In fact the combination of the open-air jacuzzi, the comfy furnishings and huge wide screen TV and DVD player made it highly tempting to do nothing more than lounge around watching the ducks and swans on the lake or flopping on the sofa with glasses of vino to watch our stash of chick flicks.
However we did eventually venture out to explore the surrounding area.
The Cotswold Water Park covers more than 40 square miles and consists of 147 lakes transformed from old gravel quarries. These shallow banked lagoons have a variety of uses – some are surrounded by residential properties and holiday homes, some boast sailing clubs, others are nature reserves.
Then there is the sandy Cotswold bathing beach which as well as being perfect for a paddle, has a children’s playground, high ropes course, barbecue areas, lakeside walks, a café and a shop.
Just half an hour’s drive from The Landings is Bourton-On-The-Water, a quaint village regularly voted one of the prettiest in England. It is easy to see why. Running through the village is a bridge-spanned stream and many of the houses (aged at least three hundred years old) are built entirely in yellow Cotswold stone.

We whiled away the afternoon visiting the old-fashioned coffee shops, flea markets and gift shops. Then with utter glee we stumbled across an impressive model village, built in the 1930s by local craftsmen and of course proving an excellent backdrop for King Kong/Attack Of The 50ft Woman mock-up photos.

Closer to our lodgings, a mere five minute drive in fact, was Butts Farm which offers a complete farm experience perfect for children and animal obsessed adults (ahem).
Butts is a working farm and offers visitors the chance to milk the goats, groom the ponies, feed the chickens, collect eggs or cuddle a bunny. Piglets roam the farm, basking lazily in the sunshine, and then out come the baby lambs for bottle-feeding. Aw!

As I contemplated giving up my writing job, donning overalls and embracing the good life, a piglet wiggling under each arm, my now hungry friends manhandled me away from the baby animals and through to the farm shop, to decide which meats, poultry, home cured bacon, fresh eggs and local vegetables we’d take home.
On our penultimate day we packed the three boys off to the 18 hole par 70 course at South Cerney Golf Club and my mum joined us to head to the Four Pillars Spa.
The quiet health club, which we had free passes for as part of our package, boasts a swimming pool, jacuzzi fountain, steam room and sauna. We paid for facials and massages on top.

Any unwinding my sister Sofie managed was soon undone the following day when I kindly volunteered her to try out wakeboarding on one of the watersport lakes. After being kitted up in a rather attractive wetsuit, lifeguard and helmet combo Sofie was shown a short safety video and then taken out to the lake to start her lesson. Clinging on to a knee board she managed to get halfway round the lake before we were faced with the amusing sight of my sibling being thrown off the board, arms flailing into the cold water on the first turn. Unfortunately she had to swim across the lake and scramble up onto the bank to walk back round to the starting platform. Poor Sofie, she fell in repeatedly at the first turn, each time having to walk back along the shore barefoot, wincing as she struggled through the brambly undergrowth.
Finally she managed to get round the first bend, and then the second, but despite her steely efforts she never quite completed a lap of the lake, as the third and sharpest bend defeated her. It was a worthy effort and brought about a very comical end to five days of much needed rest and relaxation.

* Short breaks (Mon-Fri or Fri-Mon) at Watermark start from £383.  Week breaks (Mon-Mon or Fri-Fri) start from £510. The price is per lodge and includes bedlinen, towels, teatowels, gas/electricity and welcome pack.
* Watermark facilities included: one free round of golf for two people at one of two local courses,  access to Spa 6 at Four Pillars Hotel and access to local large indoor fun pool. One free Family Day Pass to Cotswold Country Park & Beach.
* For more information or to book, contact www.watermarkclub.co.uk or call 01285 869 031.

After crying every blinking day for at least a month (curse you uncontrollable tear ducts), trying to take my own book advice and self-prescribing Sex And The City DVD therapy every night to counter the night terrors I began to pick myself up and dust myself down.

Then an email popped into my inbox inviting me to a Benefit ‘Flirt Alert’ evening where myself and a friend could brush up on both our make-up and flirting skills in one evening. Nice.

Naturally I invited my pal and dating-girl-about-town Sarah Finley and we headed to the shiny Benefit boutique near Liverpool Street.

After being handed booze and chocolate cupcakes both Sarah and I were given makeovers by Benefit’s Lisa Potter-Dixon, a kind of Ninja make-up artist who wields her brushes with lightning speed.

Even before Lisa worked her magic - and seduced by the girly packaging alone - I would have happily conducted a crazed supermarket sweep around Benefit, but there were two products that were top of my shopping list that night.

The first was this fan tail brush (£15.50) which actually applies blusher lightly and precisely. Previously I could never quite gage whether my blusher application smacked of ‘rosy glow’ or ‘unsightly red rash’ until I’d stepped out the house. The latter happened more than I cared for. I’m pleased to report those days are over.

The next little beauty was Stay don’t stray (£19.50) a product Benefit describe as a ‘dual-action-power-primer’ (blimey). Basically it’s a concealer and base you circle around your eye like a panda which once blended in covers up dark spots under your peepers and keeps your eye make-up in place for longer. I’m already addicted.

With our war paint applied both Sarah and I then had the nerve-wracking prospect of one-on-one sessions with flirt coach Sue Ostler who turned out to be totally fabulous.

Her top tip: flirt with everyone, every day - even if you don’t fancy them. According to Sue by landing the man who makes your morning mocha with a killer smile not only are you making his day but you are likely to get something free. Sue gets extras everywhere she goes - ooh err.

On a more serious note by practising eye contact, smiling and relaxed body language - you will eventually find it all the more easier to stand out to the guy you really like. Hurrah to that. You can check out Sue’s flirting tips by clicking here

I’ve always found spray tan booths fairly traumatic - remember a tangoed Ross on Friends after his fake tan hell? It’s just all too easy to come a cropper.

Standing, panicked, in a strange cubicle being blasted in the face with chemicals by a machine and feeling like you’re about to suffocate on the fumes is not my idea of fun. The disgusting yellowy-brown stained feet I always end up with hardly scream ‘boho babe’ in strappy sandals either.

