DAYS 174 – 175: Put your foot down

My morning ritual of “cereal before the telly” was welcomed by another wave of melancholia.  The turbulent tone of the newsreader reminded me of an unexpected terrorist attack; as my part of the world drifted off into the night, the rest of the world was greeted with another series of devastating events involving floods, earthquakes, derailed trains, sexual abuse, and a looming war that most nations are eager to encourage.

I’ve often felt that as mere mortals, the gods seem to be moving us around as chess pieces in an nerve-racking game of “Intimidation”.  Depressing news alters my emotional status and encourages an outburst  in the kitchen, whereas a bout of joyful updates arouse motivation . 

After fifteen minutes of disastrous reports, I feel that I have spent the first part of my morning reading through the obituaries of the local newspaper.  I subconsciously close the door behind me and spend the next few minutes feeling anxious about the day.

As I drive down to my office, I am oblivious to the exceptional view of the Mediterranean coast.  The “glass-half-empty” attitude has overpowered my mind, and I find myself searching for all the negative aspects of my hometown: a plethora of shops have closed down due to the economic virus which has gripped the island of Cyprus, unemployment is at an all time high, people have lost their ability to smile, the government is on the warpath to expose the fraudulent activity of the ruthless, a child is knocking on my window asking for a small donation, and the radio has Sinatra singing, “And now, the end is near. And so I face the final curtain…”

It’s time to put my foot down.  Thankfully, my eating habits have mellowed since my last binging episode.  The weekend saw me consuming a large slice of carrot cake as I tried to convince myself of the benefits to eating a vegetable-based treat. 

I was delighted to touch base with a wonderful individual who re-directed my impure eating habits to a healthier buffet of wheat-free products. This expiremental phase of natural foods has detoxed my body to the extent that an adult diaper has been placed under my buns in the event of any mishap.

As I begin my protest of abstinence from any news network, I will be leaning towards the music channels to satisfy my morning’s entertainment.  I am currently rehearsing for an upcoming television series for one of the local networks and I am determined to deliver a promising performance.  Keeping positive will certainly play its part.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 170 – 173: It’s a Boy!

The wait for the royal baby and the future monarch ended on Monday 22 July after a day of sweltering speculation when it was announced that the Duchess of Cambridge had given birth to a boy.

The baby, the third in line to the throne and the first Prince of Cambridge in 190 years, was born at 4.24pm weighing 8lbs 6oz with his father present at the private Lindo Wing of St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington, west London.

The announcement by Kensington Palace shortly after 8pm ended a day of increasingly febrile media reporting after it emerged that the Duchess had gone into hospital at 6am - avoiding the massed ranks of cameras via a side entrance - while in the early stages of labour.

News of the birth was posted in accordance with tradition by a royal footman on an ornate “Roccoco revival-style” easel inside the railings of Buckingham Palace as a crowd gathered outside celebrated. It was also confirmed that Kate, 31, and her son were “doing well” and will remain in hospital overnight.

In an unusually forthright statement, Prince Charles announced that he was relishing the prospect of grandfatherhood, announcing that he and Camilla were “overjoyed.”

The heir to the throne said: “Grandparenthood is a unique moment in anyone’s life, as countless kind people have told me in recent months, so I am enormously proud and happy to be a grandfather for the first and we are eagerly looking foward to seeing the baby in the near future.”

Prime Minister David Cameron, taking to Twitter along with Labour leader Ed Milliband, said the Duke and Duchess will  make “wonderful parents,” adding: “The whole country will celebrate.” Mr Milliband said: “I wish them and their son all happiness and good health.”

While the arrival of a boy postpones for another generation the dilemma of resolving outstanding sexist constitutional wrinkles that a daughter to William and Kate might have created, the public is likely to have to wait longer to know their future ruler’s name.

In a move which will doubtless delight bookies, some of whom immediately elevated “James” as favourite for the royal moniker, it could be at least a day before the name chosen by the couple is revealed. In the case of the royal baby’s paternal grandfather, it was not announced until almost a month after his birth that he had been called Charles.

