More recent blogs and articles have been moved to "The Mini Adventures of Little Lane"

Short Sarah's short list short story

I've had a few requests asking me to reveal my 500 word short story, now that the final short list has been established. I did think twice about making this public (there's a fine line between 'selling yourself' and 'being really arrogant', which I believe I may have crossed in certain areas). But, I figured, since I've already read out on national TV that my first action in life was excretion, I probably have no shame left now anyway.


The brief for this was:

Write a 300-500 word story, including:

- A little about your background, previous employment, family, where you live
- What is most important to you in life
- If successful in gaining The Best Job in the World with Tourism Queensland, who will be joining you on your journey to the Islands of the Great Barrier Reef (partner and/or children and tell us a little about them)
- Anything else you would like to share about yourself


Please, enjoy at you leisure....

Twenty-five years ago a little girl was born - Sarah Louise: international jetsetter, centre section of the illustrious ‘Lane sisters’, and one of the smallest living organisms on Earth. This is my story…

Born on November 19th, I am what one calls ‘a winter baby’. But I didn’t let the cold weather get me down, oh no - I was a merry child from birth. Within seconds of entering the universe, I relieved myself on the maternity bed. My parents like to say that was my first joke and I haven’t stopped laughing since.

I grew […slightly] up in Watford, England – the kind of place that makes you dream of travel. Daughter of a pianist and a chemist, my early days were largely spent entertaining neighbours with music shows, learning how to blow things up and wrestling with my siblings. My two sisters were, and remain, my closest friends. Along with a handful of my funniest chums, they will definitely receive an invitation to the island. Since my lifestyle choices and their dancing careers keep us all regularly England-free, it would be the first ‘tripod’ reunion in years.

Thanks to the inherited gift of synaesthesia (a rare condition meaning I associate numbers and letters with colours) learning has always been enjoyable for me and I breezed my way through the education system. I completed my studies at university in Leeds, where I acquired the nickname ‘Party Girl’ for my love of dancing, and lived in a house with two girls, five boys and no bathroom door.

I’ve never been one to opt for the ordinary life and have had a range of ridiculous jobs, beginning, age fourteen, as a mobile phone ringtone composer. Later, I branched out into various other money-making schemes including working as a Red Bull girl, dancing for Watford Football Club, writing for a humorous city guide, and marketing a comedy TV channel. When times were hard, in a bid to raise funds for another global voyage, I even dabbled in tutoring guys on their dating skills. I may also be the only Londoner to have ever used the genuine excuse “Sorry I’m late, I’ve just commuted from Johannesburg”.

These days I like to think of myself as an international woman of mystery; bouncing around the world in random peregrination with nothing but my blagging skills and superior sense of smell to guide me. Those left behind are entertained by my much-loved blog ‘The International Adventures of Party Girl’; memoirs to accompany the diary I have kept since the age of fifteen.

Adventure, spontaneity, photography and writing are my true loves. I’m genuinely never in a bad mood and will talk to anyone, go anywhere, try everything and eat anything (except aniseed balls). I’m currently living in a boxing arena in Peru with ten fighters I met on a bus, but I really hope to relocate soon to a beautiful island on the Great Barrier Reef, and take my blog readers on an entirely new adventure…

NB. Queensland Tourism's feedback on this was:

"Very strong performance - engaging well written piece, answers all questions, desirable writing style"

Unfortunately, unless accompanied by hurling myself into the Thames, it doesn't account for very much (my words, not theirs). Damn it! It seems so obvious in hindsight. Still, nice that they appreciated my story anyhow…

Have a good day all… I’m off job hunting…

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars" - Oscar Wilde

The Dumpling

Last night I was dumped in the worst possible way: by email, on national TV.

That sentence doesn't even really convey quite how acutely mortifying the whole situation was, since it omits other, vital, horror-inducing factors, such as:

1) The fact that I was surrounded at the time by 10 or so of my close friends, who had spent the last few hours shamelessly announcing to the BBC camera that they were 100% sure I was going through, because I had 'nailed it'.

2) The aforementioned camera was within a foot of my face and willing me to produce at least one or two tears for 'effect'.

3) My phone rang twice from a withheld number at the exact time that we had been told that the successful applicants would be notified. (Somehow, despite the fact that the whole evening was focused around my phone receiving one of the most important phone call of my life so far, I had managed to accidentally hang up on the first call, and been too busy visiting the wee wee shop for the second).

4) My friends seemed to have developed a new propensity for using the word 'f**k' in every sentence, especially during important moments of filming, so the whole scene is going to have to be bleeped out if it airs - not a good look.

Yes, the situation as a whole was pretty undesirable really, and the aftermath of the situation isn't looking much prettier.

