my bald face

What a week!

Despite finger bone cold weather, I have had a gloriously satisfying week or so of personal accomplishment. well...that may be slightly overstepping it.

Ive been slightly spoilt by going out for a few meals out with erica and liz. Tastecard - what would i do without you? Thai/pan asian isnt my favourite of cuisines but i do enjoy one dish at The Banana Tree in soho, and I did try something new as well - which i almost never ever do. As I am yet stonkingly rich, eating out is still a massive treat for me so I am always hesitant in ordering something new, not enjoying it and this ruining
treat.
Speaking of treats - I have given up crisps for lent. Its been almost two weeks since a  luscious beef space raider touched my lips. It was getting to the point that I would rather eat crisps when I got home than cooked myself a dinner, and nutritionally this is not good for my body. The downside? My sweet tooth has kicked in and I went crazy for a few days craving chocolate. In fact on valentines day, I wolfed a bar of Godiva chocolate at my desk at work. And that shit is expensive!

Work has been slightly more stressful of late - sometimes it just feels a bit much. Everything gets heightened - things that wouldn't normally bother me end up irritating the living shit out of me. I am so bored sometimes that mindless gossip is the only thing that keeps me interested. And then I get pissed that I have fallen into the trappings of office politics.
A good thing that came out of work however, is that I joined a project to help find new bands and artists so at least now I have a reason to get out to see live bands more.

I am currently writing a piece for Black Milk about body image and diets and self worth - and its been difficult. I have found myself doubting my own belief system - the more words I write the more I question myself. And its difficult because its something that I am incredibly passionate about. Because I am five nine, a size 18 and I do not wear clothes from the high street, I can stick out like a sore thumb. But I dont care - id rather wear what I like than be yet another cookie cutter.
I digress - if ever there was a self confidence boost, it was being picked to be a model for Illamasqua at their make up artist lock in! And it was London Fashion Week so there were some important faces in there. I almost didnt go - I sat in the bar after work with my friends actually petrified - and then I kicked my own ass and went. And I was so glad I did. As I sat in the chair the illamasqua make up artists claire and daniel enquired what was under my pencilled in eyebrows. ' Nothing' I replied. ' AMAZING! FANTASTIC! PERFECT!' they cried. And I flushed with happiness - ive always been pretty facially bald to constant teasing and banter from my friends. But hearing positive things come from professionals in the beauty industry ( Claire works on downton abbey!) made me feel almost proud of my missing eyebrows.

And as Claire removed all my make up, I become acutely aware that I would be sat in front of 40 people who work in beauty - with absolutely nothing on my face. I wanted to puke in fear. I focused by staring dead ahead at the wall while they worked their magic. Heres me with a half face of 1920s make up.

I had people paying me lots of compliments and taking my photo. And it made me think of how at 17, terribly insecure and feeling inadequate that I wasnt thin - that it was me who has had the most modelling experience, and im the fattest!

Heres a photo of me taking by Abbey Drucker  - an amazing photographer who has shot for vogue

This was taken at five am at The Hyatt Hotel in Los Angeles. Boy, I was wrecked. Messy Interpol aftershow.
So I guess what I am trying to say - thin does not mean beautiful. Thin does not mean better. you will not achieve more by being thin.

And what better way to celebrate that sentiment than with pancakes with liz

and then steak and beer while watching footie with irish

Friday was our quarterly company meeting at Ronnie Scotts Jazz Club where we all pile in to a dark hot room and try not to pass out from heat exhaustion. In fact at one point it was so bad I spend m ytime trying to fashion a fan out of my napkin rather than listen to what the director was saying ( im sure its along the olines of  cd sales down, digital up). We all piled into Tiger Tiger afterwards where shots were had, dubious dance moved were performed and there was far far too much inappropriate girl talk, especially considering three people were my superiors. How can I take people seriously once they have confessed to me what their pubic hair looks like?

