A promise is a promise

Okay, so I said that I would try and do some more exciting things in an attempt to stop blogging about tubes and trivia. Well, I’ve come through with the goods. A little recap of the last week and a bit…

Friday
After a long week at work there is nothing better than a couple of drinks. And when drinking with work colleagues there is nothing better than knowing your limit and going home before you get stupid. And when going home there is nothing better than stopping in at the Atlas to have a nightcap with your roommates. Just don’t try and steal the glasses, okay? The night ended with Amber, Matt, Spark and I having Wii dance-off in the loungeroom. I’m pretty sure I didn’t win.

Saturday
As a rule of thumb, Saturday’s are for sleeping in, cleaning, washing, and shopping, and this Saturday was no exception. I also got my fringe trimmed - anyone who knows me understands what a process this is. Saturday night Amber, Matt, Spark and I got all dolled up and went to the Sugar Hut for a couple of drinks. The boys kept to those plans, but Amber and I stayed out to the early hours of the morning dancing (moi) and fighting off Irish men (Amber).

Sunday
I was surprised that we managed to get out of the house at all on Sunday. However, Amber and I made our way down to the Spanish restaurant for some late afternoon sangria. The sangria agreed with Amber, not so much with me. The rest of my afternoon was spent napping on the couch, while Amber and the boys returned to the Sugar Hut. I admire their commitment.

Monday
A nothing day, not worthy of more than this sentence.

Tuesday
Another sad loss for the Facthunt team. I’m not quite sure where we are going wrong, though dad is convinced Amber must be having a flat couple of weeks as he thinks she is the only one that answers any questions.

Wednesday
On Wednesday night I went out for some drinks with a boy. We did a pub crawl of Camden Town , Shoreditch, and Nottinghill, via Liverpool Street to check out these cool lights.

Thursday
A truly horrid day. Work was crap, I was crap, Thursday was crap. The only highlight was Katie Price and Peter Andre’s reality television show on Sky. They are my friends on Facebook, did you know that?

Friday
Remember the time that we went to the Bon Jovi concert?! Amby scored some free tickets from a girl at her work, so we organised a girls night out with Charlotte and Mel. I had the gurgly wurglies, but pushed on for the sake of this blog. We got a little lost on our way to Twickenham, so missed the first two-thirds of the gig. Amber kept reminding us – it’s the journey, not the destination! Mel and I stayed on to hear ‘Bad Medicine’, ‘Have a Nice Day’, and ‘Keep the Faith’ before we hightailed it out of there in an attempt to miss the crowds. A great night was capped off with the purchase of a cowboy hat, and the Best. Kebab. Ever. on the way home. Amber and Charlotte’s trip home was a lot more eventful, with missed trains, numerous night buses, near stabbings, and another visit to the Sugar Hut.

Saturday
We had a quiet morning at home before heading out for drinks at Embankment with the boys, and Dom and Jodie. Everyone was on the Queen Mary, a rickety old boat moored on the Thames that has been converted into a bar/restaurant. The sun was warm and the Magners were cool, though the rocking boat gave me a nasty case of vertigo. We were lucky enough to be surrounded by not only a hen’s party, but by a stag do. The groom-to-be cut a dashing figure in denim jeans with a Borat mankini underneath. Some of the guys that we were with were mocking his hairy chest, so Amber felt the need to stick up for this macho specimen. Then Dom’s boyfriend, Amit, layed an offer on the table that couldn’t be refused – if the groom took off the jeans then Amber would lick his chest. Amber, a woman of her word, carried through on the offer – absolutely hilarious! I’ve never been more proud of her. There was a little bit of mischief on the way home, as we were the only one’s on the train carriage, but I don’t think we need to go into detail as my nephews are reading this. The obligatory hamburger on the way home, before we all retired to bed at a rather respectable hour.

