Astral Asbos

Oh good grief, I’m disintegrating and I’ve only been back from holiday a few days.  I got psychically mugged at the pub the other night and then last night I went on a total bender on the astral.  Lucid dreaming doesn’t half take it out of you.  I can’t complain as it was fecking awesome in every witch way but really I’m shattered and aching all over and I’m half-expecting the psychic police to come  banging at the door any moment and issue me with a warning.  Can you get an astral ASBO? 

The house is mayhem. The bags are still in the hall, half-emptied; dirty clothes in clumps making their way slowly towards the washing machine. Random men keep appearing at the door and asking random things or giving me random parcels and really I haven’t a clue what they want as the dogs are barking so loudly and my head is in another time entirely.  So I’m smiling and signing and probably selling my soul or buying a time-share in Milton Keynes or something.  My PC is behaving like a memory-challenged OAP and I’ve got my iPod on shuffle and, as I can’t ever be arsed to organise my music into types, it’s segueing from The Black Eyed Peas to Syd Barrett to The Killers to Hildegard of Bingen.  Every so often Art Giser pops up and warns me that I need to sort out my prosperity mentality (yup, Art, I know, I know - I'm working on it, alright?  Cut me some slack). 

Was I really in Turkey just a few days ago?  That's a surreal thought.  I lived on watermelon and baklava for a week as the hotel’s idea of vegetarian food was cold Brussels sprouts in curry sauce. Yeah, that’s what I thought.  I’m not a fussy eater but there are limits.  Actually I need to start eating a bit more carefully.  One or two foodstuffs a day does not a balanced diet make.  Yesterday was golden beetroot and Turkish delight; today it’s carrots and Victoria plums. 

Anyhow. Onwards. The SP needs a walk – I can see him out of the window tugging desperately at a long bramble.  Bless his heart, he’s obviously trying to weed the garden – but it’s past redemption.  James has gone to Taunton and Adrian is in St Albans. I’m supposed to be polishing off my columns but they’re all blurring into one.  Maybe I’ll try out Barbara Ford-Hammond’s new meditation download – Power Nap.  Or could I just be totally decadent and go back to the astral for a gentle afternoon frolic?

Oh, and I nearly forgot… The Sea Bands behaved impeccably and, despite long transfers along windy roads, neither James nor I felt remotely sick (despite inhaling industrial quantities of sweets courtesy of CandyKing).  I will be posting off bands to Sage, Jane and Solange... 

PS- this is hilarious - if you Google "Astral Asbo" you find a ton of pictures of Asbo Jack.  Fact. 

Going, going, gone...

So.  Can’t quite believe we’re actually going off on holiday.  In an hour. A proper family holiday. A package holiday, for pity’s sake, in a proper hotel.  Well…it looks okay from the pictures on the web but those are probably twenty years old. Or photo-shopped.

Anyhow. Whatever. Who cares?  I have just packed the following:

·         Swimsuits (James informs me that I swim like Asbo and so he is going to teach me to swim ‘properly’. ‘Like an otter, Mum.’  An otter?  Fair enough.  Without the fish breath, I hope.
·         Gym kit. Yes, there’s a gym at the hotel.  If it gets too hot outside I can just turn my usual routine around and go sit on an exercise bike to cool down. Sensible, huh?
·         Kindle (loaded and dangerous) plus three paper books.  The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoot (have saved this for positively aeons - it had better deliver); The Neurotourist (seemed suitable); The Dervish House (cos one needs a bit of frolic, right?).
·         iPod. With meditations from the divine Barbara Ford-Hammond.  I am still waiting to discover my past lives and my future lives because every time I listen to them, I fall asleep.  Maybe I just don’t have any?  No past, no future – just right now eh?  Music?  The usual suspects - though it really riles me that some people don’t put stuff out there for download. *grr*
·         Tarot pack and pendulum.  Viv convinced me this combo would work well and I think she’s right. The runes are too chilly and the I Ching is too heavy. I can also use the pendulum to dowse food for dodgy bacteria and to freak traders out while haggling. 
·         Sunbelievable "self-tan".  Self-tan?  Fake tan, FAKE tan. May be fake but is good.
·         Notebooks. Moleskines. Two
·         DermaquestSkin Therapy – advanced B5 serum. Have been road-testing this and it’s good stuff.  Light and non-sticky for hot places too…(as in hot countries, not hot bits of body…doh!). 
·         My IRISH BUSH beach bag from Israel (thanks, Baram!).  Totally recycled. Makes me laugh.
·         A slinky black maxi-dress.  NO idea why I bought this as I will most likely never wear it. But I like the idea of it.
·         Cut-off jean shorts.  Many black tops.  Assorted underwear.  Reebok fitflops.
·         Sunglasses.  Ray-bans bought in Miami airport twenty years ago.
·         AromatherapyAssociates diffuser and Relax oil. I know it’s weird but hotel rooms often smell funny.  And yeah, smart-asses, I've got an adaptor..
·         Hats.  Trusty white cowboy job plus my Dead Sea peaked cap.
·         Much sunscreen.

