Nice set change mother nature

Lately, Erica, Dean and I have been having 'productive Saturdays' whereby we try and fill our time by taking advantage of the great city we live in rather than lay in a hungover shitheap at home all day. Galleries, Southbank, foodmarkets etc. All give us that warm glow of self satisfaction and cultural smugness.

Last Friday, milking the teat of the hospitality at Gem Bar for our free drinks, we decided that having absoutely NO money would not deter us from not having a productive saturday. Therefore the next morning, with the sun blazing the last of its summer rays, we headed off along with Mark to the british musuem.

Its strange - at the time in all honestly, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of tourists and the sheer volume of artifacts, it becomes all too easily to just start skimming over some of the displays. Now when I look back at my photos, it hits me again just how old and beautiful it is.

The two displays I was most interested in were of course, the mummies and the jewellery. Dead people and shiny things. The jewellery especially, apart from being gorgeous, was really poignant when you stopped to think that a girl like me could have worn that hundreds of years ago. Sometimes, a little perspective in the fleetingness of our lives is necessary.

And of course, the building itself is breathtaking.

Erica and Dean had prepared a packed lunch and I had spend the last of my dwindling pennies contributing sausage rolls and onion rings and off we popped to bloomsbury square to soak up the last sun.

And then just like that, Autumn arrived. The trees shook off their leaves and the rain came down to wash summer away from our streets. Sunday was therefore spent with the heaters on, watching old films on tv and the wonderful homey smells of dinners and clean laundry.

And with the change in weather of course came the first wave of viral illnesses which turned the office on Monday into a plague pit of coughing,sneezing and general whining, myself included. Fortunately for me I had both Tuesday and Wednesday off work where I spent it under the quilt catching up on films, napping, and planning a new photography project.

My flatmate Felicity is already on the christmas train, which is highly infuriating to me as I am somewhat of a nazi when it comes to holidays around this season. First I celebrate halloween, and then bonfire night, and then there is no christmas festivities for me until the first weekend in december. that is when the tree goes up. However Felicity is adament ours is going up next month, and I have told her in no uncertain terms that if I come home and see a tree up before December I will launch it out the front door.


A while back, Mama Liz found us a group on deal for Octoberfest which I had pretty much forgotten about. So, after a quick jaunt down Denmark Street with The Irish, I headed to Oval for some sausage, beer and a german band singing covers of...greenday?! It was pretty surreal and it was nice to have dinner served to me by a guy in tights and there were indeed busty wenches with giant mugs of beer. The plague illness forced us home early and I almost experienced a christmas eve type rush knowing that it was finally payday in a few short hours!

 

 

Last night was Ericas birthday drinks and alrhough in all honesty we started out omewhat on half engines, the flurry of cocktails down my throat and good company turned it into a great night!. We discarded Grace Bar as soon as happy hour was over and ran across the street to Picadilly Institute where I am now suffering horrible flashbacks of doing MC Hammer and Spice Girls on the dancefloor. I should not be allowed.

 

Tina, Mountain, Lisa and I carried on after the birthday girl went home at the red lion in soho before i staggered back to east london to the chants of young buys shouting 'Roman Road! Roman Road!'. I have woken up with very sore feet, and my hangbag is filled with feathers and a plate. Surely the trophies of a night well spent?

And so my weekend can now begin. But first, a little more of this.

Insane girl crushes

The week before the week before payday

This is my most dreaded of weeks. The actual week before payday, I have a goal in sight, a delicious end date to my financial suffering. Since I have moved back into London I have kind of been living on a deficit each month so I am stuck in a bit of a borrow/repay cycle. But thats called being in your 20s right? And every month I make solemn vows to myself that this will be the month I stay in the black. And so far, every month I have failed. And every month thus far I have lived a champagne lifestyle on a a tapwater budget and have ended up living on beans on toast for a week.

Last weekend I was able to afford the luxury of a trip to Manchester via train (one way. Shall discuss return later). Stephanie and I brought Michelle and James some southern sunshine with us to sweep away the northern grey doom. Although I speak to Michelle several times a day, nothing beats an actual face to face hang out with one of your bestest buds.

