Sweet dreams are made of cheese

Im stupidly hangover today. I did not plan for that to happen. Normally Paris is just me going straight back to the hotel doing nothing. I dont exactly hang with my colleagues after work and the few friends i have here dont get to see my beautiful face very often.

Everything started the same way as normal yesterday. I went back to the hotel and crashed. Laid on my bed and saw the world pass by outside my window. Not particularly sad about that.

I was even so anti social i couldnt face going for dinner by myself yet another time. So i had dinner on my bed. Like a champ (and oh god did the room smell like cheese this morning. Sorry room).

But then i got a message on my somewhat tragic insta posts (and thanks to you Jules that actually asked if i was ok. On your birthday). Sven is in Paris as well. Lazy as i am i thought long and hard about pretending to not see his message until i realised i havent seen him in ages and of course we need to meet up for a drink.

So we did. Just up the road with his friend Mina and her boyfriend Thomas.

And yeah, Svens got a new tattoo. Thats something for you mum…

We were such awesome guests that the bartender gave us shots when we closed the place (learning from my man how to befriend people wherever i go). Not that we needed them but you dont look a gifted horse in the mouth.

So we went to the next place. Called Robin and Mark in London and talked shit. As you do. By this time we were both pretty smashed. Paris, sun and friends you havent seen in ages do that to you. And gin and tonics. They defo do that to you.

By 2 (ugh) we parted ways and i went back to a cheese fuelled room.

“Sweet dreams are made of cheese. Who am I to diss a brie. I cheddar the world & the feta cheese. Everybody’s looking for Stilton…”

Today not so impressed with the world. This is why i hide when im here. Tackling the french while hanging is not my idea of fun.

But i will be strong.

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