The big name change

I am quite literally in the process of splitting myself in half.

Zuzula will continue to be the journalist, the professional career woman yada yada, while Mrs MC will be the wife, the friend, perhaps one day the mother.

The difficulty is deciding which bits of my online life are my own, and which belong to work. Facebook I consider to be private, so there I have become Mrs MC. Twitter is a tricky because, while I don't strictly use it for work, people do follow me on it as a result of work.

And then there's the plethora of personal email accounts... Should gmail be for work and hotmail for friends, or vice versa?

I'm not looking forward to changing my bank account either. I've already had to cancel my ATM card once this week because of fraud, i don't think they will be very pleased when I tell them I need yet another new card in my new name.

It's all very confusing.

In other news a friend and I have started podcasting! It's such fun, we really love it. It's very early days and we're after as much feedback as we can get so drop me an email if you fancy lending me your ears.....

Introducing Mrs MC

So much has happened since my last post. Most importantly of all, I am now a married woman! Those of you who have followed my exploits over the years will no doubt be as surprised as I am that I finally have a ring on my finger.

We had the perfect wedding weekend down in Dorset complete with friends, family and the world's largest hog roast ('people will never eat all that food!' said the lady who provided it. 'you haven't met my guests,' I replied. Sure enough, it was all gone in less than 2 hours. Including the 2 extra legs).

As for the dress - ah, the dress. It was truly amazing to float around in such an exquisite garment all day, even if my bridesmaids had to accompany me to the loos to help hold it all up (they may disagree).

We're off on our honeymoon proper in about 6 weeks but managed to squeeze in a 'minimoon' in Dorset from which I have just returned. It was glorious. The booze flowed and I ate my own weight in, well, whatever i fancied. I am actually quite looking forward to a week of healthy living - i must have pure champagne running through my veins and am probably about 90% pork by now.

I'm still getting used to referring to MC as my husband. Everytime I say it I expect people to laugh incredulously and say 'your what?!' - it's such a novelty.

I am keeping my maiden name for work purposes (which is another blog post in itself) but am Mrs MC in all other walks of life. Really must work on my signature though. My two year old niece could come up with something neater than I have managed thus far.

So yes - so far so good on the marriage front. Just need to figure out how we're going to pay for it all...

Fathers' day

It sucks when you don't have a dad.

That is all.

Agent z reporting for duty

Just back from a rather marvellous hen do. It involved 4 days, 2 countries and a veritable vat of vino.

Bridesmaids A and J did me proud. The party had a secret agent theme which saw me completing assignments along the way. It all began at st pancras with sushi and pink champagne on the eurostar to Paris.

God, I love Paris. It feels so easy to get around, and the food, the wine is so wonderful. We even had salads that arrived in bowls made out of bread. How cool is that? I cannot wait to go back.

Back in London we met more friends at the eurostar champagne bar where we quaffed yet more bubbles before heading to riotous karaoke. I have a new found respect for popstrels like katy perry and mika. It's not as easy as it sounds, belting out those tunes.

I think I'm still recovering. I'm due to have blood tests tomorrow - there's probably more wine than platelets inside me at the moment.

Peace & love

My name is zuzula and I am an aggressive driver. I admit it. Put me behind a steering wheel and out comes my inner Italian cab driver. I swoop in and out of lanes, swear and beep at slow motorists and I have been know to cut the change from amber to red a bit fine at quiet traffic lights when I'm in a hurry.

I'm not saying it's right. But for me, my car is something that will get me from A to B in the most efficient way possible and I don't like things that get in the way of that. I think this is what comes of learning to drive in London. We're all the same.

Nobody will let you out unless you push your way in, in this congested race track we call the capital - and before long you realize that's just the way the cookie crumbles and get on with it.

Something has happened to me this weekend though. I've had a blissful couple of days lazing around on a south coast beach with my beloved and the journey home was quite possibly the calmest I have ever had. I didn't complain once about the nose-to-tail traffic on the London-bound motorway. I practically stopped the car in order to let someone join the M3 from a sliproad.

A lost couple at the garage asked me for directions towards the city and I let them follow me for miles, until they knew were they were. I even pulled over to wait for them when they were a bit slow crossing a roundabout.

I wasn't in the mood for my favourite game of undercutting those who insist on blocking the middle lanes without getting anywhere near the speed limit. when a child leaning out of a passing car window gave me a grin, I smiled back. I actually found myself waving at her.

What the fuck is happening to me? Must rediscover my inner hardbitch before scary as hell job interview on Thursday. I can't even believe I've got this far but they'll chew me up and spit me out if they spot a chink in the armour. Gulp.

Sales talk

I know times are hard. Even elton john is down to his last £175m, poor chap. If he loses much more he might have to get his hands dirty with some sort of publicity stunt. He could always send His Partner David Furnish out to the stables I suppose (speaking of which, I discovered today that peter Andre's album is due out next month. Hmmm).

Alternatively, he could pimp himself out to some completely inappropriate ad campaign. After all, most of his generation is at it. We've got iggy pop flogging car insurance - I'm sure he's a nice enough guy but there is the tiny matter of his years of drug abuse, self harm and general batshit craziness. All very rock n roll but would you ever get in a car with him? Hell no.

Then there's johnny rotten, the legendary sex pistol... currently starring in tv commercials for butter here in the uk. Very anarchic, johnny, well done. Again, nothing against him personally but the closest to food I can imagine him being anywhere near is the roached end of a camberwell carrot (one for the withnail fans).

What next? Pete doherty as the face of pampers? Amy winehouse peddling slimfast? Who's coming up with all these ideas anyway? The recession really does have a lot to answer for.

Life is a full time job

This morning I wrote a list of all the personal admin I need to get done. Most of it is utterly tedious and yet there's a staggering amount of it.

The list includes joyous treasures such as getting a new parking permit (which I really must do this week or my car will be toast) and sorting out a savings account (not that I have much in the way of savings. But there's got to be something better than the 0.2% interest offered by my current bank. Weirdly it's nowhere near the rate they're charging for my overdraft).

Then there's registering with a local doctor - 14 years after leaving the parental home I've decided that I no longer need my GP to be over an hour's drive away.

Especially since my last encounter during which they left me in the wrong waiting room for 90 minutes then shouted at me for missing my appointment and said I couldn't have another.

After a very heated exchange I finally got to see one of the doctors, a disapproving chap who told me that my blood pressure was high. I asked him whether his staff had that effect on all his patients. It didn't go down very well.

I also need to watch a film that I rented months ago (I could probably have made it myself by now with the money I've spent on it)... And then cancel my subscription to said DVD rental firm. I'm clearly not making the most of it.

The list goes on. And it doesn't include wedding related tasks, which seem to require a separate volume of their own.

How am I supposed to fit in a 40hr working week?