However the difficulty with our group dynamic is that we all like different things, therefore finding a social outing that suits us all can be somewhat problamatic. When we all lived in Southend, this was solved by either Steph or I trapsing off home if the venue did not suit our needs (Michelle is a social slut and will go anywhere). But now geography forces us to find a venue we all can all enjoy.

We ended up at The Deaf Institute which is a beautiful old venue on the outskirts of the city centre. They played sixties music which is my most loathed of genres after funky house and dubstep. Furthermore, it was Freshers Week, and I was left to feel like a haggard old whore in a corner nursing her drink and scowling at the innocence of these teens with their healthy livers and sense of optimism.

However, the company and good humour of my friends prevailed, even if it did end up with the mandatory drunken argument and a stumble home clutching a kebab.

Stephanie mocks Michelles drunken tears which is risky - even big bald dude in the kebab shop called Michelle 'A Bruiser.'

 

Cedric, aka satan in fur. I have never met such an adorable little bastard in my life. I love him so!

The next morning saw us take the National Express coach back to London - booked in what we thought was economic good sense. However five and a half hours on satans own mode of transportation complete with lack of air conditioning and passengers who felt that doing a number 2 on a coach where your excrement is heated from the engine and piped around your face is a great way to spend the time was just too much and we arrived back in London smelly, grouchy and tired. In future, all trips to see best friends are via Richard Branson.

On tuesday I was halfway home on the bus when The Irish text me to let me know he had last minute theatre tickets to see Cardenio at The Rose theatre on Southbank. Two of my favourite things are 'free' and 'theatre' so I jumped off the bus and redirected myself to London Bridge where he then redirected me the long ass way to meet him.

Here is a tip: Do not drink two large glasses of wine when you are going to sit through a two hour play with no interval and no toilets. I had to use almost Jedi like mind control on myself to prevent me collapsing into a weeping ball on the floor while slowly releasing my bladder. Luckily, the play itself was pretty captivating given the fact there was no razzle dazzle, just actors on a stage relying on their talent (with varying degrees of succsess) . There were times where I felt the direction would have been better, however under the circumstances (the venue is only half renovated) I was mightily impressed.

We dashed out via southbank where I was able to momentarily hold my bladder a little longer to take in the riverside view at night including my favourite building, St Pauls, before one more drink before home.

Causes bathroom errors.

 

 

Thursday we caught up with Mama Liz in a bar round the corner from work where free beer flowed and somehow more wine ended up at the table. When we finally paused for breath after spilling out a months worth of gossip at her, I was suddenly whats classed in medical terms as Too Pissed For A Thursday. Symptoms included getting up on a chair to demonstrate how much I cannot dance to Single Ladies, and actually how good I am at reinacting Kate Bush 'Wuthering Heights'.

This is me chastising/threatening Dean in case he had just filmed my dance scene.

Friday had a touch of magic glow surrounding it. Firstly, my bus to work was completely empty, meaning I had top deck to myself. Secondly, said bus was diverted via hackney which meant I got a more scenic route to work and did not get to work miles too early as usual. I had sucsessfully managed my workload for the week which meant I had no Friday deadline meltdowns, oh..and then there was FREE tea and cakes.  I mentioned how much I love free, right?

Royal Albert London Teas have this promo thing going on at the moment where they set up this darling twee little tea room in various parks around London and you can sit, drink tea from delicate china cups and scoff maceroons and cupcakes, which Erica and I did with aplomb, given out short lunch schedule. There was alot of 'squeee!' noises from us, and aloooot of instagramming.

I also ended up back out that night with The Irish, however was not very good company as my hormones are raging through my body and I basically hate everyone. Luckily for him he had the good sense to surprise me with chocolate with meant I did not rip his head off. Clever man.

So, a somewhat sucsessfully filled week on a paupers budget. I also managed to dye my hair again - im slowely getting better at not making it look like a rhubarb custurd! Its the little things in life. I am also now looking forward to the colder nights drawing in. Two words. CLOAK WEATHER!