So when I was invited to Urban Retreat at Harrods to try out a new Sienna X spray tan applied by an ACTUAL HUMAN it appealed.

Of course the downside of the ‘human with a spray gun’ school of tanning is the pure embarrassment of standing there wearing nothing but paper pants and a flattering hair net while a glam lady, in a pretty frock, squints and sprays at your boobs.

Perhaps I could have stared into the distance pretending it wasn’t happening, but alas I found myself in a room covered with wall-to-ceiling mirrors kindly reflecting the full horror back to me. Yep, thanks for that, my own personal Trinny and Suzannah mirrored booth hell.

Still, ten minutes of embarrassment aside, the finished results were very satisfying. While other fake tans stink to high heaven Sienna X’s spray tan (£45 for one session) actually has a mild, pleasant scent and the colour was sun-kissed rather than ‘Katie Price’ tango.

My tan lasted around five days, enough time to ease you into your bikini on the beach, or in my case to reassure my concerned parents (who I went to visit that weekend) that I’m not anaemic and drinking and partying myself into an early grave in London.

Since the spray tan I’ve also been using Sienna X’s eXtend and perfect gradual tan 200ml (£14.95) which gives you a subtle glow over several days of application. Again it smells of coconut/vanilla so does the job without making you feel you’ve just coated yourself in paint stripper.

Just don’t forget to moisturise your elbows

On Sunday ten members of the Twitterati team (many dressed as cheerleaders -whoop) will take part in the Cancer Research UK Race For Life on Hampstead Heath. Some of us are fighting fit and healthy, others are on the slightly slobbier side, but we all have one thing in common - we want to raise money for a fantastic cause…

Last month I had the privilege of joining my gorgeous friend Rebekah Gibbs as she ran the Race For Life at the 02 in North Greenwich.

Rebekah, an actress best known for her role as Nina the paramedic on Casualty, was diagnosed with breast cancer at 34 – just ten weeks after the birth of her daughter Gigi.

It was a very gruelling time for her both physically and emotionally.

Not only was Rebekah terrified that she might not be around to see her baby daughter grow up but there were also days during her treatment where she was just too weary to get out of bed.

Two years on I am pleased to report that Rebekah is fighting fit and well on the road to recovery. As she ran the 5km Race For Life in just over 30 minutes, it was amazing to see how her energy levels had returned. She looked elated, happy and healthy.

Also running that day was TV presenter Zoe Salmon who seemed a little subdued. When I chatted to her she revealed she was feeling completely shellshocked after sadly losing Laura Steenson, one of her best friends from university, to cancer the week before.

“I didn’t even know she was ill,” she told me. “It all happened so quickly. Laura didn’t tell me. She obviously didn’t want anyone to know. The first I heard was when her family got in contact to say she’d died the day before. It was awful.

“Afterwards I just sat there, completely shocked and thinking about the last time I spoke to her. It was literally a couple of weeks before and we’d been chatting about her 30^th birthday in June. I keep looking at the last photo I have of her. I can’t take it in.”

Poignantly the last time Zoe had seen her friend was a year earlier when they’d gone to a Cancer Reseach UK ball together (pictured left).

“It just sends shivers down my spine that we were there having such a great time and then just over a year later Laura would be diagnosed with cancer,” Zoe added. “She literally had no idea.

“During the race when you read all the back of the t-shirts and see who people are running for it’s really emotional.

“All these people are there for the same reason. They all want as much awareness as possible for cancer and the more money raised and the more research that can be done the better.

“Maybe one day there won’t be cancer? Laura was 29-years-old and she died of stomach cancer. It is just unbelievable. She was an amazing friend. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

It is stories like Zoe and Rebekah’s that really bring home why events like Race For Life are so important. Not only are they vital in funding Cancer Research UK’s life-saving work into preventing, diagnosing and treating cancer they also raise awareness.

All members of the Twitterati Party have had some dealing with this nasty disease and we are running this for many people.

As well as seeing my friend Rebekah beat the Big C, I recently had the joy of celebrating with my lovely pal Lorna when she was given the glorious news that she too is well on her way to kicking cancer.

But in October 2008 I sadly lost my beloved grandmother Mary to the disease so I’m doing the Race For Life in her memory.

Despite her lot, my grandmother was dignified, uncomplaining and brave and we were lucky to be able to nurse her at her home until the end - but she also suffered a lot and I would done anything to stop her enduring it.

Like Zoe says it is the dream that one day we will be free of cancer and we’d be very grateful if you could spare the Twitterati team just a pound or two.

You can click here to see our fundraising page.

Thank you xx

So Sex And The City 2 premiered this week to much hype, SJP hysteria and mixed reviews.

I’ve already booked in to see it twice next week and I’m pretty sure I’ll love every minute regardless of the plot. The fact is I will always have a massive soft spot for SATC…

A friend from Holland, who has never seen Sex And The City, recently asked me what a ‘SATC girl’ was. He’d googled it and come up with this rather derogatory explanation from Urban Dictionary. To his amusement this made me very indignant. “It’s about so much more than that,” I snapped. “It’s not just about sex, it’s about friendship and empowerment.”

Indeed Pauline Gacanja from the Onlocation Sex And The City tour in New York hit the nail on the head. “Women can relate to all the problems Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha have been through,” she told me recently. “The show is also an ideal view of what we would like our lives to be like - as in the end things always seem to work out for the girls and we all want that to happen to us. We seek that kind of bond with our friends.”

In this month’s Cosmopolitan I had the pleasure of writing an article called ‘Not Just Any Doorstep’ which features interviews with several SATC girls about their individual pilgrimages to Carrie’s stoop.

They include Claire Briston who was inspired to study fashion by the show and Lindsay Forschner who’s husband proposed to her on the SATC tour. Aww! Go buy the June issue of Cosmo now!

Anyhoo, I thought it would be interesting to share some of the other touching SATC stories I found along the way…

I beat cancer and celebrated surviving…

Mai-Linh Strauch, 34, is from Visalia, in California, USA and works in retail sales. She says:

‘When I visited Carrie’s stoop in 2006 I’d had an awful few years leading up to it. First my father was put in a wheelchair by a drunk driver and nine months later he died of cancer.

