Summer is here!! As has become typical in England, our glorious two days of summer sunshine has arrived in spring(we really need to sort out our seasons). The trees are teeming with cherry blossom, the birds are singing, and the beer gardens are rammed with a scantily clad nation frying in the sun. As the subtle pink tinge develops into a more obvious beetroot burn we remain adamant that we wont succumb to sun cream; we need proof that the sun was out when it starts raining tomorrow! Following stereotype I donned my denim shorts, vest and grabbed my fake ray bans, which despite doing nothing to protect my eyes, look great. My afternoon sunbathing was divine, but when popping into the kitchen to make some dinner, I foolishly switched on the news and heard two reporters moaning about how our brief summer was nearly over. They predicted that tomorrow will bring grey clouds and rain- just what we wanted to hear. It's a fact, sunshine makes us happy (sunburn isn't included in this statement). So soak up those rays, don't look at the week's weather forecast (it will only depress you), and get booking a holiday in the sun...in the words of Ned Stark; winter is coming.
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
Monday, 6 May 2013
Working against the clock
By twelve o'clock at night I was near drowning in a sea of metaphors and similes, exhausted by the emotion I had poured into the story, but driven by the deadline of the next day. Without any fairy godmother magic I substituted fairy dust for bottomless cups of coffee and a plethora of Easter chocolates which I had previously resisted (diet starts tomorrow?).
Saturday, 4 May 2013
It's Saturday morning and I'm not hungover...
It’s Saturday morning, I’m not hungover, I didn’t go out
last night, in fact I didn’t even have a drink. After experimenting with my dad’s
treasure chest of cocktail spirits I ended up making the most appalling
concoction of gin, strawberry liqueur, fresh lime and tonic (definitely not one
to recommend) and gave up. Instead I grabbed a vimto (what am I eight?) and put
on some Alison Moyet (what am I 50?).
I
spent last night playing Masterchef with my dad, I was the judge, so basically
I just sat down and watched him cook for me. I indulged in a sumptuous dish of
scallops, king prawns, button mushrooms, asparagus and almost a full pack of
Lurpack butter (dad doesn’t do ‘healthy’). The night came to a close with a
father daughter Amy Winehouse jamming session in which we both awkwardly
skimmed over the beginning lyrics to ‘back to black’, and then dad fell asleep
on the couch (standard father behaviour). Not the most eventful of nights; no
throwing up from excessive consumption of cosmopolitans, no outrageous dance
moves, no drunken phone calls (cue my next weekend in London). My night may
have been peaceful rather than pissed, but it certainly wasn’t a night ‘wasted’.
After a lovely evening I’ve woken up feeling lively, fresh, and unlike many of my
Facebook friends, without declaring that I will never, ever drink again (which
we all know just isn’t true). So if you
don’t have an epic weekend planned, don’t be disheartened. Relish the calm,
invest in quality family time, enjoy the lack of hangover... and get planning
next weekend!
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| Counting down to belated birthday celebrations with one of my faves! |
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