Goodbye celebrity parties... hello real world

It’s amazing how quickly five years can fly past when you don’t have time to get bored. Which, I know is a peculiar thing to say.
But after working for five years as a professional party girl (my official title was Showbiz Editor but the former seems more fitting) I found myself longing to sit at home and let boredom find me.

I’ve been so lucky with my job and have travelled the world working – to LA for the Oscars, France for the Cannes Film Festival, Ibiza for music interviews and to various far-flung destinations on press trips.
However, after a trip to LA last year, I felt a prang of jealousy when I arrived home, worn out and jet lagged, to see my husband Jimmy sprawled over the sofa laughing at the telly. He told me he’d spend the entire week lying around on the couch, nailing our LoveFilm membership, ordering takeaways (apparently cooking for one is a thankless task, he’s the chef in our house), hanging out with friends and chilling with the cat.

I suddenly didn’t want to tell him about my week trying to track down film stars, chasing after celebrities and jumping into cabs to get an exclusive story. It just seemed so silly.

Working on a showbiz column is great fun. But it’s also full on, seven days a week. Even when you’re not at work, you’re definitely thinking about work, planning stories, finding stories, worrying about stories.
There’s no rest for the wicked and in the eyes of most celebrities, showbiz journalists are the wicked.
My job was to fill my column, six days a week, with celebrity news. I was constantly on the look out, or ear out, for scandalous, juicy but more often than not, funny stories.
I’m not going to exaggerate and stay I’d wake up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat, worrying about what tomorrow expects.
But, it was constantly on my mind, even in the pub with friends, relaxing in the bath, shopping in Tesco, wherever.

The reality is, the showbiz scene has completely changed. It’s nowhere near as fun, raucous or edgy as it once was. The iPhone and Twitter generation put a stop to that. Everybody is a mobile phone paparazzi these days. Celebs don’t stand a chance with endless, random spectators all flashing away on their phones, video blogging, Tweeting etc.
I miss the old days where Sarah Harding would get legless and start mouthing off in a north London boozer, or where Lily Allen and James Corden would be at it all night.

I spent months umming and ahhing. Shall I leave the Goss column? Shall I stay? There were so many plus points for staying, but deep-down I knew I needed a change. Having a hangover every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and then all weekend was starting to get boring. It didn’t seem as much fun anymore.

So after a week at my parent’s holiday home in Devon, I woke up on the last day, sat on the balcony, listening to the waves in the morning sun and thought, “Right that’s it, I’m off.”
I decided in that moment to have one last summer of fun, to go to all the showbiz events I love, my favourite festivals and one final press trip.
I planned to leave the Daily Star on the last day in August. And I did.


After dinner shmoozing

First I was invited by the lovely PR’s at EE to the BAFTAS, which is inevitably always fun and glamorous. The film awards attract proper superstars, none of the TOWIE lot or fading pop star types you see at London parties these days.
After watching the ceremony, I sat down for dinner with the likes of George Clooney, Ben Affleck (so handsome in the flesh), Dame Helen Miran, Samuel L Jackson (beyond cool, he wore a velvet suit jacket, enough said), Anne Hathaway and Quentin Tarantino. It was a brilliant night. And EE put me up in a room at my favourite hotel in London - The Savoy.
God, I love that hotel. The cocktails and the breakfasts are well worth spending the extra dollar on.

A photo I had taken for an Oscars beauty feature

Next was a trip to LA to cover the OSCARS. I was so lucky and stayed in a suite at the plush Montage Hotel in Beverley Hills. I was staying in a room with Dame Shirley Bassey, who was performing at the ceremony. Even writing that now sounds so absurd, and why I was sharing a room with the Welsh superstar is another story all together. I’ll save that for a book, if I ever write one. Daniel Radcliffe was also staying at the same hotel, watching him push his eggs around his plate at breakfast seemed surreal.
I absolutely love Los Angeles, everything about the place is fascinating - the over-friendly shop assistants, brilliantly tacky breakfast joints, huge food portions, cheap but amazing sushi, their excitement for Christmas and Halloween, endless sunshine, walking up Runyon Canyon and seeing the Hollywood sign glistening in the morning sun, strolling along Venice Beach and of course their general admiration for everything dog related. I hope to visit again soon, in a non-work capacity.