Then I was diagnosed with cervical cancer myself at the age of 26 and had to have a radical hysterectomy. I also helped care for my grandmother who was suffering from dementia.

In late 2005 my best friend Tabitha heard that my favorite singer Harry Connick Jr would be starring on Broadway so we planned a trip.

I was pretty beaten down by life and hadn’t done anything for myself since before my Dad’s death. But the NY trip was a rebirth. It was a chance to be independent again and to experience the most exciting city in the world. The minute I stepped foot on NY soil I felt so alive. I was invigorated by the city. For the first time in years I felt happy and worry-free.

For Tabitha and I, Carrie Bradshaw epitomized New York City and I’d beaten cancer just like Samantha. Walking in their footsteps in Greenwich and Manhattan was a revelation and the perfect way to celebrate coming out on the other side of everything I’d experienced.’

I battled anorexia and celebrated new beginnings…

Melinda Hutchings, 35, lives in Sydney, Australia, and is an author and motivational speaker. She says:

‘My friends say that out of all the SATC characters I’m most like Charlotte. In truth, I secretly feel more of an affinity with Carrie - underneath her sassy demeanour, Carrie has heart and spirit. She’s a true friend and although most of the time she’s unlucky in love, she keeps moving forward.

New York is a very special place for me, largely influenced by Carrie and Sex and The City, but my love affair with the city of my heart runs deep.

I battled anorexia during my teens and it was a desperately lonely time where I felt misunderstood, confused and tormented by destructive thoughts that consistently plagued me. Recovery was a long, slow and frustrating process marred by several relapses. It was also a difficult time for my family as they watched me helplessly wrestle my way through my illness.

When I was small I loved watching American TV shows and dreamed about travelling there one day. Part of my recovery journey was about creating goals so I had something to strive for and one was to travel to New York. I held this dream close to my heart as I garnered my inner strength and fought to save my own life.

Thankfully by the time I was 20 I was well into recovery and started to rebuild my life, mend relationships and figure out who I was. I felt consumed with an urgent need to embrace life and make up for the years of darkness and heartache anorexia had snatched from me.

I never lost sight of my dream to go to New York and when Sex and The City came along in 1998 my yearning intensified.

Then in December 1999 my dream came true. I travelled with my husband to New York and we arrived on Christmas Eve. We spent a glorious ten days exploring New York and it was magical. I promised myself that I’d return as soon as possible - and I did regularly.

Then in early 2007 the unimaginable happened. My marriage ended and I was thrust into darkness and pain as I struggled to come to terms with rebuilding my life and braving the future alone.

During that time, I often thought about New York and how the dream of going there during my recovery from anorexia had been a significant goal, something to strive for, to look forward to, to hope for.

I spent evenings watching reruns of Sex and The City and during a particularly dark period when I spent days on end crying under my duvet, I made myself a promise. No more being a victim.

A voice inside my head said “What are you waiting for? Go and book a trip to New York!” I climbed out of bed, made a beeline for my laptop and did it.

In September 2007, as my plane landed at JFK, my eyes filled with tears as joy and anticipation coursed through me. The feeling of being back in New York was like coming home.

The next day I ventured to The Village and found Carrie’s stoop. As I climbed the stairs and sat down I remembered Carrie’s words in the final scene of Sex and The City: “The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.”

I made the decision that this was the beginning of the rest of my life. My journey through recovering from my marriage break up had brought me to Carrie’s stoop where I had an epiphany: if I trust in myself, listen to my inner wisdom and go forth with blind faith, the rest would fall into place.’

Click here to read more about Melinda

Sex And The City helped me to LIVE my life…

Sunny Patel, 34, is a journalist from London. She says:

‘Growing up in the Midlands I’d always dreamed of working in a high-powered city like London. I wanted the city life, to meet new people, be a regular at the opera house, museums, galleries and theatres – and have the culinary delights of the globe at my disposal. But I was held back by a variety of reasons including guilt and lack of confidence - and I allowed myself to be.

I’ve always loved SATC and I used to watch at least an episode a night and even started making my own notes. Seeing the escapades of Carrie and co made me realise I could no longer stay and live the life others wanted me to - just the way Carrie felt before leaving NY for Paris with Alexander Petrovsky.

I needed fresh, new challenges at work - and to breathe freely. So when the opportunity to become a lobby journalist at the Houses of Parliament presented itself, I had to grab it with both hands. The prospect of leaving behind everything familiar was daunting, and while things didn’t go quite to plan for Carrie, I have never had a single regret. And I have never felt more happier, or alive, at home.’

I went on a Sex And The City pilgrimage on my Honeymoon!

Amanda Moran, 33, is from Middlesborough and works as a librarian. She says:

‘I knew my husband Dave was the one for me when he’d sit and patiently watch SATC episodes with me. It takes a certain sort of guy to be comfortable with such a girly programme but he’d happily watch it because I liked it.

I always joke that he’s my ‘Steve’ - down-to-earth and upfront about his feelings.

I’d first started watching SATC when I was single and living in London and felt that in many ways it mirrored my own life. Then after I met Dave, working with the Prince’s Trust, he suggested a holiday to New York.

While we were there we took a ride in a horse-drawn carriage around Central Park and en-route Dave proposed! Then he took me to Tiffany’s to chose the ring! It was completely perfect.

We got married in November 2007 and it seemed fitting to return to the Big Apple for our Honeymoon.

Five days in I told Dave that I really wanted to go on the Sex And The City tour so he duly came along with me. He was the only straight man there but seeing as he knew all the storylines I think he secretly quite enjoyed it – even posing on Carrie’s stoop with me. As he smiled at me I felt happy and excited and took a moment to wonder what the future might hold. A month later I discovered I was pregnant! We now have a little boy called Max.’

* The June issue of Cosmopolitan is out now. To find out more about the Sex And The City tour click here.

