Friday night was an easy night in with the Tollstedts and Sara. We ate tacos and discussed the difference of coming from the country versus the city (they eat bananas in their tacos. BANANAS!) and Lisen’s taste in men.
I also played with Ziggy. That was a mistake. I wound him up and had him trying to own everything that came in his way. There is just something about me and kids/dogs/drunk people in clubs. I’ve got bad influence.
Talking to baby bro and he gave the old huff and ‘dont think so’ when i said im planning on staying in tonight. A year a go that would probably have been right, I never stayed in on a Friday. Ever.
Nowadays I’m happily looking forward to a night on the sofa to get in the mood for tomorrows party up East. Im dreaming of ice cream and a movie.
It brings to mind Olivers slightly Scroogie smug face yesterday when he patted me on the back saying ‘My plan is working, you are slowly getting boring like me’
Why does it feel like i have lost control over my own life?
Im tired today. We went dubstepping yesterday. Or grime:ing. Or whatever the music was. It was lots of young people (An upset Lisen came to me and said ‘Everyone is so YOUNG in here’. I was like ‘honey, you are 11 years younger than me’), lots of afros and some busting moves (not ours to be honest).
The drinks were cheap (and tasted like something you mix at home. The old ‘two component rule’* didn’t fly here) and the place looked like someone’s basement. I witnessed a girl fight between the toilet lady and two girls and I haven’t seen so many see through outfits and full on gangsta gear in like ever.
Vogue – an overall dance move that works like always
The live band. They had afro’s. Enough said.
Oliver being useful and realizing that the shit quality of Lisens photos is due to flair (it’s always the flair)
Dubbing? Grinding? Grimeing?
Lisen and the men in the funny coloured shirts. They were awesome. I wanted to take them with me home and keep them in the closet.
*A friend of Sanna’s and mine always used to say that it aint a proper drink unless it has more than two components
…I still haven’t had an Eton mess yet. It looks absolutely amazing and I think this weekend might be the weekend. Its basically a marängswiss with strawberries. Or, that’s not strictly true. Anyway, its strawberries, meringue and cream. I’ll have it with ice cream.
I wish i had a picture of my lemon mess yesterday but i ate it so quick i didn’t have time to photograph it. Or, Oliver ate it so quick I didn’t have time to photograph it.
We are going to a dub step night at notting hill arts club tonight. On Olivers initiative. Me, Oliver, Laura and Lisen. I’m looking forward to some serious white girl grinding. Very far away from Raffles hand waving action. It will be fun! I have a feeling this will be a very interesting night. Especially with bouncy Lisen jumping around flirting with the hard core dudes. I am so going to live this one through her.
Yesterday Olivers gran was in town so we went to the Mall Tavern (where we had Chicken Kiyv mum) for dinner. I had the best dessert ever – lemon meringue mess. Yummy! Anything called a mess must be amazing. And a somewhat weird chicken thing with baked beans.
Lovely night and lovely little gran.
This years first morning walk. It was HARD getting out of bed this morning. As in cute sleepy boyfriend trying to keep you in bed hard. But i did it. It was well worth it, sun was shining and I got company by Kix and the Zig.
The Zig had no idea what hit him. WTF, why are you dragging me out of bed at dawn and making me walk… i mean, man, come on. He kept up on his stubby legs though, I think we’ll make a walker out of the Zig.
Then we went Raffeling. I now own Oliver a cycling holiday. That was the deal. Damn! Hope he is thinking Tuscany and not mountain biking in the alps. He did say something about making me suffer.
Happy bang bang
Tompa got to court the ladies. Laura and Ella was well impressed.
Lisen, 19 and eager to suck out the marrow of London to its last drop.
– I want to find an old man, she said.
– Oh, like 40 you mean, that must seem old to you.
– Hell no, I’m talking at most 30
Vodka runs in the genes of the family
See, there is a smile on Olivers face (albeit a slightly green smile. I blame the goggle tan and not the music at raffles)
Bank holiday weekend. Last year it was 25 degrees and I was drunk for most of it, this year it was mostly cold and raining and Oliver and me did sensible things like taking walks, watching Deadwood, painting his flat and cooking. (We also did less sensible things like longboarding, dancing at raffles and being hangover, on my part, in bed).
Sun on the balcony! Even my pale legs getting some sun
The Zig in his new American Apparel hoodie
Oliver fixing his new mini board
Me in my new glasses. Oliver tried to make me wear protection. Fashion over function! I’m now sporting a big wound in my palm and a bruised ego for my stupidity.
This is what we are doing this summer (the small board is so tiny only one of Oliver’s feets fit.)