It was getting pretty rowdy and I had already clocked up a nice mixture of beer, white wine, pink wine, vodka, sambuca and a mystery shot. I staggered over to irishes who thought it would be a sobering prompt to chuck water bombs from his window as an incentive to get me to open the front door unassisted ( goddamn electronic entry systems ) I was trying to cover how drunk I was but I dont think I did a very good job because i passed out on the sofa. I did wake up back up, we sang a bit of celine dion and went and caught closing time at the pub.

couldnt even keep my eyes open in a selfie

I dont overly remember getting the bus home. Thats not good.

The next four days are going to be bleak as shit. Its the last four days before pay day. WOE!

At least today I get my pink hair back

responsibility, smoncibility

Greetings internet.

On Wednesday Michelle came down from Manchester for a job interview in town. I met her at the Half Moon where a bottle of wine was quickly guzzled after the stresses of the number 25 bus home. The 25 is one of Londons busiest routes, going from Oxford Circus, through the city and out East via Whitechapel to Ilford. Its pretty strange as we crawl past buildings stuffed with finance and wealth - yet the bus is  full of people with no money, odour issues and the lack of ability to hold a conversation at a reasonable volume. Sometimes its an actual battle to even get off and I find myself starting to have a mild panic attack at the thought of having to barge my way past because no one understands the concept of ' excuse me please'.

I digress. We cooked what Dean has dubbed Toad On The Hill - my own cheats version of toad in the hole. Im not a fan of the spongey consistency at the bottom of the regular dish because it soaks up the sausage fat. Plus, what a ballache. I cook some sausages and onion and mash and essentially stuff it into a giant Yorkshire pudding. I apologise. None of my food ever looks terrible appetising but i can assure you it is deeeelicious.

After chats and smokes we passed out on my bed eating valentines cupcakes and watching American Psycho. Oh Christian Bale, how I adore thee.

Thursday night we swigged labrini in my room because we are poor and caught the bus down to Lounge Lovers in Shoreditch. The rain ruined our hair and the door host refused to let us in til we could prove we knew people inside. We met Steph who was on work drinks - Steph works for an insurance brokers in the city. Boy was I glad I got changed when  I got home - everyone was super slick but also really nice and accommodating to the fact me and michelle had gate crashed their night and brought us lots of expensive drinks.

We caught a cab to McQueens - another glossy shiny expensive bar that I dont normally frequent but kind of wish I had the money to. They sell wine worth thousands of pounds. I seek out places exclusively for happy hours. I drank gin, because it was free.And I hate gin normally.

We then caught another cab to Cargo ( two cabs in one night - cabs are such a luxury in London for me!) where it was some kind of urban night. I dont mind this kind of music i just CANNOT dance to it even when im really drunk. I can do it for about 30 seconds and think im really cool and funny and then start to feel like a comedy skit . The crowd was awesome and friendly and we met Mischa B from X Factor - from the series i actually bothered watching!

As it hovered past midnight i became accurately aware of the fact the next day I had a lunch with one of our Solicitor firms and probably shouldnt roll in with three hours sleep and a hangover. It was crap to leave because the company was excellent so I sloped off and caught a bus back home. It was so good to actually do something different for a change - and I am a fan of bar hopping which is something  especially on our own work drinks, that we never seem to manage.

I woke up late on friday anyway, still with a hangover and still came to work smelling like gin and dry shampoo. So, wasted exercise in trying to be responsible. Lesson learned: just stay out.

Erica booked us an area at Tiger Tiger for a change of venue on friday. Again, its not the kind of venue i would choose to go to normally, but as so many of us like different things we basically just require space and a cheap bar. I hadnt planned on staying out for more than an hour, but I am also weak and have no willpower and soon my boss was egging me to topedo smirnoff ices. Plus, it turned into one of those nights where everyone was the pefect amount of drunk - although I decline any claim that i danced to fifty cent swinging onto the bar at the bottom of the stairs.