* So what does SATC mean to you? Please add your comment below…

When guest blogger SARAH NORRIL was diagnosed with breast cancer she expected people to find the subject awkward –what she wasn’t ready for was the foot-in-mouth comments…

I pride myself on being quite a quirky, funny girl who has, like many of us, had to put up with my fair share of rubbish.

Rubbish from men, bosses, life in general. It throws stuff at me and I just bat it off, because that, my friends, is how I roll and how I have always dealt with things.

I am also quite nice to people. I would never KNOWINGLY upset someone unless I was feeling particularly hormonal. Instead I have Shirley Valentine tendencies where I talk to a wall and get my frustrations out that way. Or I tweet, I like to tweet, I am a serial tweeter.

However, my recent dalliance with breast cancer has shown me that not everyone is quite so polite. Over some red wine with Charlotte recently I shared some of the things people have said to me through my ‘journey’.

I thought our Charlotte was shock proof, but alas this left her open mouthed – this is when she asked me to blog about it on here. So here we go. Below are the top things NOT to say to someone who has breast cancer…

· ‘I thought cancer made you skinny’ (NOTE, some cancer treatment makes you gain WEIGHT. LOTS OF WEIGHT)

· ‘Is radiotherapy like being on a sunbed?’ – to which I replied ‘Yep it’s just like a spa’ whilst secretly wishing I could spit in their face.

· ‘So, at the end of all this, you get a boob job right? WOW it almost makes it worth it’.

· ‘If you are gonna get any cancer, breast is best’ Hellooo? I am having a tumour removed, not discussing options on how to feed a child.

· In reaction to my hair falling out post chemo: ‘Oh, mine does that when I don’t wash it for a few days…’

· And the best: ‘WOW, you are having a vasectomy? Does that mean you won’t be able to have children!’ Yes, I was stunned as well.

The way I see it, sometimes if you have nothing nice to say, just say NOTHING.

To shine a positive light on it all, when I am better and reminded of all this, I will secretly gloat that the stupidity of some people gave me great blog material.

Now that my friends really does almost makes it worth it!

PS No idiots were harmed in the writing of this blog!

Lisa Lynch is a formidable lady. At 28 her life was shaping up nicely. She was married to the lovely P, had a dream job as a magazine editor and big ambitions before her 30th. Then ‘The Bullshit’ arrived - breast cancer - and suddenly she faced a mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

Lisa duly started to pen down her darkest thoughts, comedy observations and general life musings in her blog Alright Tit. As she endured her treatment, her readership grew, Stephen Fry bigged her up on Twitter and she was snapped up for a book deal.

In June 2009 after one mastectomy, reconstructive surgery, five months of chemo and six weeks of radiotherapy Lisa was thrilled to learn that her first cancerversary mammogram was clear.

With her book The C-Word out now GINA SMITH catches up with her…

Hi Lisa, congrats on your book! What can readers expect?

Thank you! As to what readers can expect – in short, the truth about my run-in with The Bullshit (or ‘breast cancer’ to folk less sweary than I). I think they can expect a book that tells it like it is – it’s not always easy to read, but I like to think that it never strays more than a couple of strides from humour.

How long did it take you to write?

As The C-Word is based on my blog, Alright Tit, I had the basis of the structure before I began, as I knew that I wanted to begin each chapter with a blog post. But in terms of writing the rest, it was around six months. Which, somewhat tragically, is faster than the average amount of time it usually takes me to read a book.

How easy was it to get a book deal?

Mine was quite an unorthodox route to getting published. It all happened rather by accident, thanks to a tweet by a certain lofty actor/writer/comedian/national treasure. My now literary agent had joined Twitter that same day and got in touch to ask if I’d considered turning my blog into a book, and within a couple of months we’d got together a proposal and had a few offers on the table. I feel a bit guilty about falling into becoming an author that way, but then I dare say I was due a bit of payback after all the cancer stuff, eh?

How did it differ from writing your blog?

My blog was – and still is – largely a reaction to however I’m feeling at the time of writing. It’s about an immediate experience rather than a reflective narrative and so the book, naturally, had to be more considered and record the experience in a different way. Thus while the blog was more of a catharsis, in order to write The C-Word I had to delve deeper into the thoughts, feelings and experiences that I had either blocked out or glossed over at the time. For example, I had to discover what the moment of learning about my diagnosis had been like for my family and friends. That’s a thing I couldn’t have dealt with at the time, but was necessary to know for the book.

You don’t mince your words and call cancer ‘the bullshit’ – how does it feel to be out the other side?

I’d love to be able to tell you, but in truth I have no idea. I don’t feel like I am out of the other side, really. I doubt that there even is an ‘other side’. I know that might sound horribly defeatist, but in actual fact from the moment you’re told you have cancer your life changes irreparably. It’s not just something to scrap your way through for a year or eighteen months or however long it takes to contain a tumour, but is instead something that – like it or not – you spend the rest of your life managing. At the risk of bombarding you with ‘the science bit’, for my specific diagnosis there is no ‘all clear’. Hence I have six-weekly check-ups and am, much of the time, waiting for scan/test/x-ray results of some sort.

What was the worst point of ‘the bullshit’ for you?

Coof, that’s like choosing your favourite moment in a leg-wax. Chemo was often a living hell, but then of course there was the horror of having to tell my family I had cancer, the strange Stockholm-Syndrome-like feeling that came after my immediate treatment ended, and the continual waiting for test results – and the paranoia that comes with it. This might come back to bite me on the ass, but I’ve always said that whatever the doctors tell me, I’ll deal with it – and regardless of what the news is, it can’t be worse than the torture of waiting.

Stephen Fry called you ‘the web’s top cancer bitch’ but you’re secretly quite nice aren’t you…

Well I like to think I’m quite nice, I s’pose, aye. [shuffles nervously] I certainly wasn’t ever trying to be a ‘cancer bitch’ but I think what His Fryness picked up on was the alter-ego of pure kick-ass that tended to surface in the worst moments of The Bullshit. Like a bald Sasha Fierce!

Has the book had a good reaction from fellow breast cancer sufferers?