Sorted.  Have I forgotten anything?  Probably.  Notice anything missing from that list?  Yeah, I'm not taking my laptop. James says I'm 'addicted' and I fear he may be right.  So, with a deep gulp, I am leaving it behind.  I shall miss you all...and will look forward to hearing your tales (of mad Ulysses?) when I return.. Happy hunting, brigands... :)

Oh, Asbo and the SP?  They're sorted too.. our dogsitters have landed and we have already been forgotten... :)

In praise of my (not Liz Jones') GP surgery

I made a solemn promise to myself that I would not, under any circumstances, blog about Liz Jones again.  And here I am breaking that promise.  Why?  Because once again it seems she is running down my home town – once again totally unfairly – and I’m fed up of it. 

This time it’s our GP surgery that gets it in the neck.  Apparently they didn’t jump and give her an instant appointment when she demanded jabs for her trip to Somalia.  Let’s just bear in mind she isn’t their patient: she has a GP, a private one in London (in Chelsea, just so we’re assured it really is a nice smart expensive one).  She also tells us (not quite sure why) that she has a private gynaecologist and two, yup, two therapists. Somewhere along the line I must have missed something because, last time I looked, she was moaning she was totally broke…but hey ho.  This is Liz Jones LaLa land, right?  Oh, and let’s also bear in mind that, given few Exmoor residents whizz off to Somalia at the drop of a hat, they very probably didn’t have the vaccine in stock. 

But anyhow - other people have tried to explain the general workings of the NHS to her.  I want to talk about this particular surgery.  Like most NHS practices, it's busy, hugely busy.  It covers a huge geographical swathe of Exmoor.  The phones ring pretty much non-stop yet the receptionists are unfailingly polite and helpful, as are all the staff.   These guys have looked after my family unstintingly since we moved to Exmoor 13 years ago. They have gently held my hand through bouts of depression (yup, I'm one of those ghastly people who are a total drain on society cos of my feeble-minded mental illness); they have helped my son  (oh, sorry, my "snotty kid") grow up fit and strong.  My husband is sickeningly healthy but, even so, they haul him in every so often and check him out to make sure he stays that way.  

I know these people and they are not just consummate professionals, they are good people.  All of them.  They work damn hard and they don’t deserve to be ridiculed, patronised and blamed by a spoiled brat of a journalist.  The receptionists are not "jobsworths" – far from it.  They have to make tough, informed judgment calls every moment of the day. They err on the side of caution too.  When I was bitten by my dog, I phoned up to check if I needed a jab at some point: the receptionist demanded I went in immediately to have it checked out. When my son woke up with Bell’s palsy, they saw him straight away and then packed him off to hospital for tests (turned out he had Lyme Disease). Yet..hmm.. they didn’t jump when Liz stamped her foot and demanded her travel jab?  I wonder why? 

I’m sick of it.  Pun intended.  Really sick to the stomach with it.  I know Liz Jones wants to get out of Brushford but her house is still on the market so she’s stuck with us and, more’s the pity, we’re stuck with her.  I could tell you stories about her which would make your toes curl but – you know what? – I can keep my mouth shut.  Unlike Liz Jones, I try to think about the effect my words have on other people.

While she’s prattling on about her “rock star” I leave well alone.  Though I would just say nobody round here has seen him – no, not even her next-door neighbours.  But, anyway, Liz, you just keep talking about “him” and your trips to Italy, festivals, whatever. Keep wittering on about your dogs  pissing all over the furniture. Keep prattling on about your face-lift and your designer clothes and your ‘issues’.  Just leave your slanted, prejudiced view of my home-town out of your warped life-view and shut the feck up about the decent hard-working people in my health centre.