Enjoying the Field of Avalon at Glasto

Next was my favourite music festival, Glastonbury. This year I got to take my fella too, which is always a bonus. We slept in a wooden Podpad. Getting a press ticket to Glasto was my No 1 perk as a columnist. I always thanked by lucky stars for that.
Anyway, as always it was a magical week. I’ve banged on loads over the past few months about how incredible the Rolling Stones were on (Twitter/ Facebook), so I’ll refrain from doing it again. But they absolutely nailed it. Mick Jagger and co put all other performers in the shade with their stamina and swagger.
The Arctic Monkeys were awesome too, despite Alex Turner’s new freaky American, Elvis-esque accent.


in the DJ box at Amnesia

I then flew to Ibiza, definitely one of my top three favourite places on the planet, to have dinner and
 interview Boy George. This, as you can imagine was very eventful. I was nervous before meeting him, thinking he’d be an acid-tongued, drama Queen. But he was so down-to-earth and genuinely hilarious. After dinner, I went to Amnesia with him for his DJ set.

I also managed to sneak in a travel feature while on the White Isle at new, luxury hotel Ushuaia Tower. This place really needs to be seen to be believed, it’s so lavish and decadent.
We (me and my best friend Sam) were given a poolside suite to stay in. It was like a footballer’s paradise. Our room had a hot tub on the balcony overlooking the pool and beach, a fully stocked cocktail bar, walk-in rain forest shower, a 50inch flat screen TV, a circular white, leather sofa and a bed big enough for a premiership orgy. Spectacular.
 

Ushauia Tower Hotel

 Aweek later me and Sam flew back from Ibiza on Friday night and headed straight to V festival. Our poor livers.
This was my 7th summer working at V Festival. The backstage VIP area is wall-to-wall journalists and media luvvies. I’m pretty sure the entire journo circuit in London de-camps to Essex for the weekend. So I was able to say goodbye to all my showbiz reporter pals, who I’ve spent years pickling my liver with and getting into boozy mischief.

And that was it, my final summer as a gossip girl.

Being a showbiz columnist felt like the best job in the world, I’m pretty sure at times it was. I interviewed my showbiz idols, went to all the best showbiz parties, premieres and award ceremonies, ate food cooked by the world’s top chefs, flirted with sexy male stars, received numerous goodie bags and drank endless champagne.

But at the end of the day you can’t be a half-hearted showbiz journalist, it just doesn’t work. I decided to do something about it before I became one of those people who moans about their life, despite having loads of privileges. And before my liver packed in once and for all.

So I chose to leave the column and work on making my vital organs healthy again.

Firstly, by starting a intense detox, in the shape of a juice diet.

GQ awards

It's fair to say there are a few perks of my job.
Despite reporting on showbiz event for years I still get excited about drinking free champagne, eating delicious canopies/ cupcakes/ petit fours and going home with a smile on my face and a goodie bag in my hand.
You'd have thought by now this would've run thin but I have to admit I still love showbiz schmoozing, once in a while.
Not to mention meeting fit celebrity men, who you can drool over unashamedly, not looking like a mentalist stalker as it's my 'job' to chat to them.