Overwhelmingly good. I can’t get my head around the number of emails, letters and messages I’ve received since it was published. I’d love to be able to take credit for that and tell you that I was purposely trying to reach out to women who’ve been through the same but, in truth, I think I was only writing about my experience to keep myself from going crazy.

Did you find writing about your experiences cathartic?

Hugely so. But more than that, it also gave me the chance to move past cancer as much as possible, and not have it dominate my conversations. By putting everything out there online, it answered people’s questions and let them know how I was feeling without them having to tiptoe around me or tilt their head in concern. More often than not, people ask me about my blog before they ask about The Bullshit, which I appreciate more than they can imagine.

How did cancer affect your relationship with your husband?

It didn’t. That sounds rather a glib thing to say, but even pre-cancer I knew that me and P were a force to be reckoned with. That’s why whenever one of us would ask “why us?”, the other would say “because we can handle it”.

You’ve said in the past that during your treatment you hated people opening conversations with “How have you been?” Were you ever tempted to reply with a sarcastic response?

I was always tempted, but I don’t think I’ve ever risen to the bait. At least not in person, anyway! I guess there’s always a Mark-from-Peep-Show internal dialogue in which you snap back with ‘shit, actually’, but I can’t ever remember actually verbalising it!

You also said that cancer made you more popular, which must have been odd. Did you ever feel as though the cancer defined your personality? Was that irritating?

That still bothers me actually; I’m constantly fighting with it. I might always be fighting with it, who knows? And as much as I’d like one, I don’t think there’s a tidy answer. When your nearest and dearest have to consider the thought of losing you, it’s bound to result in more calls/visits/cards/emails/flowers/Facebook friends. And while it’s lovely to spend more time with the folk who mean the most to you, you do have to work hard to move that contact beyond The Bullshit, otherwise you’ll for ever more be an exhibit for people to gawp at. I can’t deny that The Bullshit has formed a major part of my life and – whether I like it or not – had an effect on who I am. But I don’t want to be seen as ‘Lisa the cancer patient’ or ‘Lisa who had breast cancer’. I just want to be Lisa. Lisa the wife, Lisa the daughter, Lisa the sister, Lisa the friend, Lisa the writer. Just an ordinary girl who experienced something extraordinary.

Has cancer changed you? Are you more spontaneous in life?

I suppose I’m a bit of a reformed planaholic. Pre-Bullshit, I was your typical turbo-Virgo with a Grand Life Plan mapped out in front of me. I thought I had it all worked out. But then along came a tumour to prove just how little in life you’re able to plan. It hasn’t curbed my ambitions or my enthusiasm; just given me a kick up the jacksie in terms of realising that I’m not always in control. It’s simultaneously frightening and invigorating.

Where do you write?

I’m very much of the Charlotte Ward School Of Writing. PJs, laptop, sofa, telly, tea. Then realising with horror that it’s 3pm and I haven’t yet brushed my teeth.

Who are your favourite authors?

Nick Hornby, Bill Bryson, Stuart Maconie and – a recent discovery – Craig Silvey. He’s only 26 and is so incredibly talented it makes me want to puke.

Any advice for budding writers?

The most obvious thing: write. Start a blog, carry a notebook, test out ideas in emails to your mates, be creative with Facebook statuses or Twitter updates, send yourself text messages with inspirations. Generally if I don’t write something down, I forget it – hence a drawer filled with notes written on beer mats, receipts and bingo tickets.

If you could give one message to women going through cancer what would it be?

If you’ve discovered it, you’re already en route to getting something done about it. Worse even than knowing what you have is not knowing, so surrender to the amazing medical professionals around you and trust the force. Oh, and swear like a mofo.

What’s next? Will there be another book?

I’m continuing to write my blog and I’m also writing a novel which is new territory for me and thus a verrrrry slooooow process. But I loveloveLOVE writing, and hope that I can continue to turn a once-shitty situation to my advantage.

The C-Word by Lisa Lynch is out now. Buy it here!

Last month I was dispatched to Sheffield to undertake one of the most terrifying jobs I have done to date. The task at hand was to sit on a celebrity judging panel at Sheffield Arena for the Dancing On Ice tour and be as mean to the skaters as Jason Gardiner is on the TV show. In front of THOUSANDS of people *gulp* Well I did it and along the way I got heckled, I got booed and Andi Peters told me I had ‘no passion for life’ OUCH.

You can read how I got on here…

At the opening night of the Dancing On Ice Tour there is one crucial ingredient missing – the acid-tongued retorts of scathing judge Jason Gardiner.

Without bitchy choreographer Jason to doll out stinging one-liners those pesky skating celebs think they’ve got it easy. But they’re in for a nasty shock. I’ve come to Sheffield to out-bitch Jason and put the mean back into the Dancing On Ice judging panel.

Before the show begins I’m sitting down, specs in place and poison pen poised, when actor Gary Lucy and Boyzone star Mikey Graham approach. Plonking themselves down either side of me they are clearly trying to butter me up with cheery small talk. I haven’t seen them skating yet but I’m not about to be nice.

I eye Mikey’s bright green, sequinned shirt with distaste. “Aren’t you a bit old for this get-up?” I ask. “You look like a bauble on ice.”

Next I pick on Gary for his orange tangoed glow. “You look like an oompha loompa,” I berate. “More planning, less tanning Gary.”

Gary it turns out is skating first so remembering how much Jason hates him (he labeled him a ‘total bore’) I decide to give him some Gardiner-esque words of wisdom.

“To be honest I’d say stick to the day job,” I smile. “But I guess now The Bill has been axed you can’t…” That should stand him in good stead for his performance. Leaving Gary looking disheartened I am lead out to the arena with the other judges: Karen Barber, Kyran Bracken, Christopher Biggins and Nicky Slater. When I’m introduced as the guest judge I get a polite cheer from the crowd. Yup, that won’t last long.

There are screams and whoops as Gary takes to the ice with professional skater Maria and spins around to You Never Can Tell. I start tapping my foot enthusiastically then promptly chastise myself. Gary may have done a brilliant routine but I’m not here to be nice. Instead I land him with a mediocre 3 out of 6. A murmur of boos ripples around the arena. I smile smugly.