Btw, on a lighter note, there’s a hilarious satire of Liz Jones on Twitter, raising money for Somalia – follow @LizJonesSomalia

Also,  while I'm here, please will someone, anyone, buy her house?  Look, I’ll even provide a link.  Actually it is stunningly lovely.  And no, btw, I’m not a stalker! I knew it before she moved in ...

It's okay, Liz, I don't need thanking for the free ad!  But, if anyone buys it through seeing it here, donate my 'finder's fee' to Somalia, eh?   

Booksurfers - with David Gatward

So, James and I might just be fighting over my Kindle on holiday.  David Gatward sent me the first two ebooks in his Booksurfers series to road-test and James was the obvious reviewer.  He loved them (see his reviews below) but, unfortunately, he also fell in love with my Kindle.  Unseemly tussles may ensue. 

But anyhow, back to Mr Gatward.  I like this guy.  He’s unstarry and down-to-earth, which is a huge blessing (I can’t tell you how many published authors I've unfollowed on Twitter for being totally and completely up themselves.  Word to the wise: don’t let your ego run naked on Twitter, guys and gals – it’s icky).  He usually writes YA horror and I have a penchant for a juicy dose of gore – actually, the more I think about it, the more I have in common with teenage boys, which is really very alarming.  Anyhow, check out The Dead series – splattered brains galore.

However, Booksurfers isn’t horror.  It’s really quite a neat little concept – a quest to find objects inside classic (existing) children’s books.  The series is only available in e-format because it relies on hyperlinks that jump you from the story to the relevant place in the original text.  Oh hell, I’m making a pig’s ear of this…I’ll hand over to David:

DG: From the off, the idea of Booksurfers was to give the reader an interactive experience with the story as well as introduce them to classic children's fiction. harnessing the functionality of Kindle allowed us to do that really well. There you are, rushing along with Jake and the rest, exploring Treasure Island or Oz or whatever, when you come across a hyperlink and can, if you want, click on it and zip over to the original text. That way, you get to find out about how the original book feels and reads. Fab or what?

Fab indeed.  However, let it be said, James (who is click-happy, didn’t even notice the hyperlinks on Kindle)...  But he loved the books anyhow. At this point, I’ll let James take over and tell you about the first two titles.

Booksurfers:Treasure Island

This book is all about four kids (Becca, Jake, Ryan and Harriet) who didn’t even know each other before suddenly being forced together to work for a madman called Crookshanks. Crookshanks has invented a machine in which he is able to delve into books and see what it is really like in the book. But what he really wants is for the kids to do his dirty work for him. They have to go into the stories and take out the special objects that Crookshanks desires.

In the first book they have to go to Treasure Island, and get out the treasure map without it disturbing the whole story. They didn’t actually realise this to begin with so they took it out right at the beginning because they thought they could get away with it. They didn’t of course because they left Blind Pugh still alive which he shouldn’t have been at that point in the story. So, realising their mistake, they take the treasure map back and put it back in the treasure chest.

Most of the rest of the story runs along with the real Treasure Island story.  The solution they find to getting the treasure map out is for Harriet to copy it out perfectly onto a piece of paper.

I really enjoyed this story.  I thought it was a fun read and most of it went really well. There was one bit right at the beginning I didn’t really understand - when he said about how Jake was abducted.  Maybe he should have said a bit about the other characters -  like how it turns out that Ryan is a whizz at computers or that Becca is really really into fashion and how Harriet is really into horror films and drawing.  I thought that maybe he could have introduced them earlier and have a longer beginning.  But other than that I thought it was a really good read and I would recommend it to some of my friends.

Booksurfers: TheWonderful Wizard of Oz

This book was as good as the other one and even longer which certainly added more to it. It’s about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by Frank Baum, as first published in 1900.  But back to the Booksurfers book…

I thought that it was a really good book because it felt like the author was telling us more about the characters. Also instead of watching the book from the side the four friends had to play the main roles which I thought told us more about them and what they really are like inside. For example Becca is Dorothy and that brings her out of her shell a lot more than in the first book where she was just obsessed with herself.  In this one there are flickers when she really shows how selfish she is – it’s more subtle.  