The birth after a labour of less than 12 hours brought relief not only to the nation but also the serried rows of television news anchors gathered on the pavement outside the Lindo Wing who suddenly found themselves have to provide rolling news coverage on what one BBC correspondent admitted was “no news.”

The 6am arrival of Kate and William at a side entrance to the hospital brought with it a terse 45-word statement the 31-year-old duchess was in the early stages of labour and “things are progressing as normal.”

But the arrival of the couple in a convoy of Range Rovers and BMWs was sufficient to bring the buzz of speculation about the royal birth over the airwaves and the internet for the past week to a fresh crescendo as hundreds of broadcasters, photographers and assorted royal hangers-on jostled for position outside the £6,000-a-night unit.

Under the blistering heat of the hottest July day since 2006, representatives of 150 television stations (along with some 300 photographers) repeated in mantra-like fashion the most likely names for the royal baby and the expert view that most labours last 12 hours.

The royal baby is one of around 2,000 children born every day in the UK. Yet whilst the third in line to the throne can expect a life unimaginable to its cohort of subjects with whom it will share a birthday, all babies can anticipate a longer span than their parents before them.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 166 – 169: London Heat

Temperatures are soaring;  England’s Queen Elizabeth keeps cool in a wide-brimmed bonnet as she sets off to meet England's Ashes cricket team at Lords.  Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg reveals he has stopped wearing shoes (and socks) in his government office to prevent his feet from overheating, Kate Middleton is encouraged to eat curry to kick-start labour, a Royal Guard sweats in the heat outside St James' Palace in central London, and a hungry horse orders an ice-cream at the Dovey Estuary in Mid-Wales.

Enduring a lengthy summer is a prerequisite for most Southern Europeans; the temperature in Cyprus seldom sways from the thirty-nine degree mark as I justify the pool of water on my t-shirt when talking to the bank manager.  If Cyprus was a crime-stricken country, I would certainly fit the profile of a neurotic bank robber.

And, having three people trapped in my mammoth-sized figure inspires me to find refuge in an air-conditioned office as I sip on my frozen yoghurt and stare at the sluggish pace of the office clock.

Reverting to my favourite city, London is often referred to by my wife as an “exciting city with the worst luck in weather.”

“If the weather were different, and if London had the sea, I would move there at the skip of a heartbeat.”

The gods are certainly smiling upon me now, as I enter phase two of my relocation programme; the extended British summer has yielded me towards the south coast, to a city called Brighton.

My presentation would have to include the benefits of living in this idyllic part of the world; a movie titled ‘Wimbledon’ will certainly convince my spouse to at least consider this seaside resort, and with London being less than an hour away by train, I may have found the winning formula.

My diet seems to be under control these days, although I am seriously considering an outburst over the weekend.  An overpowering Greek family chomping on a pecan nut waffle with vanilla ice cream (on Sunday at my mother’s house) definitely trumps my low-fat rice pudding with its pitiful ‘dust’ of cinnamon. 

But the summer heat has an adverse effect on my dietary intake.  Most ‘normal’ people are inclined to limit their heavy meals this time of year, and one often observes the masses flaunting their water bottles as “the essential accessory.”  I am inclined to spoil The Three Tenors, the uncontrollable trio hiding within my body, with a generous helping of Spaghetti Napoletana.  A side-serving of toasted Greek bread, drizzled with a copious marriage of olive oil and dry oregano; a glass of red wine and an extended session of “siesta on the couch.”

As Londoners continue to bask in the glorious sunshine, removing their shoes and socks as they cool off in one of the city’s luscious parks, perhaps Kate Middleton would consider the troop of photographers, absorbing the scorching rays while gathered outside St Mary’s hospital, and finally take a bite of that blessed chicken curry – then everyone could finally go home.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 163 – 165: A Bit of Everything

Every morning, I find myself fixed to the screen of my television set, absorbing the latest news.  A bowl of cornflakes or bran (depending on my mood) in one hand, I casually flick through the various networks, until a lead story seizes my attention. 

As is the case with most of the news channels, the main story is communicated verbally by a smart-looking presenter, while a plethora of other news headlines flash simultaneously before us on the subtitle strip below. 

My multi-tasking capabilities are in full swing as I manage my bowl of cereal, television remote, reading and listening skills – all at the same time.

