here are few

Of my current favourite things.

Eating alone on Saturday night, at the quaint french restaurant, drinking wine alone, and not being half as self-conscious as would be prescribed on such a serene evening (nearly romantic).

Controlling the stereo via remote. I can sit at the sofa with macbook, drink my vodka/coke and listen to whatever I want, however loud I want, when I want it. None of this standing up business and scrolling. Why have I never practiced this before?

Having irreverent texts with Suzy. Something involving a gallery, a Heman, a car and a drink on Upper st. Come again?

And lastly, what is borderline stemming this methodic madness, is this curiousness I have in a mostly dire situation which will end up in nothing at all. But I'm a freak and need to know!

Am I hateable?

Suzy text reads: Cool

seeing underpants

wow. That was very Ezra Pound of me.

But just sitting around, packing for Paris and listening to Violet Femmes whilst boyfriend does the dishes and paces around the flat because "i'm not getting ready". I am however mentally planning outfits which, technically speaking, is far more productive than physically packing and subsequently unpacking because I'd feel those particular items/shoes would make the cut.

And I've now hopped on this unhealthy band wagon and have bought a silly amount of t shirts from Uniqlo and American Apparel. I've never been a t shirt girl really ever but I'm thoroughly addicted after having worn Chris' stripey number all day today.

And in Paris, I hope to buy some cinematic, nu wave clothes too. Or just some gingham. And some new flats too.

and i

Either my boyfriend is supremely relieved to have to gone to the toilet after a long tube ride home.....or I can hear our neighbours have sex. I'm going with the latter.

However speaking of (my boyfriend, not neighbours having sex...and I thought this building was so sound proof...) Chris and I are drinking stout and watching Withnail and I. At midnight. Wearing cool new t shirst and boosting sun burns.

And Chris just asked if I dropped knickers in the bathroom. Seriously as if.

But honestly, I would never.

Whose knickers?



Paris in 36 hours.

hols

Wah, I felt a bit whiny that night...

But I just woke up from a dream where George Clooney came to my door in the rain, freezing cold. I let him in, got him a towel then he must have had Florence Nightingale syndrome because George and I started kissing, then he fell in love with me. But of course me being me, I didn't believe his ways because he's such a playboy. Then I woke up. So really I'll never know George did truly love me. Also part of the dream, and part of the obstacles of being with George, I had to go on this game show and compete against Paris Hilton and NIcole Richie. The two were being really annoying and weren't letting me have my turn when all I really wanted was to answer the questions and run to George. George. He's just so charming.

Chris who...??

sunny daze

I'm on holiday. My dad and Ellaine are here in London now as well and it's so hot outside. Enter stage left Chris' parents for the crucial meet and greet. I think it went well and I told Chris he absolutely has to marry me now because I don't think I can go through the trauma and embarrassment of sets of parents meeting again.

Half a bottle of wine, we're on the hot streets by Columbia Flower Market, slowly digesting Argentinian steaks and wandering aimlessly which feels like the general gist right now. I am brutally aware, far beyond conscious, of something that is driving me to tear up on public transport.

On a much better note, we went to see Persepolis tonight and thought it was fantastic.

And on a supremely happy note, I have next week off and I'm heading to Paris on Thursday morning for a long weekend. And yesterday I rescued a friend and think I sent her off on her holiday on a much happier note, one with piece of mind. Tomorrow I'm going to lie on London Fields and read all day.