Next up in Emily Atack. She glides around the ice elegantly with partner Fred to Saving All My Love. She has clearly come a long way since the TV show – not that I plan to tell her that. Taking a deep breath I press 2 on my electronic scoreboard. As my mark is beamed around the arena boos start to echo all round.

Host Andi Peters frowns at me.

“Jason, I mean Charlotte, two?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes,” I say defiantly. “She’s pretty to look at but there just wasn’t any Atack.” I grin at my clever pun. The crowd boo. Karen Barber shakes her head at me. Job done.

Mikey is up next with a slick little number to Cecelia. He should have the luck of the Irish, but tonight I decide his luck has run out. I press 3. Proud to mark him lower than anyone else. Next I stare unimpressed at a dazzling routine from Dancing On Ice veteran Clare Buckfield.

“How many times has she done this tour?” I question. “Isn’t it time she gave up and had her own 2Point4 Children?”

I’m distracted by the next contestant, former Hollyoaks actor Chris Fountain, who is wiggling his pert backside rather magnificently to ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’ right in front of the judging panel. Wowzers. Focus, Charlotte, focus.

His performance is flawless and he pulls off an amazing headbanger with partner Brianne. Fellow judge Kyran leaps out of his seat to give a standing ovation. The sixes are being dolled out with gusto so of course I decide to rain on his parade - deliberately marking him low with a 5. This time the boos are deafening. Woman and children are scowling at me from every angle.

Actress Gaynor Faye is up next with a sob story about falling over and cutting her face earlier in the week. Something inside me starts to thaw and in an involuntary moment of madness I give her a 4.5. Even Andi Peter’s is amazed.

“What’s going on Charlotte?” he asks.

“I don’t know, I really wanted to be mean,” I stammer, inwardly berating myself for being such a soft touch. Jason would never have buckled so easily.

There is only one thing for it. Former champion and ladies’ favourite Ray is going to have to take the fall. As he whizzes around magnificently to I’ve Gotta Feeling with partner Alexandra, I purse my lips. I can see the rest of the panel are loving it so I give him a mean 4.5. Boos thunder around the arena.

Andi pounces on me again.

“It’s only the first night!” I explain. “It’s character building.”

“You really have no passion for life do you?” Andi retorts.

No, Peters, I do not.

I follow-up by laughing in the face of Hayley Tamaddon’s acclaimed Jai Ho with a stingy 5. “Take that, Stage School Barbie,” I mutter. By now the rest of the panel have stopped talking to me. It’s time for the interval and no sooner have I headed back stage than I’m confronted by an outraged Ray.

“Character building?” he repeats.

“I’m sorry Ray,” I explain. “You did well in the TV series but tonight I thought you looked like a gummy bear on a caffeine high.”

To my horror Ray’s face crumples. Oops. I rummage in my bag and hand him a tissue.

Biting my lip I remember the mantra I read on Jason’s Twitter page: “I‘m like an onion I have many layers and if you cut me I’ll make you cry.” In the spirit of Gardiner I must carry on… I am distracted from Ray’s blubbing by an angry looking Emily.

“Emily, Emily,” I say condescendingly. “The fact is you’re about as good as a poodle wearing oiled roller skates.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenges. The next thing I know she has me in a headlock and is tugging at my hair. Ugh.

“Bring back Todd Carty!” I shout, wrestling away from her. “Even he was better than you!”

I dust down my dress and head back out into the arena to judge the final boleros between the two top scorers Chris and Hayley.

The second I step out into the spotlight I am blasted with deafening boos and heckles. I ignore everyone and amble over to my seat. It’s amazing how blasé you can be about being public enemy number one. Ten minutes later Hayley and partner Dan are crowned champions and with a string of withering put-downs in my wake my work here is done.

Now there is just one challenge ahead of me, how to sneak out the arena without being lynched…

To get tickets for the tour visit www.dancingonicetour.co.uk

Last week I was invited to an event for BeautifulPeople.com an exclusive social networking/dating site that in a Zoolander styleee only accepts the really, really, ridiculously good-looking as members.

This intrigued me for a number of reasons but not least as the website has been all over the papers of late. In a stroke of PR genius it faced controversy earlier this year after it cruelly axed 5,000 members because their waistlines had expanded over the festive period.

“Letting fatties roam the site is a direct threat to our business model and the very concept for which BeautifulPeople.com was founded,” site founder Robert Hintze kindly explained. Nice.

Naturally his comments were met with global outrage but rather tellingly it also saw 48,000 new applications for coveted membership in the space of 24 hours. The site now has over 600,000 supposedly easy-on-the-eye members worldwide.

But arriving at the party’s aptly image-conscious venue, Chinawhite, with my friend Scarlett, there actually seems to be a real lack of stunners. Instead a distinctly average and scarily self-assured man shimmies up to sit next to us.

“Are you members?” he grins. “No, we’re journalists,” we reply.

“Oh you should join!” he smiles, looking us up and down unashamedly. Yikes.

When I look round a cringing Scarlett has scampered. That is the last I see of her for the evening.

Meanwhile Antoine, 21, reveals he is from Germany and has flown in especially for tonight’s event. What he lacks in ‘beautiful’ looks he makes up in exuberant personality - if you like small, hyperactive men with flashing finger lights that is.

I kid you not, later in the evening I spy Antoine attaching an array of rainbow coloured lights (not dissimilar to the ones my parents bought me for my bicycle) to his digits which he then waves around manically while pulling off some startling dance moves.

Meanwhile the slightly more demure Chris, striking and smartly-dressed, is clearly out to make a good impression. He’s even had a man makeover from a female friend who helped him pick out his M&S suit. His chat, though, needs some improvement.

Indeed, when asked by a pretty PR lady to answer a questionnaire he quips: “If I fill it in do I get to touch you up” Luckily for him this tumbleweed moment is drowned out by the pumping music.

He later tells me he works as a dolphin trainer but lying really isn’t his forte. After a couple of minutes the truth comes out - he actually works in science publishing.