Believe in Miracles

Nelson Mandela, the former apartheid campaigner, has been hospitalised for more than five weeks for a recurring lung infection.  There have been conflicting reports over the state of the former South African president, most of which suggest that the anti-apartheid activisit has actually passed away.  The morning news has officially reported that Nelson Mandela is in a stable condition and will soon be discharged.

Tighter Gun Legislation

America is gripped by a second night of fury over the “not guilty” verdict for neighbourhood watchman George Zimmerman, who shot a black teenager armed only with a bag of ‘Skittles’.

And, in true ‘campaigning’ spirit, President Barack Obama issues a statement describing the teenager's shooting death in Florida last year as a “tragedy for America,” while using the opportunity to renew his calls for tighter gun legislation across the United States.

Royal Baby Watch

The world's media waited in the summer heat outside the private London hospital on Saturday where Prince William's wife Catherine will give birth, as the expected due date arrived with no sign of the royal heir.

A rumour that the Duchess of Cambridge had gone into labour on Thursday spread like wildfire on Twitter and reportedly caused Prime Minister David Cameron's office to call Buckingham Palace to check on it.

It was another false alarm, but the dozens of international journalists camped outside St Mary's Hospital are on tenterhooks, knowing that it could happen any day now.

While Kate Middleton leans towards a more slower pace, royal cousin-in-law Zara Phillips took to the field during the Brightling Park International Horse Trials in East Sussex. The Queen's granddaughter, who announced her first pregnancy last week, looked calm and in control as she sped around the course - watched by husband, Mike Tindall.

Although NHS advice states that mothers-to-be should avoid equine sports, Miss Phillips has said that she intends to continue riding for the foreseeable future. Her mother, Princess Anne, kept riding until just six weeks before the birth of her daughter and was also a successful eventer.

Goodbye Cory

Glee star Cory Monteith had spent his last hours enjoying an evening out with friends before he tragically passed away of unknown causes while alone in a hotel room.  The 31-year-old – who completed a stint in rehab in April for substance addiction and appeared to be 'happy and healthy' in recent months – was out in Vancouver before returning alone to his Fairmont Pacific Rim Hotel in the city.

No cause of death has been confirmed at this point but there was said to be no implications of foul play.

No Lottery

After my five hundredth attempt at the National Lottery, I have won a staggering three Euros from last night’s winning draw.  It’s business as usual until next Sunday.

Cyprus Heat

The heat in Cyprus has depleted all my energy levels.  After an exhausting weekend of sun-tanning and pool-dipping, I have resumed my working week under primitive circumstances; the humidity levels are soaring and there is no sign of a possible rain shower.

Adding to the misery, we are reminded, yet again, that today marks the anniversary of our divided island, following the unlawful invasion of Turkish troops on the northern parts of Cyprus in 1974.  After ongoing attempts to ‘fight’ this oppression, Turkey continues to violate every humanitarian right, insisting that all Greek Cypriots (living in the European-acknowledged South) should present their passports to gain entry into the northern part of the island.

On the morning of the 15^th July 1974, Turkish forces came to occupy over one third of the territory of Cyprus. Some 40,000 Turkish troops remain in the occupied areas, and Cypriot and Turkish forces face each other across a cease-fire line administered by the UN.

As an immediate consequence of the invasion thousands of Greek Cypriots were killed, others forced to leave their homes, churches and cemeteries were desecrated and centuries old artifacts looted.

Now You See Me

The weekend was complimented by an evening at the cinemas.  NOW YOU SEE ME pits an elite FBI squad in a game of cat and mouse against ‘The Four Horsemen’ – a super-team of the world’s greatest illusionists.  ‘The Four Horsemen’ pull off a series of daring heists against corrupt business leaders during their performances, showering the stolen profits on their audience while staying one step ahead of the law.

Work

After spending three minutes at work, my opinion remains unaltered.  It appears that the corporate environment I work for has hit an iceberg (three months ago), yet no-one is sounding the bell to announce abandonment.  The ship is slowly sinking and I’m beginning to wander if there are any lifeboats on deck.

