I read something on someone’s blog that it is a nice idea to mention your follow Fridays on your blog. I think this is a good idea, so I am giving it a go. I think it is more personal and you can say more about them. I also think it is far too easy just to hit the username and stick hundreds of them on your list without due care and attention, I know I have done this myself. But I want to put more thought into it and recognise the people who I have come to meet and have taken the time chat. I asked someone the other day who has and is following thousands of people how they keep up with them all, they said that people are not all on-line at the same time, but surely, and I find this with just the few hundred that I follow and the ones that follow me, I don’t have the time to chat with everyone. And this weekend is a prime example of this. On Sunday my followers increased by over a hundred because of the #duncansdreams, which is great but are people just following for the sake of following? I like to take a moment to look at their bio and read their last tweets, look at their blogs, before I follow someone, quality rather than quantity. Anyway I’m not sure what you think, I would be interested to know.

The main reason I have chosen these lovely people this week because I have had great chats with them, so here are this week’s special people who I would like you to follow….

My top five of the week

@Tonyletts

Even though this gentleman is a new follower for me this week, already I have chatted with him. I think he has a great sense of humour, a dry wit, and his blog is very interesting to read. I find it hard to concentrate on some people’s blogs, I’m not a great reader, but his kept my attention.

@blogyourworld

Now this gentleman does not need much promoting as he already has thousands of followers, but I would like to considering he seems a very busy person, he does take the time to answer you and chat. I think he is very knowledgeable in the workings of the cyber world, and comes across as an alright kind of guy.

@The_Moiderer

I enjoy reading this lady’s tweeters and she has a fabulous blog. She is a mother of a young little girl and I enjoy hearing about her daily trials and tribulation, it takes me back to the time I had little ones and makes me glad I don’t have to be doing that again. She always chats back with you and seems generally a nice and funny person.

@timjana

Now this gent is very funny, says random stuff sometimes but on the whole he seems a good guy. He again always chats with you, has interesting tweets and always seems upbeat, I sometimes don’t understand what he is talking about but that’s the appeal I think. Oh and he has nice views in his garden.

@tuboria

Now this lady is just an all round love. She is from Holland and has a cute dog called Bobbie. You are guaranteed that this lovely will always chat with you and she will always answer you if you tweet something, I think she likes chatting with lots of different people.

The thing is there are loads of lovelies I wanted to put on this week, but I did limit myself, otherwise it not about quality. I’m sorry if you are not on this week, maybe you will be next week. Now if I was clever enough and knew how to do it I would have put a link to these peoples twitter so you could follow them instantly, but I don’t know how to do that, maybe someone could help me with that!!

First day had arrived and after travelling seven hours with large full red trunk in tow, we finally arrived and drove up the gravel driveway. The only way I can describe it is something out of ‘Sense and Sensibility’. Bearing in mind I was looking at this through the eyes of an eleven year old everything looked enormous, the building was majestic, an original Rothschild mansion. The main entrance was over towered by two stone pillars which looked like they were guarding the wooden doors and what was beyond. I was in ore and feeling apprehensive to even getting out of the car. There was what seemed like, hundreds of cars with little wide eyed faces peering out of their car windows, being guided were to park, I had arrived. Were to go now? Walking between the stone guards we went up the staircase and into the lobby area which was floor to ceiling covered in photos of people past, royalty, cups and certificates. Gave them my name and was pointed towards a door. When I walked through the door what I saw to me was just this mystical place, a grand stairway going up, doors, pillars, marble floor, and a huge glass window which the height of the hall looking into a room which was the first dance studio I saw, but this studio was no ordinary dance studio that I had seen before. It was panelled with oak, had gargoyles glaring down at you, two fire places that you could stand in, barres, mirrors, and a grand piano situated in the large bay windows. We were told to put my trunk in the ballet room, which was one of the doors off the hallway. Yet another studio, this one was decorated in pale blue, again had a fire place, barres, mirrors and another grand piano. The room was jammed with trunks all sizes and colours, in joined my red one. What next? We wondered around aimlessly taking in the surroundings found two more studios off the main hallway. One a red room which looked out to the back gardens, where there was tennis courts. A room, which was a ballroom, the grandest room yet. It had a fireplace that had two marble angels either side hovering, glaring over you. The scent of the whole place was dust. There were many clusters of parents with their offspring all doing the same as us, wondering around not quite know what was going to happen next. Then it was indicated that the parents had to leave their blossoms. Now as far as I can remember I could not wait for my parents to leave, not even watching them go it was kind of a ‘ya right then bye’, then they were gone. I wish in hindsight that I had savoured their leaving because this was the last time I was to see them or speak to them for seven weeks. A bit like the doors in ‘porridge’, bang our sentence began.

