I was just in Australia for the first time ever to launch Project D with Dannii. First Sydney, then Melbourne. It was brilliant, I loved it, and love how happy the Aussie kids are all the time! See, sunshine really does make you happier...oh, and having the sea on hand...and fit Aussie boys with 6 packs running around the place...and the best coffee EVER. I did my first ever live tv shows much to Dannii's terror, as given my pretty atrocious case of Terrets, she was convinced I would swear live on air. She even tried to persuade the producers to put a 5" delay on me....oh yea of little faith I say, I didn't drop the F bomb once! (this is part of my new Aussie vocab. F-bomb, and clacker. Answers on a postcard if you know what a clacker is). We even spent a couple of days filming Project Runway...and having the worst giggles ever while we did it...I don't know why girls make other girls giggle so much, but I am sure we drive boys insane! Anyway, I will be returning to Oz as I feel I could make this home 2, and they seem to love a bit of British filth....better get that garden shed cleaned up Dan!xx

My mother-in-law finally spoke up this Christmas to mention my frequent swearing…it is true, I swear, a lot. And she also inferred that before Mr PB met me, he was a good little South African boy who rarely swore (hmmm, yet to be convinced.). Now we both say the F word at least once a sentence. It is awful, and I admit that, and yet to me it is one of the few words that I feel really truly gets my point across. In the UK I don’t think twice about it, but I do think it is a very British thing. In SA, I found myself becoming increasingly aware of my foul mouthed tirades, and half way through most sentences would find myself apologising to whoever was listening to me. But then someone told me that for me to stop swearing would change the fundamentals of who I was, that it worked for me and was amusing. Wow. That made me think that maybe I really should try and find a new way of expressing myself….but nothing quite works like a good old fashioned swear word. So sod it. Onwards and upwards. 

At last, off on holiday!! Just over 24 hours to go and I will be jumping on the plane to South Africa with Mr PB.  So excited, Mr PB will be all happy and excited as he will be returning to his manly African roots and he can aggressively thump his chest, and I can become the meek mild subservient wife for a few weeks. That means shopping on his credit card, having him smother my body in sun cream, and making him pour me glasses of chilled vino. In my mind I see myself returning as a bronzed Amazonian 10 lbs lighter, but in reality I will no doubt return just as I am but a little more sunburnt…but as long as we leave as Tabs and Mr PB and return as Brad and Jen (in my mind…) it will have been a wonderful Christmas! 

So I have to say, I have often scoffed at celebrities who pose on the red carpet, but after the Project D perfume launch at TPS last week, I retract everything I ever thought! Knowing there were going to be paps at the event, I spent an hour practising my pose with everyone in the office and trying to find the stance that would make me look the least fat… we finally agreed on crossing one leg in front of the other to make my legs look like one leg! But then when I got in front of all the cameras, with everyone shouting at me at once, I was so busy trying to smile I forgot to make my legs look like one! After the event, when I looked at the photos, I noticed my legs were slightly spread so they looked like 2 large legs, not one svelte leg.

Note to self. An hour rehearsing leg stance is not enough. Especially when standing next to the very beautiful and petite Miss Dannii Minogue!x

So Mr PB took me to the Kings of Leon concert the other night, and thinking it made me quite cool, I was actually quite excited! But it started to go wrong as soon as we arrived when I noted a large amount of girls wearing hunter wellie boots in the scorching heat with shorts…why?! Surely these are only ‘festival chic’ when it is raining…otherwise I assume they are just bloody uncomfortable and make your feet sweat a lot. And Hyde park for 4 hours does not a festival make. However, we persevered to the middle of the crowd where I tried to summon up a smile…but the aggressive nature of everyone there, the bottles of unknown substances being flung through the air and landing precariously near my head, and the fact that both blokes next to me decided to wee right there next to my flip flopped feet was just too much for me. I kissed Mr PB, said it was nothing personal and fled to the car to listen to the Glee soundtrack. Fact: I am not cool, I don’t like Kings of Leon, and I am much happier at a Bon Jovi concert swaying comfortably in my seat.

So, it’s been a long time, again, but I am back! My first big admission is that I am officially addicted to Glee and cannot believe the first series is over! Whichever genius producer came up with the idea of a new series aimed solely at girls like me and you who live mainly to sing along to 80’s rock ballads is a God. Journey is now my ring tone, and never fails to make me smile. So imagine my delight when the Glee cast turned up at a party I was at on Thursday night...while Mr PB was dribbling over seeded tennis players, I was dreaming of living out my fantasy and rocking it out with Mr Schuster. I tried in vain to get his attention, strut it out on the dance floor, sing loudly...but no, nothing. Instead just a very drunken Mr PB attempting to piggy back me to the car and sing me his very own version of a rock ballad. Not quite the same, but endearing none the less...

I love it when new bags come into the office, I get so excited! This week our autumn/winter 07 collection came in, and it looks fabulous. Not to big myself up or anything, but sometimes I do just look at the bags and think, hmmm, maybe this is fun after all. Creating exactly what you want for every occasion. But then I look at them and can never decide which bag to carry! Aaah, the trials and tribulations of being a girl. Shopping, handbags, wow, it's so tricky.

I have just returned from Miami Beach after a week of people watching and sunbathing. But not one to miss out, I got Mr PB to take me to the hotspot of the moment, Nikki Beach. Wow, that place is scary! Not only did I feel way too sober, but also like I had been thrown back in time to an 80's rave. The place is uber cool - beautifully done, with beds and seating outside, on the beach, and then a kick arse dance floor inside. But it was all rave and hip hop music, and no 80's singalong, or even Dolly Parton thrown in there. My hip gyrating suddenly seemed embarrasingly passe ( I always thought it was quite cool personally) and Mr PB seemed to be struggling more than usual with the 'leg and arm shake manouever'. So we battled on for a considerable amount of time on the sweaty 20 something dance floor, up against the dripping bikini clad bodies of taught youngsters...until we both admitted defeat and went to lie in a crumpled heap in a teepee. My advice? Go, it rocks, but have a few drinks first, and wear as little as you can..and you can always seek solace in the fact that there is bound to be someone older than you in there...somewhere.

So as Mr PB and I departed from our domestic flight in Heathrow the other day, we were shocked to suddenly find ourselves being chased by security guards. Had Mr PB suddenly turned into a secret drug traffiker without my knowledge - I found it hard to believe. Had they discovered the haggis hidden in the bottom of my suitcase - surely that was allowed within the UK?? No, I had 'stepped' over an invisible high secuity line when trying to find my way to the baggage reclaim, and was in breach of some massive security regulations. Next up, the armed police arrived ( I thought highly unnecessary, and obviously gave me the giggles), and this made Mr PB very stern. Our id's were checked, passport numbers noted, and I was not allowed to talk to Mr PB - we were separated. After 40 mins though we had a happy ending and I got my suitcase, my teddy and my haggis back. Really, do the British police think Mr PB and I are the next Mr and Mrs Smith! Fact: I love celebrity and fashion, it goes no deeper than that.