Jake is the scarecrow in this book which really works out well. Jake was also the first person to realise that they should dress up and be the characters instead of following the characters round. Crookshanks wants the kids to get back Dorothy’s ruby slippers but they are only ruby in the film, not in the book.  So they are really silver slippers.

Ryan is the tin man which really suits him as you figure he really wants to be someone courageous. Ryan has always been a whizz at computers and all that and I think that the author is trying to hint that he didn’t have many friends at his old school, so he really suits the tin man. Harriet is the friendly lion but I am not sure that is quite such a good fit as the others because Harriet is a dark and mystical girl and you associate the friendly lion with happiness and everything nice.

I really enjoyed these two books.  I thought they were well written (although they are pretty short).  Then again, you get the original book as well on the e-book.  I think that because the author talks a little bit about Robin Hood, that that will be the next adventure. I hope so – I really think he should write more.

EJ: Soo, David, are there going to be more?

DG: We've got two more coming out this year; Robin Hood and A Christmas Carol. How many is impossible to answer, and even if I knew I wouldn't be about to give such a juicy piece of info away! There's so much we want to do with this, so many ideas, possibilities, that we're just holding on tight and seeing what happens. So no final number!”

EJ: How did you pick the books? 
DG: We wanted books that were widely regarded and known as classics, ones that most readers would go, "Hey, I think I know that one". The funny thing is, most of us do know the stories, but probably haven't read the originals. And I'm one of those! Treasure Island is now one of my favourite books ever. And with Oz, I had no idea that the slippers were silver in the book! [nor did I] So that's how we've been choosing them; books that people would probably know about, that they would want to find out about, and which are, to our mind, fantastic fun to read.

EJ: Are you luring children into reading ‘literature’ almost by sleight of hand?
DG: We're trying to give them a great, fun, exciting and unique story packed with adventure and populated by fab, fun, crazy, interesting characters. And if they start discovering the classics, too, all the better.

EJ: Any idea of jazzing them up even further?  Kindle is a pretty limited format but you could do amazing things with, say, iPad?
DG: The concept of Booksurfers is huge. Many's the night I find it impossible to sleep because of the possibilities it presents. We'll just have to see, won't we?

We will indeed. 

Beware sour-faced gurus

You know what really gets my goat?  Sanctimonious spiritual people.  Po-faced gurus.  Judgmental New Agers.  Well,  okay, there are more but that'll do for now.  See, what gives anyone the right to tell you (or me) what to do?  There’s a lot of wisdom out there, for sure, but once someone starts believing they’re the only one who’s right, that there’s only One Way and that way just happens to be theirs, I start whistling and examining my toenails.  You know how I feel about religion but, to be fair, there’s an awful lot of crap being spouted in ‘New Age’ or holistic circles too. 

Which is why Barbara Ford-Hammond delights me.  I met her on Twitter (at least I think so, I forget) and she describes herself as ‘a holistic therapist and muse’ which would, under normal circumstances, make me narrow my eyes and pick up my foot.  But she’s alright, is Barbara.  She doesn’t take herself too seriously; she has a good sense of humour (and, see, I rather think a real guru would have a blasted good – if not nigh-on evil – sense of humour). She’s just published a book called The Psychic Way – Fine-tuning your Intuition and, if you’re remotely interested in a world beyond cupcakes and shoes – it’s well worth reading. ‘I believe that we all have natural but often hidden or ignored abilities and talents that are tucked away in our psyches,’ she says.
‘You are responsible for what goes on in your mind. Only you. Others might try to influence you but unless drugs or brain-washing are involved you have the ultimate control of you. When you accept full awareness of yourself and the power within your own mind, practically anything is achievable. The only limitations are those imposed by you.’

Read that again, will you?  See, I agree with that wholeheartedly.  I really do. Whether you do or not is, of course, entirely up to you..  ;)

I actually think the title of this book is a little misleading or maybe it’s just a little offputting.  Psychic sounds alarm bells for a lot of people but really it’s only science we can’t quite measure yet.  As Barbara says, reassuringly (bless her): ‘We will remove the weird, the wacky and the woo-woo without losing the magic and charm available to you in your inner and outer world.’