“Attractiveness is based on pheromones. There are MHC receptors on the immune cells that are similar to the ones in your nose…” he begins. Yep, you’ve lost me.

What sort of girl is he looking for?

“Someone who I can get on well with,” he replies.

As if on cue his phone bleeps. “Found any airheads yet?” a text from his friend reads. Bless.

Duncan, 27, works in the city and is straight to the point about how he believes looks are vitally important.

“If I don’t get that initial ‘I want to rip your clothes off’ then I’m not interested,” he says candidly.

“But haven’t you ever talked to someone who is aesthetically pleasing only for them to become quite unattractive because of their personality?” I question.

“Nope,” he smiles without hesitation, before chasing after a pretty young lady.

Not everyone is here to pull. I met a Russian girl called Julia, 36, who became a member to network and meet new people. She and her sister plan to organise female only evenings to discuss women’s health and sexuality. Likewise ‘London dating doc’ Paul is here to bag potential clients for his one-to-one advisory service for men - The Black Book Consultancy.

I also get talking to a hypnotherapist who immediately thrusts a flyer for his business into my hand.

“I’ve got you summed up,” he tells me confidently within five minutes. “At first you were hesitant to talk to me and your eyes were wandering but then you relaxed when I asked you questions.”

“You mean I like talking about myself?” I confirm.

“Basically yes,” he replies. Ouch.

Moving on I meet Yukari a make-up artist, who recently abandoned sugardaddie.com to try out BeautifulPeople. She appears to be hitting it off with another BP member, Colin, who is sporting a bright orange complexion, slick black hair and a suit with an open shirt which smacks of Saturday Night Fever.

In fact by the end of the evening couples everywhere appear to be getting along famously. Marina, 28, a stunning Russian model is snuggled in the corner with Alexander, 21, a rather pretty and chiselled Frenchman.

They have been chatting online for several weeks after meeting on BeautifulPeople and tonight is their first real life meeting.

“She is even more than I expected,” Alexander reveals as Marina smiles at him. Oooh!

So after meeting the members there is only one thing for it - it’s time to try out the website for myself. Yesterday I tentatively uploaded three flattering shots including my pièce de résistance…

For the next 48 hours existing members will rank me to decide if I’m ‘beautiful’ enough to make the grade.

Watch this space…

When I was eight-years-old a Doctor Who episode scared me so much that I suffered nightmares and promised my grandfather I’d never watch it again.

Now here I am 23 years later bravely staring death in the face as I eyeball the most terrifying Doctor Who baddie of them all – a dastardly dalek.

I’ve joined hordes of geeks who’ve turned out in their droves to bid for a collection of rare Doctor Who props and costumes on sale at Bonhams auction house in Knightsbridge, London.

Before the bids get going the showroom is packed full of a disturbing array of monsters from the cult TV show – as well as a steady trickle of middle-aged men salivating over them.

It’s a sci-fi paradise with 166 glorious lots up for grabs. As well as the daleks and cybermen there is a dinner suit worn by David Tennant and the iconic outfit Kylie Minogue wore in the 2007 Christmas special. They later sell for £5,040 and £3,120 respectively.

As the 2pm auction looms the showroom begins to fill with Doctor Who fans – and yes some of them are wearing anoraks.

Amongst the excited punters grabbing an opportunity to pose with the array of tractators, krolls, mandrells and other creepy sights is 42-year-old Shawn who is keen to have his picture taken with as many props as possible.

Shawn, from Romford is a diehard fan and once owned a Colin Baker outfit which he acquired at an auction in the late 80s for £880.

He has since sold it for a profit – much to the relief of his wife Joanne who is less than enthusiastic about his passion for collecting Doctor Who memorabilia.

“She can’t stand it,” he says. “She thinks I’m mad.” Indeed Joanne has apparently banished all Doctor Who-related tat to the garage.

“She doesn’t like clutter,” Shawn admits, before divulging that he recently dragged his family on a special trip to Cardiff to visit Doctor Who filming locations.

Out comes the camera and Shawn proudly flicks through a series of photos of him recreating Doctor Who moments. There’s Shawn in front of a war memorial, in a residential street and, err, in front of a bush.

“This is just showing how sad I am,” he says sheepishly. “This is me stood in front of some twigs. The picture I was trying to replicate was of Martha and the Doctor. I took a screen grab off the DVD but I don’t think my picture looks right. I couldn’t find the right twigs!”

If Shawn is looking embarrassed his dad Warren has another revelation.

“I don’t think he’s told you, but he’s got a tattoo,” he reveals.

Shawn reluctantly rolls up his sleeve to reveal his body art – a tattoo of a Doctor Who question mark on his arm.

But Shawn is not alone. He gets chatting to Matt, 27, who he may know on Facebook through their mutual love of the show.

Matt, from Ipswich, is also potty about the Doctor and is here to bid for anything that has been worn by David Tennant.

“If I go to conventions I dress as the tenth doctor as people say I’ve got a resemblance to David Tennant,” he reveals proudly.

“I’ve even had brown and blue pinstripe suits specially made, I have a brown full length coat and I live in converse trainers.”

Do the ladies love it?

“Yes,” he grins, before revealing he met his girlfriend (or should that be companion?) Leanne at one such convention while dressed as David.

Tennant-isms like ‘Brilliant!’ “Oh yes!” and ‘Well!” trip off his tongue and he has the pose down to a tee.

It’s just a shame that David Tennant’s doctor has now regenerated into the one portrayed by Matt Smith.

“You’re going to have to have surgery now,” I inform him. “You need a wider face and bigger hair.”

Next I meet Martin, 31. He’s here with his girlfriend Catherine, 33, who bought tickets to the auction as a Valentine’s present.

Just how obsessed are they? Martin proves that actions speak louder than words by reaching into his pocket to reveal a replica sonic screwdriver.

It’s from Toys R Us and doubles up as an ultraviolet pen. Nifty!

A discussion about Doctor Who old and new ensues. They admit to sobbing side by side when David Tennant played out his last scenes on New Years Day.

“At first you were resistant to the new series weren’t you?” Martin says to Catherine, who giggles when I ask what they both do.