Well my bank holiday weekend ended up being an epic adventure, it started Saturday morning by me waking up earlier than usual because I am as bad as the kids, I was excited. I had booked months ago tickets to see Andre Reiu in concert in Vienna, they had cost a small fortune and they were tricky to get. So the weekend had come finally not only a weekend away but the beginning of my half term holiday. The concert was due to start at 7.30 that evening, but that was ok because the plane got into Vienna at 5.30, plenty of time. My brother in law took us to Heathrow, we left at nine and arrived at one.  Was dropped off at Heathrow said our ‘goodbyes’ and in we went.

Gracie my travelling partner

  Look no queues!

They said to go to arrivals to get the bag, so off we went to try and get out of the departure lounge. We walked all the way back to the duty free area and back to security where we came in, but they sent us back near to the gate again, who sent us back up again, how do we get out, help! Well of cause we were in a secure area so we found another security guy who said we needed to go to immigration, which was down there, round the corner, in a lift up to the next level, off we set again to find immigration, one women on a desk sent us down the wrong corridor, so back up the corridor to find more security men who let us through a secure gate, we found the lift then up to immigration, we found it, but of cause this is where everyone goes when they get off their plane and come into the country, so we joined the queue and got our passports ready to show. Interesting showing our passport to get back in when we had not been anywhere. We went up to the desk, ‘where have you been travelling from madam?’, ‘gate 56’ we replied. We did get a strange look, but then we went into our spill, the same story that had been repeated several times. So she had a little smile, one that said ‘ya good luck finding your bag’ smile, gave us our passports and off we went to the baggage reclaim. Well which conveyer belt would it be coming in on? Found the information desk, such a helpful man, not, after we and others from the Vienna flight waited for him to finish his conversation on the phone, asked were our luggage would be, he said one and pointed. So we waited. As you can see from the photo, not much action going on. It

  Where’s our bag?

 was at this point I said ‘I need a larger’. Again we were in a secure area, we asked the security man if we went out of this area would we be able to get back in, he said yes as long as we were escorted back by security. I thought it was worth it for a larger, so out we went. Found a bar back where we started, had a pint, then trotted or should I say floated back to see if bag had turned up yet. Found the gate that we needed to get through to the other side. As the bag was in my name I was the only one allowed through, off came the shoes again, passport out, I had four security people watching me, bearing in mind I had had a pint of larger on an empty stomach, I had to use all my concentration to stay up right to balance to get my shoes off. It’s like when you are a teenager and have been drinking trying to act sober in front of your parents, I was starting to get the giggles. I walked through the metal detector and a big serious woman was waiting for me. ‘Arms out straight’, she did a full body search, she was so through, she checked my mouth, luckily I was chewing a piece of gum so I don’t think she smelt the larger. I thought any minute now she is going to slap some rubber gloves on and ask me to bend over. Another security man escorted me to my bag, it was there, a miracle. Out I went with the bag, now get to the hotel that we had booked, it was only 10 minutes away, so how hard could that be. £60 for the taxi, £95 for the hotel room later, at least we had a bed for the night. Sunday morning we thought we would get our monies worth in the breakfast. Even that did not go right. The tables were dirty, the food was cold, cold coffee, no veggie option, had to ask for clean cups and saucers, so off I went and had a little chat with the duty manager.  All in all, what a weekend, thanks BMI.