I sit here in my friend's flat in my joggers (I must've subconsciously packed them in anticipation of this exact scenario). Remnants of last night's party are strewn around me, and the only amusement I'm managing to find in life right now, is realising how accurate my comparison of this whole situation to a relationship really was.

For a month now I've been in such an intense whirlwind romance with Tourism Queensland that it was only ever going to end in tears (my tears, unfortunately). QT had all the power from day one and I gave up everything in a desperate attempt to secure a future for us together and daydreamed about what could be. One short, impersonal email later, followed by a phone call from a receptionist, and it was all over. I'd been used. One month of free PR and QT got it's friend to make the call. Gutted.

So this is phase one of the break up blues I guess. Lying on the sofa while my friends bring me tea and biscuits to 'cheer me up' and give me reassuring shoulder squeezes, telling me it's going to be ok. I don't believe them yet of course. Right now it's taking all my will power to stop myself from calling to find out where it all went wrong or looking at QT's webpage to stalk it's new loves. "Don't worry, there are plenty more fish in the sea, you just need to get yourself fishing again", my best friend Michelle says, stroking my unwashed hair and giving me her best 'I understand your pain' look.

She's right. QT may have been a good catch, but there are plenty more fish in the sea and they don't all live in the Great Barrier Reef. There are 194 other countries out there for me to explore and I'm certain I will go on to find another job that a really love. I'm gonna keep my chin up, be grateful for the time we did spend together and look back on this chapter of my life with fond memories. I've learnt a lot through this relationship and I will take that with me as I look for my next adventure.

Also, on the plus side, Ben (a fellow Brit) did manage to get himself selected and I'm delighted for him. I think he'll do a bloody good job and I sincerely hope he goes on to win it. I wish him all the best. For now though, I'm off to call Holly (who also got dumped) for a good chat about our lost love. I'll get over it - I just need a bit of closure.

What's so great about the Great Barrier Reef anyway? I went there for 2 weeks and it rained the whole time ;)

The fate wait...

Today could be the last time I ever have to sell a beanbag.

It could, of course, also be the last time I hear from QT, and the start of the biggest anticlimax of my life so far. Yes, those are the two possibilities ahead of me and I have absolutely no idea which one it will be.

This is the worst butterflies in the stomach moment I have ever experienced... At least with exam results and my degree result, I had a vague idea of what I was expecting and there was never really the possibility of complete failure. 

That's the thing about this situation - there's no 2nd place. It's literally all or nothing. A beautiful house, a beautiful island, a perfect job, excellent career prospects, the opportunity to learn and experience incredible things, and a £70 grand salary to round it off. OR - no home, no island, no job, no prospects, and no money.

Damn, it seems like quite a gamble... and there's nothing I can do about it now.

Fingers crossed! (except my forth and fifth fingers on my right hand of course. As mentioned before - I have some trouble with this particular combination.)

Boy Trouble

Today, I have mostly been daydreaming about life on the Great Barrier Reef.

It's dangerous territory for sure. Now is not really the time to be remembering those sun-kissed, glorious days on the pristine white sands, or those wondrous diving adventures teeming with colourful marine life. No, two more days and it could all be over - my little heart crushed and those splendid memories back where they came from: in the 'maybe again one day, if you happen to win the lottery' box.

Really, I should forget about Australia and spend this time preparing my CV, sending off my writing to potential employers and looking forward to a good old British summer - in case the news on Thursday night isn't good. Yes, that was what I planned to spend my day doing, but I was fooling nobody.

I stumbled down the stairs and entered the kitchen. "Good morning little Lane, how are you today?" enquired Adelaide's Mum.
"50% excited, 50% nervous" I answered, "Oh, and good morning to you, too."
"Hmm..." Adelaide's Mum continued. "We need to do a life wheel for you."
(Adelaide's Mum is a creative life coach and has a variety of tricks up her sleeve to illustrate the fact that your life is never quite as sound as you think it is.)
"What? Why? I haven't even had breakfast yet!" I stuttered.
"Yes, that's exactly the point. It's 8am and you're already talking about the Great Barrier Reef again."
"That's a bit of a wild accusation!" I retorted, a little defensively, "I haven't said anything about the reef AT ALL!"
"No, but you implied it. You implied with your percentages that your entire life is consumed by this job."
"Ok, fair enough," I said, contemplatively, "I suppose, if I'm honest, those percentages were a little inaccurate - at least 10% of me is probably hot cross buns at the moment".
She laughed. "I wondered why the bread bin was empty! I'm serious though, there's more to your life than work you know. What about your family, your health, etc? You need to re-shuffle those percentages and make room for other things. You've been back from travelling three weeks now and you still haven't seen a doctor about Billy and the boys*."