Dreams

I’ve been dreaming of dead people.  My spiritual magnetism has attracted all those who have crossed over to visit me on a regular basis.  Although I am delighted to reunite with most of my family and friends, their enigmatic expressions and riddle messages inspire me to embark on an internet surfing adventure.  Having visited sites on ‘Dream Interpretation’, I am compelled to seek professional advice from Theresa Caputo – “The Long Island Medium.”

My courageous email to Theresa has been sent; hopefully the spirits will encourage her to reciprocate.

Demo Reel

At the advice of talent and casting agents alike, I have formulated a short demo reel showcasing my talent.  The six-minute profile booster can be viewed at the following link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVFTo8uq0mI&feature=c4-overview&list=UUNvKSkeOrZXcn8TBgeSZq3w

Predictions

My Horoscope has revealed that it’s finally the right time for me to put an end to any selfish thoughts or desires – or at least to put a hold on them. My social energy is more valuable right now, and I can get more out of helping others than from helping myself.

So, here’s hoping that a wealthy individual will be able to part with some extra cash, and I’ll gladly show them how and where to use it.  Keep Positive.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 160 - 162: Who moved my Cheese?

A group of old school friends is gathered for dinner and the topic of conversation gets on to change - in career, relationships and family life. One of those present contends that change no longer bothers him after having heard 'a funny little story' called Who Moved My Cheese? In this artful way, Spencer Johnson introduces the reader to his fable on how to cope positively with change.

The story involves four characters who live in a maze: the mice Scurry and Sniff, and two 'littlepeople', Hem and Haw. All is going well because they have found a huge source of their favourite food, cheese.

Hem and Haw have even moved their houses to be near it and it has become the centre of their lives. But they do not notice that it is getting smaller, and are devastated when they arrive at the site one morning and find the cheese is gone.

This is where the story splits in two. Scurry and Sniff quickly accept the loss of the cheese and go off into the maze in search of other sources. The littlepeople, because they have built their lives around the big cheese, feel they are the victim of some kind of fraud or theft. Yet this only makes things worse, as their clinging on ensures that they go hungry. Meanwhile, the mice move on and find new cheese.

The fable captures well that moment after we have lost a job or a relationship and we believe it is the end of the world. All the good things were in the previous situation, and all the future holds is fear.

Yet Johnson's message is, instead of seeing change as the end of something, we must learn to see it as a beginning. We have all been told this, but sometimes motivation is lacking. To make himself accept reality, Haw writes this on the wall of the maze: "If you do not change, you can become extinct."

For life not to be wasted, it demands a level of risk and adventure. If you are willing to live this way, change loses its horror. In fact, the advancing person purposely creates change because the world is not currently how they would like it.

What the littlepeople, Hem and Haw, discover is that breaking through your fears makes you free. Those who continually seek security, ironically, are wracked by the possibility that they may lose it.

While the book addresses the fact of change in all aspects of our lives, given how many offices it circulates in, it would be fair to say that its main message relates to work. Most employees are employees because they prefer the security of a set wage under the apparent protection of large enterprise.

For others, the chief benefit may be that for most of the day they do not have to really think; they 'complete tasks'. But such dependence restricts personal growth, in the same way that medieval serfs, while given a roof over their heads on the estate, often never strayed more than a few miles beyond it and could never expect to be truly independent people.

Final word

Many will regard Spencer Johnson's sub-100 page work as trite, but its valuable lesson is easily remembered: Do you have a 'big cheese' in your life that you believe will last forever?

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 159: Aftermath

Trying to recover after a short break of intense sun therapy is virtually impossible.  The sun’s rays beaming down on your lotion-capped body while sipping on an iced cold coffee; the soothing sound of the waves embracing the golden coastline…

A therapist friend once mentioned that it takes twenty-one days to break a habit.  After four dreamlike days at Cyprus’ most popular seaside mecca, the thought of merging back to reality seems unimanageable.  It appears that my body has lost itself in a labyrinth of relaxation, and every corner of this maze reminds me of a habit that needs to be encouraged.

My “holiday hangover” seems to overpower the work force; my colleagues are preparing to escape the office environment – hoping to find the same solace under the blazing Mediterranean sun. 

