then I went on tour to Newcastle and Susan and I watched the news coverage of the events in Japan unfolding with slack-jawed horror. These people were having their entire lives taken from them, their homes, their families, their everything. It really put my own gripes into perspective and so I did the unthinkable, I wrote a very long and very open email which in all honesty could have been summed up in one word - "Sorry".

Within 18 hours, came the reply, equally as laborious but which could be summarised as "It takes two people to have a row, so I guess I'm partially to blame too". ( If you knew the lady concerned, that really is an incredibly generous concession to blame, more than I expected actually. ;) )

Sometimes, to apologise and offer the hand of friendship is to be the bigger woman and I'm very glad I did.

LL xx

Tears, Tours and Tetanus

Morning all, I'm at home following a very enjoyable evening with a new client, what a gentleman. We had a laugh and a half, thank you D. :)

My phone has not stopped going for the past couple of days with texts and calls from some of the loveliest women I know. Jeez, I've been blown away. Amanda, Amber, Anna Aroma, Claire, Susan, Caitlin, Louise, Faye, Hannah - if I've forgotten anyone I apologise. They've all taken the time out to find out how I'm doing and I have been very tearful just reading the messages. Thank you ladies ( and also to the gents too, you know who you are. )

I'm doing OK, I don't really want to go into details but I'm staying positive. :)

Now then, I've done my diary until the end of August and my planned tours are as follows -

* London City - 22nd and 23rd of July
* Inverness incalls 29th and 30th July
* Newcastle incalls 3rd and 4th August
* Inverness incalls 12th and 13th August
* Carlisle incalls 18th and 19th August

I'm limited in my touring opportunities for August because at the end of the month I am off to Catalonia again with Mr F which I am looking forward to more than I can possibly describe, ( apart from the Ryanair flight, which can't be helped. )

Meanwhile it looks like we might need another trip to my GP. *sigh*

I have brought the light of my life up to love animals and if I catch her so much as squashing a spider she is in big trouble. There are two downsides to that.

1. She regularly marches into the kitchen announcing; "RIGHT, WE'RE ADOPTING A DOLPHIN." I have to carefully explain that whilst I appreciate it's only £5 a month and you even get a picture ( Goddamn those TV ads ) I already donate to animal charities every month and we both sponsor a dog.

2. She insists on petting every mutt tied up outside Asda. I have told her until I'm blue in the face that some dogs are very nervous and you can't just launch yourself on them to see if they fancy a belly rub. Yesterday this resulted in a short sharp shock which has just about broken skin and since I can't remember when she last had a tetanus, it's the doctor's tomorrow. Oh joy.

Have a great Sunday everyone.

LL xx

Pals and Prossies

Evening all, greetings from home.

I've had a wonderful couple of days but very hectic, to put it mildly. On Thursday night I went to meet two very dear friends for dinner and I think we finally toppled over at about 3.30am, gibbering quietly. It was fantastic, we laughed like demented donkeys and talked about everything, from the state of the new coalition to the crucial issue of salad cream versus mayonnaise.

Friday saw the first meeting of the GPS, ( Glasgow Prossie's Society, obviously ). Susan, Hannah, myself and a new lady called Faye met for lunch and it was fantastic. I have always been a firm believer in networking and getting to know other ladies because I believe that the industry can be a very lonely and isolating place if you don't have someone you can confide in, even if it's just to say - "Urgh, I was so looking forward to that appointment but Shrek opened the door". Some of our other members such as Caitlin and Casey were away, but we have decided to make Amanda a member by proxy. She's not Glasgow based obviously, but she behaves like The Barras finest on tour, so that's good enough for us. ( She's going to murder me for that ).

Back to the new lady, she came to me via the buddy scheme and has just launched her site, there's a link to it here ;

www.fayeglasgow.co.uk

Err, do you think someone on high is trying to tell me something ? That's the second lady I've buddied who is blonde, slim and gorgeous. Grrr. Anyway, Faye and Hannah are off to Heathrow on their first tour together this week, so all the very best ladies, 'ave it large and enjoy yourselves. :)

Finally, the appointment has come through; mammogram on the 13th followed by an appointment with a consultant on the 15th. I'm not scared, not at all. A big strapping lassie like myself ?

I'm petrified.

LL xx

Tribune and Tours

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Awards and Antagonists

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Schooling, socials and smashing times

I think I'm turning into my Mother. Not the nauseatingly annoying bit, but I hear myself say things and it's like turning the wheels of time backwards 25 years.

Such gems as ;

"I'll give you a real reason to cry in a minute".

or

"Don't come crying to me when you've been knocked from your bike and killed because you wouldn't wear the reflective arm bands."

If some kind soul could email me a link to the current suggested school curriculum I'd be very grateful because I think the education system has a lot to answer for. Take last week for example. I committed the horrid atrocity of actually asking my little treasure to tidy her room unaided, since I had already brought the cleaning equivalent of a JCB through it twice. Cue an unmerciful row which culminated in tiny hands being applied firmly to hips and then the clincher ;

"I may be small but I have a voice and I deserve to be heard."

Well, suffice to say that the only voice to be heard in the immediate aftermath was mine, at a pitch and a volume that had my kitties diving for cover in the broom cupboard.