She was right. That's the thing about Adelaide's Mum - she always is. I really should have seen a doctor. It's about four months ago now that I wrote a blog about contracting parasites in India. It's been so long, in fact, that it's become a bit of a running joke between my friends and family. They invite 'Sarah and co.' round for dinner, and write on invitations 'feel free to bring a +1 (Sarah Louise - you can bring +50)', and other such witty comments. She was so right. I couldn't just ignore this because an amazing job opportunity had arisen - my health is important to me. I decided there and then to finally get myself to the doctors.

It was too late to make an appointment, so I braved 'sit and wait' surgery. After an hour and a half of trying not to breath (because I was convinced the girl in the next seat was coughing some sort of contagious disease over me), I was finally in. I explained the situation to the doctor and she looked at me, tilted her head, and gave me a reassuring look. "Don't worry," she said, kindly. "It sounds as if you probably did have some form of parasite, but these things just die off after a couple of months, so you should be fine now."

I should have been happy. But, instead, I felt a pang of sadness. Without realising it, I had grown quite accustomed to the idea of sharing my belly with a few extra friends. These guys weren't just parasites to me - they were a part of my life. We'd been through a lot together. My friends and family loved them like their own, I'd planned a future for them in Australia, hell - I was still blaming 50% of my food consumption on them! To think that they'd just left without even so much as a goodbye was... well... sad really.

Still, at least I know I'm all fit for the island now. I may be 0% parasite, but I'm still ridiculously excited, and even with my small percentages of nerves, fear and hot cross buns... I've decided I'm still leaving a little bit of space for daydreaming about Australia. Whatever the outcome of this job, I know I'll return again someday - even if I do have to win the lottery first...

*For my new readers:
Billy = My fictional (I hope) tapeworm, created by my friends to explain my insatiable appetite, yet complete lack of growth.
The boys = The parasites I believe I contracted in India that caused me to sleep continuously for 3 whole days, throw up a few times, and seriously push the boundaries of friendship between myself and my travel buddy at the time.

Starting the day with a bang

This morning I woke up and had a 'lightbulb' moment...

Lying in bed, I reflected on the beautiful moment whilst making my application video, when my llama decided it wasn't cut out for such a show-biz lifestyle and spat in my face as I attempted to film it. I lay there feeling a little sad that such delightful footage was now in the hands of a thief, when I suddenly remembered that I had copied my memory card onto CD before my USB stick had been stolen. Was it possible that the out-takes from my video were on it, and had survived? Surely I would've copied that clip, along with plenty of other failed filming attempts involving various confused Peruvians?

I jumped out of bed and rooted through my travel bag until found the CD. Eagerly posting it into my laptop, I crossed my fingers in anticipation, muttering "come on, come on!" under my breath. 

Unfortunately, it seems I didn't think to copy the footage I wasn't using for the video, and only two sorry out-takes survive. Sadly, the CD had also been made the day before I had filmed the llama-spitting glory, so you will have to imagine how funny that was (Oh Lord - it really, really was funny).

On the plus side, I also found a mini stick of dynamite in my bag that I'd completely forgotten about. Apparently I've been carrying it around with me for two whole months, ever since it was given to me in a Bolivian mine back in January. Nice. I'm not sure how impressed US airport security would have been, had they found it in my hand luggage on my flight back to the UK. Sure, it's only small, but I don't think that would necessarily have been considered an adequate explanation for smuggling explosives onto an aeroplane...

Imaginary conversation:

US Airport Security: "S'cuse me Ma'am...what's this?" (points at dynamite)
Me: "Erm... a stick of dynamite?"
US Airport Security: "Ma'am, I'm afraid I can't allow you to take that onto the aeroplane"
Me: "Oh come on... it's only little!"
US Airport Security: "Oh, ok (winks)... run along then scamp..."

Still, luckily they didn't find it, so Adelaide and I set it off in the garden.

It wasn't as impressive as I'd hoped.

“All journeys have secret destinations, of which the traveller is unaware.” - Martin Buber

Bed Blogs

Mental Note:

Never walk into a room full of strangers in your sister's house and announce, "Michelle, I'm just going to go and blog in your bed". 

It won't be received very well.

Breakfast at Sissy's

When your day starts with the question: "Is it wrong for me to consume a naked picture of my little sister?", and is closely followed by your elder sibling emerging from the kitchen with your little legs dangling from her mouth, spraying your icing limbs all over you as she laughs -you know it's going to be a good day.

"I'm not naked, I'm wearing a bikini, so you're fine" I answered. "Eating bikini-clad pictures of your sister is perfectly acceptable. What's wrong, is the fact that you're eating cake for breakfast, and said cake is now three days old."