There’s an element of excitement as we all share similar sentiments of relaxation; I’m yearning for an afternoon by the swimming pool while my wife prepares a light dinner accompanied by a colourful cocktail of Vodka and lime.  The sun begins to set as we marvel at the diminishing ball of fire over the horizon; the evening has suddenly entered the equation as we prepare for another exhausting eight hours of humidity and mosquito nets.

I braved another morning on the bathroom scale, hoping to assess the aftermath from a holiday of limitless calories.  As expected, the scale spun uncontrollably screaming, “Game Over!” as it returned to the starting line. 

My sudden weight gain was predictable; mornings absorbed near a buffet of eggs, bacon, sausages and fried mushrooms.  A centre table presenting an assortment of cold meats and cheeses from every corner of the globe.  A sea of pastries combing the walls of the breakfast room, teasing us with their strawberry and custard cries.

As I squatted my way from the breakfast room to the sunbed, I encouraged myself to refrain from a heavy lunch.  But, the aromas emerging from the grill bar awakened my senses to chicken wings with barbeque sauce. 

The afternoon saw me sipping onto a mocca-flavoured shake with crushed ice, as the waters of the jacuzzi gently caressed my back.

My offensive scale reading informed me that the holiday was officially over.  The mind was served with another sharp reminder that the aftermath of my brief summer vacation had serious repurcussions:  I’m going to be standing in front of the camera soon – and the camera has a nasty habit of making one look larger than an elephant.

It’s rice cakes and apples for one week.  Perhaps I will postpone this treatment until tomorrow; my wife has just informed me that crumbed chicken with sesame seeds is on the menu for tonight’s dinner. 

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,

visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAYS 149 – 158: Dandelions on Water

It was the bitter sound of my alarm clock which greeted me abruptly this morning; a disheartening reminder that my brief pre-summer vacation was over.

As I stormed out of my home, downing my regular blend of coffee and mocca, I drove into town focusing on the time spent with my wife and son by the beach; the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean seemed more alluring than a heap of unanswered emails.

Despite the dark, threatening cloud hovering directly above, I entered my workspace with an arrogant song; I was not prepared to remove the gleams of summer from my mind and merge into an annoyingly fast-paced world.   

My brief moment of utopia was interrupted by an obnoxious work colleague, stating the obvious about my darkly tanned body.  As I diplomatically tried to move myself from conversation, my mind returned to a moment of bliss where I witnessed a dandelion floating majestically towards the surface of the sea.  Making contact with the water, the dandelion burst rhythmically into dance as it spiralled across the ocean – tip-toeing.  Unaffected by the magnetic pull of the water, the dandelion continued its dance nonchalantly, reassured by the wind that its path would be unobstructed.    

Surprised by this natural phenomenon, I pondered on the thought of the dandelion and it’s oblivious attitude towards the other, stronger forces of nature.  Despite the brutal force of the wind, steering it towards the water, the dandelion ignored the external powers and continued its path.  I realised that as humans, it’s in our nature to worry about what other people make of us; an obsession to acquire that “pat-on-the-back” as a sign of reassurance.

Admittedly, I have always fallen victim to this unfortunate battle.  My monstrous body making its way from the sunbed to the swimming pool encourages a mass of eyes judging every overflowing crevasse as I plunge into the water and displace a third of the contents. 

Emerging from the swimming pool resembling the Loch Ness Monster,  I reach for my towel hoping to conceal my tubes of blubber.

But, the dandelion has taught me to ignore the noise from this uninvited fan club.  Walking across the pool deck, I reach for the menu and order my large mocca milkshake; an afternoon of sun therapy has been ordered. I retire on the sunbed, unaware that my modelling session around the swimming pool has been the highlight of the day.

As the sun sets, I wake up to a familiar chant from my wife, summoning me to my hotel room.  Yawning from sheer relaxation, I model my newly-tanned body into the hotel flaunting a new look; the fan club looks on as I wait patiently for the elevator to sound its arrival. 

Upon entry, the doors begin to close and I bid my fan club adieu.  The dandelion has found its resting ground, but tomorrow it will be flying higher than ever – nothing can pull it down.

Weight for me soon. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. 
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com