There are a few nights every year in the annual showbiz calendar that genuinely get me excited.
The GQ awards is definitely one of them.
Picture the scene. A sea of tanned, muscly A list men in crisp, tailored suits. A strong stench of  testosterone clouding up the air of otherwise overwhelming Gucci/ Channel and D&G aftershave.
Tray after tray of champagne flutes, Gin 'n Tonic fishbowls and an array of rum cocktails being passed around by men in sharp waiter suits.
Meanwhile semi-clad ladies handing out mouth-watering plates of Godiva chocolates.
Jason Statham smoking a cigar in one corner, James Corden throwing some shapes in another, Bradley Cooper being manhandled at the bar, Jamie Redknapp looking sublime entering the gents and Abbey Clancey being sized up by every Y chromosome in the place.
Suddenly out of no-where, across the room I look up and spy One Direction. What the heck were they doing here? Surely it's past their bed time? Are they even allowed to drink yet?
And instantly the glamour of 2011 GQ Man Of The Year Awards begins to fade.

Last year I met Noel Gallagher for the first time. What a dude.
I've been a big fan since my early Oasis days circa 1995, when I used to drive around in my mate's cars getting inebriated listening to What's The Story Morning Glory.
Noel was every inch the ultimate celebrity I'd expected. Cocky but calm, handsome yet dishevelled, sharp-tongued but smart and not afraid to say it as it is. He told me he thought JLS were a boring load of tosh, who need to man up and get some rock 'n roll notches. Never a truer word spoken.
Also Mr Jason 'ardman, plastic gangster Statham shouted at me and my sidekick Sonja last year as we tried to get his attention to ask him a question.
He snarled and shouted, literally shouted at the top of his voice (no exaggeration): "INNNNNN AAAAAAA MMMMMINUTE!!!" at us.
To which, we promptly turned on our heels and did one.
No need to act like a twat Statham a simple, "I'm in the middle of a conversation" would have sufficed.
What a tit.
Anyway, back to this year. Here's a few photos we had....
To recap in brief Micheal McIntyre had a ten minute shouting match with his wife after she witnessed him flirting with The Saturdays. We watched the whole drunken debacle unfold in front of our eyes.
Micheal flirting, chatting and generally drooling over Frankie Sandford and Mollie King while his ever patient missus Kitty stood, alone, embarrassed in the wing.
Que, full on rant from Kitty and Micheal looking like a naughty toddler who'd peed his pants.

Meanwhile a yonder, Abbey Clancey looked impossibly perfect /skinny just four months after giving birth.

Me, James Cordon and Sonja



Abbey flashing off her post baby bod



Micheal McIntrye pre-bollocking off his wife and Jimmy Carr

  

The Saturday's Mollie and Frankie blissfully unaware of the storm in the teacup

Oh and it's my boyfriend birthday every year on the GQ awards, so I trundled off home at 1am with a swelling goodie bag stuffed with men's gifts...Dunhill aftershave, Clarins eye cream, moisterizer, shavers, books, DVDs, choclates, a bottle of Gin. Xbox game etc...
Naturally, I wrapped them all up and gave them to him as birthday presents the next day.
He was none the wiser.

The Glamour Women of the Year Awards

The Glamour bash is always rammed full of good celebrities.
This year didn't disappoint.
Davina McCall, Michael McIntyre, Dermot O'Leary, Louis Walsh, Dizzie Rascal, Kristen Stewart, Kim Kardashian, The Kings of Leon, JLS, Sugababes, The Saturdays etc...
Highlights of the night included...
* Host James Corden starting off a continual joke that he'd slept with Davina McCall's husband Matthew (so has Dermot, Dawn French and Micheal McIntyre apparently).
* JLS's Marvin having such a low cut top on you could practically see his nipples.
* Ryan Giggs being the brunt of most jokes on stage
* Jessie J - she's great. So normal and sexy and well...my new girl crush
* Kristen Stewart dying on stage - she's so necessarily awkward and stuttery. It's annoying.
* Dizzie Rascal saying he "thought my dress was banging". Nice.
* Davina McCall stoking and kissing my face while telling me how "amazing" her hubby is in bed
* Been given a Pandora Charm bracelet during dinner (they were the sponsors)
* Eating quails eggs for the first time, and enjoying them
* Seeing how excited Ellie Goulding was when American legend Stevie Nicks came on stage
* Knowing that Dragons Den's Peter Jones coordinated his sparkly purple tie with purple stripey socks.