So, three days on from close of votes and what has my life become? Well, I've temporarily moved in with my friend Adelaide, which is basically the same thing as living in a 5* hotel, but without the bill. Her catch phrases are "I've just made some fresh coffee, would you like some?", and "just to let you know, I've turned on your electric blanket, so it will be all warm when you get in bed". Heaven. All my friends are green with envy and attempting to feign homelessness to get the same royal treatment.

On the negative side, my dire money situation left me with no choice but to face up to the two options ahead of me:

1) To take a promo job selling bean bags, which would destroy my soul but provide me with instant cash.

2) To die on the street.

It probably shouldn't have taken me as long to decide as it did. But, when you've had the best job in the world dangling in front of your nose for a few weeks, it's difficult to return to a job where the highlight of your day is eating two free packets of Mars Planets that another promo girl is giving out. By the end of hour one of my first shift, I'd already used up all of my standard time-passing techniques*, and had to harness all my willpower to prevent myself from running out of the door during the remaining 7 hours of beany hell.

Today, though, is a glorious day. It's my day off, and voting is over! I've had breakfast at Sissy's and now I'm finally ready to face the world and socialise again. I can have coffee with friends without having to slip in the words "Have you voted today?", I can sit and watch the world go by in Trafalgar Square, read my book, and dance the night away in a latino bar. Yes. That's what Sarah Lou shall do...

Have a good day all...

*1. Working out how all of the signs within my peripheral vision would be written in Spanish and German.

2. Tap dancing.

3. Testing to see if I am yet able to link my forth finger over my fifth finger on my right hand, without the aid of my left hand (annoyingly this is still a no).

4. Imagining what my surroundings would have looked like in the Tudor era (this was pretty redundant in a building built in the 1900's).

QT vs Boyfriend

10 reasons why Queensland Tourism is a bit like a really bad boyfriend...

1) You never know what it's thinking.
2) It made you do a psychometric test before it would consider taking things further.
3) It owns a collection of videos of other girls it's also interested in.
4) It's always judging you and comparing you to others.
5) You pour your heart out to it in a 500 word email and have to wait three weeks for a response.
6) It offers you everything and promises you nothing.
7) You know for a fact that it's recently spent a significant amount of time searching the internet for pornography involving a Russian Blonde.
8) It only likes you for your video.
9) There's the constant possibility of it rejecting you because it prefers another girl.
10) If it does dump you, it's going to be by email.

Still, QT, I pledge thee my undying love...

Congratulations Clare for absolutely whipping all of our butts and bagging the wild card. I hope that if all goes well, I will meet you and some of the other internationals at the next round...

Sarah Louise

An Absolute success...

'Tis the final day of wild card votes guys, so I trust you are all busy voting away (for ME, Simon - don't be tempted by the sensual lure of those foreign females...). I've done the maths and I need 147,000 votes to win this, so if you could each set up 100 email accounts today, we may just swing it yet...

So, I'm currently sitting on the floor of a central London bank and have just unplugged a lamp so I can charge my laptop and write to you. Not sure if this is socially acceptable behaviour, but when you've got to blog, you've got to blog...

Judging by the number of texts that have just crippled the last, unstable leg of my poor, pre-historic phone's life - most of you already know this... but, for the audibly unaware amongst you -I managed to blag myself a live studio interview on the Absolute (formerly Virgin) breakfast show this morning. Score! It's amazing what a few bikini clad cakes and a little bit of press release banter can get you...

I did intend to lavish the radio staff with the remainder of my creative cake selection, however, the 4.30 am start to my day induced me into a trainy trance for the majority of my journey to Absolute. Consequently, I accidentally left my bag of cakes on the carriage as I alighted... (better the cakes than my laptop, at least). I can only imagine the joy some unsuspecting soul had this morning - calling security for a terrorist bomb alert - only to find 24 little fairy cakes with a semi-nude girl prancing around on each icing topper...

The breakfast show was great fun and they offered me a job if I don't manage to secure the 'best job in the world', so it's a win/win situation really (although I'm 99% sure they were joking). The BBC filmed the whole thing plus a couple of extra bits, and I also secured an interview for Southern FM and persuaded an internet cafe full of people to place their votes. It's been a pretty busy morning.

Listen to audio here

Right, I'm being moved on... apparently it's not a customer's right to rearrange bank furniture for their own convenience. Fair enough really.

On one last note, may I wish Miss Cat Lane the happiest of happy 24th birthdays. I pray that we reunite for belated birthday celebrations on Hamilton Island...

Have a good day folks...

Sahara xx

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” - St. Augustine