The one where I spend a few days at Mr X's in Zuma

Tam is still sleeping... and I'm up. It's 6.30am. 7am. 7.30am. I decide to walk on the beach as Tamara and I have Mr X's place for a few days. We're taking a break while he's away. It's a beautiful morning. I've not been this happy in a while. Then... I get a call.

Panic. Is it Mr X? Please don't be Mr X. Please. I know it's my job but please.... I glance down at the phone...

It's only Tamara. "Where am I?" She comes down and joins me as we walk along the beach... Bliss. We're the only people on the beach as we enjoy the early morning.

We spend most of the day eating, the pool's freezing but we decide to jump in. I'm so cold I go on the trampoline to warm up. Tamara, meanwhile is in a wet suit in the pool (yes, it is that cold). So while I'm bouncing and she's swimming... in come the pool men. Boing. Boing. I don't know who's more embarrassed. I think it's me.

Turns out the fuse box is needed to fix the pool. We look for it but nothing so I call the landlady who screams at me for disturbing her. "Sort it out, you're the assistant...," is her scream.
Jesus. I don’t know where the fusebox is. How am I meant to know? I was sorting it out. Hence calling her. But... no joy.

Tamara, thank god, can cook and she whips up salmon, cauliflower cheese, cabbage, carrots and sweet potato mash. I decide, post food, to take another walk along the beach. I try running. Whof. Out of shape. Really out of shape. I think the pumpkin pie didn't help my cause.

Early to bed tonight.

THE NEXT DAY

Up. Breakfast. Starbucks. Then... Ms S turns up. Mr X's housekeeper and I get the riot act about Mr X. How he's going to let me down... the full works AND she's highly suspicious that we're both staying there. She doesn't trust me one bit! But she's been with him for years and loves him dearly (everyone who works with him is amazingly loyal - he inspires incredible loyalty from everyone around him) and I'm just some newcomer in his life. Ha. I think. I'll be sticking around lady so you'd better get used to me. That's what I thought anyway...

I escape Zuma for a while and go shooting with Mr B, Patrick and Ms J. Randomly, well, not that random, Jack Osbourne's there too. He's a friend of Mr B's and has a big gun. Shooting was fantastic. I'm a good shot. The kickback is incredible. I mean, you think you know what to expect and bam, it hits you in the chest.

Next time I go, however, I'm wearing a poloneck. The bullets kept jumping out of the gun, I mean, sorry, the SHELLS and flying down my cleavage. Great. Good. I'm covered with burn marks above my chest. Not pleasant at all. But Mr B thinks it's funny. He's not seen this happen before. And he's been shooting a while. Thank god he was so patient.

Then it was time for my first ever target thing and I was goooooood. It felt gooooood. It's loud as hell though. I really enjoyed my first time at a shooting range and then... it was back to Zuma. Tam’s got cabin fever. We need to leave Zuma again - but where to go?

So... we drive to Mr J’s and go to the world's dodgiest bar. It's so the other side of town. Somewhere on Vineland. I don't even know. I just know that it's around 44 miles away. The bar's fun. There's line dancing and the works. We're the only people there under 40, apart from Toni, the waitress. The reason why I call this bar dodgy? It has a racist statue for a start...(see below). Anyway, we play darts. I'm rubbish. Then Mr J and Ms L get stuck into the line dancing... I'm still looking at the statue (see below).


Jeremy joins us and I leave the bar at 1.30am. It's a 44 mile trip back to Zuma. Aaaargh. By 2.30am Tam and Jeremy turned up... 16 Candles on the big screen before passing out on the sofa.

I might be staying at Mr X's but there's no way I'm sleeping in his bed. Wrong. Very wrong.

Tamara goes back to Jesse's the next day and I'm alone in Zuma. A friend turned up. He freaked me out turning up at 10.30pm. He left quite swiftly but I hardly slept that night.... I think Zuma on my own is not a good idea. No matter how idyllic. Still, it's all over soon, Mr X's back tomorrow which means nose + grindstone. Or... do my job. That's what I'm paid to do. This is Hollywood - I have to remember that.

Bliss while it lasted though...