“Software development,” she says.

“We’re stereotypes!” Martin grimaces.

Although they laugh off suggestions that they could name their first born after a Doctor Who character they do have a friend who named his cat after the Face of Boe.

As the auction gets underway the showroom is packed out and the bidding furious.

One big bidder Simon, 44, makes a gallant attempt to snap up a black imperial dalek, finally losing out to a mystery phone bidder who pays a staggering £17,000 – and that’s before taxes and commission.

However Simon is vindicated scooping a cyberman costume for a pricey £8,400 later on.

So why would a grown man want such a trophy?

“I grew up in Australia and I used to rush home from school to watch Doctor Who,” he says. “I like anything to do with my past. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, this is my only vice.”

I am distracted by Alan Jones from North Wales grappling with a Plasmaton costume which he is taking home in return for £336.

“Thankfully it’s quite light,” he says as he staggers off to flag down a taxi.

Next I spot Matt from earlier who is thrilled after paying £1260 for a pale blue Uni Qlo shirt.

“It’s David Tennant’s,” he says. “The price kept going up and up but I really wanted it. I’m going to frame it!”

Meanwhile Darren Elliott, 37, is also delighted with his ‘bus conductor head’ and ‘mongolian costume’ which cost him a combined total of £1188.

“I have a replica Dalek at home,” he says. “I sound like a complete anorak but I do have a girlfriend! She likes to encourage me and has let me take over an entire bedroom of our house.”

So does he actually dress up in this stuff?

“No,” he scoffs. “But did you see that rubber mask that went for about £4,000? It does make you wonder who bought it. I think there’s a gimp in the making.” Eww.

Darren turns to join a huddle of men. “Do you know a good dalek restorer?” one asks.

Now where’s that blinking Tardis when I need it?

I’m already hooked on Twitter and Facebook so when I heard about a new online gimmick called ‘chat roulette’ I decided to give it a whirl.

‘Chat roulette’ launched in November and is already attracting 22,000 users at any one time. Even the Jonas Brothers were rumoured to be on it this week. The premise is very simple: you enable your webcam, click ‘play’ and then find yourself face-to-face with a random stranger from anywhere else in the world.

You can either chat away or, if you don’t like what you see, quickly click ‘next’ to move to the next person - very handy actually considering what a magnet for oddballs and sexual deviants ‘chat roulette’ can be.

Connecting for the very first time I am confused to see my first ‘stranger’ sporting a blank screen.

“Hi,” they type from the abyss. “You’re pretty.”

“Why can’t I see you?” I quickly type back.

“My mom won’t buy me a webcam,” comes the reply.

Allegedly I am talking to a teenager in Denmark but the fact they can see me while I am blind unnerves me. I quickly make my excuses and click ‘next’.

That’s better – I am greeted by a grinning man. But then he moves his webcam down. He is only wearing boxers and shoves his crotch up against the screen. Eww. NEXT!

I rush through a few more blank screens until I meet a teenager wearing a hoodie.

“Yo,” says the boy. “Wats Upp?”

I am now talking to 18-year-old Rob from Connecticut. Rob tells me that ‘Connecticut sucks’ and that he used to live in Harlem in New York. His family moved him away aged 15 as his pals kept getting shot. He is now studying Eastern religion at the University of Connecticut. We politely sign off and I press ‘Next’ to be greeted by the sight of a smiling young man.

He types ‘Hi’ but then as I key in words his image freezes. My imagination runs riot as I dread to think what is going on behind his frozen image. NEXT!!

I decide I need to adapt a safety technique to this webcam business so I angle it away from my face so the next stranger can’t see me until I want them to. I press ‘Next’ quickly surfing through more blank screens and a fair few unsavory sights.

Then I meet Michael, a bartender from Chicago who promises to stay fully clothed.

He seems like a nice guy and reveals he likes to start dance parties online. To demonstrate he cranks up Miley Cyrus’ Party In The USA and proceeds to dance energetically in camera shot while I giggle.

“Chat roulette is really new,” he says when he sits down again. “I hope people move towards using it for good.”

He pauses.

“But I did have a nice conversation with a pair of tits earlier,” he admits. “They were from Barcelona and told me to come visit the city.”

All in all I like Michael – which is more than I can say for my next ‘stranger’.

This time the camera is angled on a naked man hanging upside down from a doorway. What on earth is he being suspended by? Err, Ugh, Ewwww. NEXT!

I am greeted by a young lady. At last a girl! The females on here appear to be few and far between and up until now they have been reluctant to talk to me. Clicking to discard me before I type a single word. Whatever happened to the sisterhood?

This girl, however, seems friendlier. Then I notice she is lying on her bed. In her underwear. Skimpy underwear.

“I like to play with everyone,” she types writhing around. Eek. NEXT!

The following stranger is in fact a pink plastic toy – and a very demanding one at that.

“I need to see you,” the toy commands. “Move your camera left.”

“You first,” I reply.

“Come on,” it types.

“Is this a stand off situation?” I ask.

“You have one more chance,” the toy replies. Stroppy. I scroll up and click ‘Next.’

PenghuiLi is 17 and from China and seems sweet until he starts begging me for my email address. When I refuse he asks if he can have one for my sister. NEXT!

Sebastian, 21, is an architecture student from Seville in Spain and tells me he is on ‘chat roulette’ as he is bored with studying.

“Tell me you speak Spanish!” he says.

“Um, hola!” I reply.

“I think you are the only woman on here,” he says. “Did you know Carlota is Charlotte in Spanish? It is my girl’s name.”

He seems like a jovial chap and reveals he has been chatting to people to practice his English.

After bidding Sebastian goodbye I speak to nice folk from Norway, Turkey and France then waste another hour clicking from camera to camera avoiding the men (and ladies) explicitly touting their wares. I pass a window shot of pretty scenery, scribbled messages asking for laughs, a guy studiously picking his nose, people in fancy dress and an eccentric Londoner who reflects my image back to me and draws squid on it.

I really shouldn’t like chat roulette but there is something very intriguing about it…