If you’ve ever wondered about chakras or auras; hypnosis or meditation; clairvoyance and its cousins; spirit guides and angels; cosmic attraction; past life regression or even future life progression, this is your primer.  It doesn’t preach and it doesn’t patronise. Just gives you a matter-of-fact lowdown on the airy-fairy stuff.  Well, that's my feeling.

I gulped this book down like a long cool glass of water.  Yes, I already knew most of the stuff in it, but I like the slant Barbara gives to familiar material.  I’m now slowly re-reading it, trying out some of the meditations, pausing to let some of the images and thoughts settle in my head.  My only gripe about this was that it didn’t come with a CD of the meditations. But then it was pointed out to me that you can get downloads of a fair few of Barbara's meditations at her website: here.
And you can read her blog here...
Let's end with some quotes from the book.  If these please you, or inspire you or irritate the hell out of you, you would probably like to read this book!  If they just leave you cold, then move on...

'It's all make believe, isn't it?'  Marilyn Monroe

'Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.' Lewis Carroll in Alice in Wonderland.

'Since everything is in our heads, we had better not lose them.' Coco Chanel.

'All serious daring starts from within.'  Joan Baez

'Life is like an ever-shifting kaleidoscope - a slight change, and all patterns alter.' Sharon Salzberg.

'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backward.' Lewis Carroll.

'Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future.' Niels Bohr.

Snogging is good for you

So I walk in and the phone is ringing. It’s BBC Somerset . Could I talk to Emma Britton about snogging? Eh what?
‘It’s National Kissing Day and apparently one in five married people go without kissing their partners in a week.’
Not entirely sure why they consider me a suitable expert on this (particularly since I haven't even seen my husband this week so far!)but hey, Emma is always a great laugh so why not?
And, actually, as she started asking me about kissing, I started remembering all these weird little facts about how good it is for you. For example, did you know:
· kissing helps prevent tooth decay by increasing saliva? Mind you, so does chewing gum.
· kissing helps build up your immunity by swapping germs with someone else? Mind you, you can achieve the same effect by not washing your hands after using a public lavatory.
· kissing helps reduce allergies by – umm, something to do with raising Ig levels…can’t quite remember. Beauty of this kind of radio is that it’s all done and dusted in three minutes and nobody ever picks you up on the detail.

· kissing exercises your facial muscles? Then again, so does gurning.
· kissing burns calories? Not sure how I know this fact but apparently a 20 minute snogging session (chaste pecks don’t do it) burns 40 kcals. Okay, so that’s not a huge amount but if you factor in that while you’re kissing you’re not eating, it might be worth considering.

Above all, of course, kissing is about connecting, bonding, about trust - about letting someone into your personal space. It’s part of the touch factor and, as humans, we need touch just as much as we need food and drink. Without it, we suffer sensory starvation. Pretty well all animals kiss in one way or other...even insects rub bits of exo-skeleton.  Though - and did you know this - apparently humans are the only creatures that get aroused through nipple manipulation?

Anyhow. I sort of surprised myself with this sudden burst of knowledge and, despite for some totally inexplicable reason talking in a cod Midlands accent, figured I was doing quite well. So I looked out the window and wondered what kind of bird was perched on the vicar’s roof while letting my voice go on auto-pilot. Now it’s always a mistake to let your guard down when talking on media and, to my horror, I “came to” to hear myself wittering on about kissing the Soul Puppy more than my husband because he had a softer head. Oh ye gods.

Fortunately it ended soon after that. The producer was probably frantically making the quick hand across the throat ‘cut it’gesture.

But, as I walked the SP in Burridge Woods afterwards, it got me thinking. When I told Emma the 40 kcals in 20 minutes nugget, she said, ‘I don’t think I’ve had a twenty minute snog since I was fourteen.’
And, you know what, I don’t think I have either. Well, hmm, actually, I was about seventeen and I was going out with this boy who was just THE best kisser ever. We would just snog and snog and snog until my lips actually got sore and I would dissolve off his couch like a pat of molten butter. But then, see, we weren’t having sex.
Do any of you kiss for absolutely ages? Just kiss? If you do, I’m severely envious.

By the way. I just checked and, you know, National Kissing Day was back in July. Huh?