Saturday morning Felicity and I dragged our respective hungover asses to the half moon for breakfast and coffee and coke before i came back home and went to bed where i stayed for./...the whole day.

As I have sunday. Its been so good.

tantrums and hot dogs

January came and went in a flurry of crap weather and empty bank accounts. Obligatory snow photo

Last Thursday Niko and I swigged bottles of cheap plonk before mooching on over to KoKo in Camden to see an old face, Mr Paul Banks. Time and geography has moved us all on but it was nice to nostalge and remember the ' good ol bad days'. One of my favourite times with Paul is when he Niko and I were mooching about in London at silly o clock and didnt really know what to do. Inbetween Paul pleading with the doorman of The Crobar to let us in for just ONE beer to at one point calling the record label ' WE ARE SO BORED WHERE CAN WE GO' we jumped into a black cab and decided to head to out old haunt, and where it all began, The Columbia Hotel - notorious in its own right ( oh the stories one day i will share). We warned Paul that they were a bit stricter nowdays - previously they hadnt batted an eyelid to letting you swings from the chandeliers ( yeah you Kings Of Leon) to going behind the bar and serving yourself if the barman was too busy snorting blow. He told us to wait in the cab while he 'sorted' it. Under a minute later he jumped into the cab, breathless and ordered the driver to hit the gas. He then told us that he had nonchalantly tried to walk into the bar before being chased out by the strict night manager - paul shouting expletives as he runs. His face was so angry yet also terrified  we ended up at a terrible warehouse party bustin robot moves, starting fights before crashing at the hotel and doing the obligatory secret escape to avoid Daniel in the lobby.
It was nice to realise how much we had all grown up - the bottle of water on stage signalled that. Paul is hilarious, intelligent and very wise despite us all being caught up in a cloud of class A back in the day. He partied hard, that boy.


old and new banks.

You can read my review of the gig here

Gone also are the days where we would want to stay at the afterparty til 6am and by midnight niko and i were munching on burgers in stepney green before falling asleep to netflix.

The next day we headed over to The Diner for a hangover feast

I got some good news this week so I of course celebrated by getting rather hidiously drunk and passing out on my bed after eating a pack of kitkats onto an unmade bed.


On Thursday I was rather aghast to learn my bank card had been cloned and someone had been spending up my cash in NYC. Of all the places! I was furious and then facepalming at the fact I had zero ID to go to the bank and withdraw any cash. The Irish offered to meet me and top up my oyster card so i could get to and from work at least. As he finishes later than me and having worked late all week I decided to walk from my office in Soho to his in Borough. What an error, despite a beautiful walk it was also four miles in heeled boots. Man I was pissed. But  he got me drunk and borrowed me some coin.What a lad.

Friday was the first friday in 2013 that weve had any money so of course everyone at work was going to go overboard. I remembered towards the end of the night that I dont get drunk on ameretto so instead decide to take a back seat and observe peoples behaviours. It was.....interesting.

Im 30 this year. Why do I surround myself with people displaying asshole behaviour? Well, mainly I guess is I cant be bothered with the drama of correcting them. As a typical taurus, i only lose my temper like..once a year ( not to be confused with my high strung tantrums) but when i blow my top, its big. Id rather just ignore the behaviour and strike  them onto my ' tossers' list in my head. But maybe that needs to change.

Yesterday I went back to the diner with Niko and Steve before a bar crawl through some old haunts like the crobar and discovering how awesome 12 Bar is on denmark street is . I am making 12 bar my new favourite bar ( other than half moon spoons of course. I am a loyal drunk.)

Oh! and felicitys nan made some amazing turbans. they are seven pounds each and all the money goes to her. Sybil was a beauty queen in her day and absolutely lovely and gracious when I spoke to her ont he phone to thank her for my hat.  Its nice to have clothing with real sentimental value. Heres me modelling a few in our bathroom - head over to http://www.facebook.com/nansknitwear

Also here is a picture of me and my dog, who is better than your dog. Im sorry, its just a fact,