*sigh*

Last Thursday I thoroughly enjoyed an overnight with Mr F, we had food to die for and he bought me a beautiful pair of earrings for Christmas. It just goes to show how much I trust him, one of the earrings went straight through but the other ear has semi healed over. So I took a large mouthful of wine ;

"Right, just do it."

"Are you sure ?"

"Aye".

Many howls later and we still couldn't manage it so I need to get that one pierced again. Oh joy. Anyway, the next day we were both attending a social lunch which was superb. Beautiful food and the best of craic. Big Rick was there too and I think he was a little nervous as it was his first social but as it was a daytime meet it was relatively civilised, the next one will be a haze of doubles, hehe. The last time I was in Aberdeen Rick gave me a pressie and I've attached a picture. It's a name badge which says " Laura Lee, 5* Tour Guide ". How cool is that ? I wore it with pride at the social and will do so at future events too. :)

From the social I sprinted home, did a handstand in the shower and set off to meet Mr A for the weekend. I have long made it my mission to put the "f" back into sex, by which I mean fun. Why does it have to be so goddamn serious ? Some people approach bedroom olympics like a military operation. The second part of that mission is to bring a sense of perspective back into "Senior Management" types. I have very happy memories of perching on an armchair in Glasgow one night with my client seated at my feet. He was using management speak and waxing lyrical about the expenditure for his latest project, so I kicked him over.

"Oh my God, did you just kick me over ?"

"I did, yep."

"No-one has dared to give me cheek for years, let alone kick me. Thank you."

So back to Mr A. We were enjoying champagne and strawberries when he started to wind me up. ( He does it very well. ) The closest thing to hand was a large scatter cushion so it was duly fired in his general direction, but missed, and instead took out several glass tumblers. Now, most people would have stopped there but for all his management training he has obviously glossed over the chapter on "When to concede defeat," and so it went on until neither of us had any energy left.

It was a wonderful weekend which we both thoroughly enjoyed. :)

This week sees me heading off to Dundee on Wednesday and Thursday before landing in Edinburgh on Friday. I shall speak to you from there.

LL xx

Studies, Santa and Socials

Good evening and greetings from deepest darkest Ayrshire from behind a pile of A4 paper which resembles the inbox at the AOL complaints department. I have been very busy completing my latest assignment tonight because it's due by mid-day tomorrow. All is peaceful and quiet and my boy cat is curled up beside me fellating himself in a nonchalant manner. I suppose it's revenge for my playing cat porn on You - tube earlier which resulted in his sprinting for the door. I know, I'm very mean.

The "C" word is almost upon us and although I love spending time with my loved ones and chilling out, the mayhem in the lead up to it is a pain in my curvaceous backside. This year my little treasure has decided she'd like Santa to bring her ( inter alia ) a guitar. I could have cried, not least because my Dad rather helpfully offered to get her a drum kit to go with it. I could hear the smile in his voice when he said it but it didn't stop the almost unbearable desire to throttle him.

Once my assignment is submitted it's a quick metamorph from me, the tracksuit clad, pale and very uninteresting student to my far more glamorous alter-ego. I have it down to a fine art and can do the total transformation in an hour. On Thursday night I am meeting Mr F for an overnight and looking forward to it immensely. We always have the best of craic and I think I'll wear "that" dress which means I can't bend over at all, well, not until we get back to the bedroom anyway, hehe.

Friday afternoon and I'm off to a social lunch in Glasgow with other lewdies from the industry and it will be brilliant to catch up with my friends. Straight from there I'm into a taxi and off to meet Mr A for the weekend, another of my guys who always spoils me rotten. I'm a lucky, lucky girl when I think about the regular clients I have.

On that happy note I'm going back to the books and to hoosh my porn cat from the sofa.

Nite,

LL xx

Catalonia, Christmas and Cloak and Dagger

So I'm off to Spain tomorrow for a week with Mr F and I can't wait, I'm looking out of my window whilst doing this blog and it's chucking it down with people battling against high winds with inside-out umbrellas, bleurgh. I'm looking forward to leaving my books behind and having a care free time strolling about in the heat. Tonight will be a combination of packing and last minute beauty treats.

When I come back I have a lot to do, this year's accounts need to be in by Oct 31st and I also have a heavy study schedule ahead too. Well you know what they say, the devil makes work for idle hands. ;)

I'm starting the planning process for this year's ladies night for Christmas too, it should be a lot of fun. I'm looking at locations in Edinburgh because it will make it easier for ladies from Aberdeen and Dundee to join us. I had toyed with the idea of getting a "special Santa", but can you imagine 10 to 15 well oiled escorts and a stripper ? They'll eat the poor guy alive !!! Last year was good but the location for our meal had VERY loud music and personally I can't stand having to shout to make myself heard so I'll choose more carefully this year and visit the location firstly.

In the meantime there are a couple of us floozies will be attending a very special meeting of our own quite soon and I will let you know more about it afterwards. Sorry to be so cloak and dagger but you'll appreciate why when I spill the beans. ;)

So ciao for now and I'll catch up with you when I get back.

LL xx