Ah whatever....I was going to share some of my favourite kissing songs to get you in the mood...but YouTube is being petulant...  try the links instead...

http://youtu.be/3YcNzHOBmk8 (is cute)
http://youtu.be/gl6jq38K3-M (is classic)
http://youtu.be/t5Sd5c4o9UM (is out of this world...so to speak)

Booking holidays is easy - once you decide where to go

We’re going on holiday. Official. After weeks of rows and dark silences we finally agreed that the mid-point between Egypt and Belgium lies in Turkey. So yesterday, after Adrian headed off to the Great British Beer Festival (work, hard work, you know) and I dropped James off to stay with a friend, I marched into the travel agents. Listened to a couple discuss their requirements at huge length for a hugely long period of time. In fact, wrote a feature in the time it took them to decide that, no, Grand Bahama wasn’t quite right for their requirements. Ye Gods. Eventually they left with a swathe of brochures and I slid into the rather overwarm seat the chap had vacated.

‘Can I help you,’ said "Alison" (she had a badge). I could feel the deep soul weariness coming off her in waves but, bless her heart, she had a brave sweet smile.

‘I’m sure you can,’ I said brightly. ‘Package for three for a week, best deal you’ve got.’

‘Leaving?’

‘Friday. Or, at latest, Monday.’

'Crikey. Um, okay.’

She pulled up some details. ‘Um, there’s something to Turkey..’

‘Turkey’s fine.’
She looked suspicious. Read off a few details.
‘That sounds fine,’ I said.
Looked really suspicious. Like nothing in her life is ever that easy.
‘Honestly. As long as it’s got a pool and a beach and isn’t rat infested, it’s fine,’ I reassured her.
‘Well. But hang on…’
Her professional pride was piqued now. She clicked a few more times. ‘Wow. That’s a good deal. It’s all-inclusive, right by the beach…’

I peered over her shoulder. Saw the magic word ‘spa’. ‘Fabulous. We’ll take it.’
‘But, but….’
Bless her, she pointed out all the disadvantages.
Like we’d be sharing a room (no, not with a family of five from Birmingham, you daft numpties). Like the spa was probably a manky sauna and an ancient masseuse with arthritic fingers.
Like the beach wasn’t pure white sand but fine dust-coloured shingle.

‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ I reassured her. ‘It’s great. I like dust-coloured.’

‘The food and drink service isn’t 24-hour,’ she said, desperately.

‘Er, that’s fine. We won’t want to eat 24-hours a day.’
‘Some people don’t like that.’
I bet.
‘Right, let’s book this, huh?’ I laid our passports in front of her and plonked my credit card firmly on top.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. Let’s just get this done and, er, dusted.’

So, there we have it. We’re heading off on Monday. Since then Alison, bless her, has rung me three times to point out small details I may have overlooked. I think we’re becoming new best friends. Actually I think she’s still deeply perplexed that anyone can book a holiday in five minutes.

Of course, this may backfire horribly. I haven’t done this kind of package holiday since I was ten. But, hey ho, it will be an experience.

Now then. Promo time. I have ten ton of sun-cream and my trusty Sun Believable self-tan (seriously, this stuff is good, really good). I also have nice new non-sweaty Sea-Bands.

You know these? They’re acupressure bands – like mini-sweat-bands with a pressure stud sewn inside that, if you position it correctly (it’s not hard) presses the Nei-Kuan acupressure point (which relieves nausea and vomiting). Our chemist recommended them when James was getting seriously carsick a few years back and, by heck, they work a treat on him. Research has generally been into their uses post-operatively but, for me, the proof of the pudding was in the not throwing up of said pudding. I get a bit travelsick in the back of a car or on buses, so figure I’ll play safe and take a set for myself too.

My only quibble is aesthetic. The colour choices are pretty glum. Adult ones come in Atlantic Ocean grey. Children’s come in faded pink, faded blue etc. C’mon Sea-Bands, jazz ‘em up a bit. Get funky – chic black (or skull-encrusted for a Goth vibe?); fluoro with daisies for the festival crowd; rainbows; kittens; chic stripes….use your imaginations!

Anyhow, Sea-Bands got in touch, I said I was already a fan and, lo and behold, I have a few spare pairs to give away…mainly children’s but think there’s an adult pair left too. If you’d like ‘em, let me know (no need for your own personal vomiting stories – we will use the trusty sunhat from Israel to pick the winners).