Sunday
I woke up early on Sunday morning to phone the fams in Townsville. Oh, and Jackie, I’m still waiting for those photos! Amber and I decided to venture out of South West London, so headed North East to Brick Lane . We had an awesome curry taster plate at The Spice Brick Lane, contender for Best. Curry. Ever! Fuelled up, we hit the Spitalfields indoor markets and had an hour of power shopping. So many bargains, so little time. I bought a scarf, some earrings, a kimono skirt, a beaded bolero jacket, a star shirt, an animal print jumper, a top for Jaala, and the most hideous dress you could ever imagine. Phew! We were in the general vicinity of Shoreditch, so decided to drop by our favourite non-local pub, the Barley Mow, and visit the gang. After a couple of extremely well priced Magners Amber and I made our way back to West Brompton . And as a bit of a pat on the back for getting out and about on a Sunday, we decided to have a jug of sangria on the way home. Such a lovely way to end the weekend really!

Monday
And that brings us to today. A day when I normally make grandioso promises about joining the gym and eating better and going to bed earlier. HA HA HA HA HA!

Longest. Blog. Ever.

Snaps!

Snaps to Facthunt, for our SIXTH consecutive trivia win!

Snaps to Tesco Direct, for delivering my new mattress! Sayonara crappy old mattress with the springs that nearly dislocated my shoulder, oh, you shall not be missed.

Snaps to the Barley Mow, our new favourite (non local) pub! It was well worth the three-tube hour-long trip to Shoreditch just to enjoy the generous hospitality of Eddie, Laura and Greg. Magners for £2, unlimited credits on the jukebox, free run of the place after 11pm, hilarious foreign accents, and ridiculous card tricks – you know I’ll be going back.

Snaps to me for getting a new job! A 10-week contract with a great company and the title of ‘Marketing & Events Executive’. Best part is that I don’t have to do another Birmingham conference with my current job. I am fabulous in London, Birmingham not so much.

Snaps to Marks & Spencer! I will never tire of their chicken laksa noodle salad. I’ve had it at least a dozen times since I’ve been here, and it just keeps getting better. M&S, you don’t put a foot wrong.

Snaps to The People’s Post Office! You may make me wait half an hour in the queue, but it only cost me £6.45 to send a large package to Australia.

Snaps to Mark and Matt for giving us a Wii console! The dance mat is super fun, even if Amber is mega competitive and won’t tell me how to use the hand controls so she can be the best at ‘Rhythm is a Dancer’.

Sunny Sunday in South West Londy

So, it was my 25B (I refuse to say I’m 26) birthday on the weekend. We went out in Soho on Saturday night and had a bit of fun. There was French champagne, my faithful partner in crime, old school friends, new gay husbands, jugs of cosmopolitans, dancing with bathroom attendants, aviator sunglasses, stacks on, long stemmed roses, posed photos, Jazzify street performances, cold samosas, a sea captains hat, and a fry up when we got home. And that’s all I am going to say about that.

I'm not a huge fan of birthdays, but this one was pretty good despite being so far away from my family. I loved all of my cards and flowers and presents, thank you all so much!

As for what we did on my actual birthday, I'm going to let Amber tell that story. So how about a warm round of applause for our guest blogger, Amby!

London days begin early in May - sun rises at around 5 am and doesn't set until nearly 10 pm. An unseasonable week of fantastic weather sets the scene for last Sunday which was a long day full of observations of life in the capital Britain.

AM
After returning home rather late the previous evening (nudged Cinderella out of the way as I made my way through the door), Amanda, Matt, Mark and I ventured down to 'The Slug' to watch a much anticipated Brisbane Broncos vs. Manly Sea Eagles match. As we were all feeling the effects of the previous night (Mandy's 25Bth birthday) we kicked off the morning with some grease (big burger with lots of lard) and a pinch of the hair of the dog (in my case a pint of Magner's Irish cider). The weather was absolutely glorious (27 degrees and sunny), so not surprisingly, all of the pasty locals and their mangy dogs had also ventured out - the fact that there was a Chelsea vs. Bolton football (soccer) semi also added to the colourful delights that filled the streets of Fulham. As the Brisbane Broncos descended into a fiery ball of failure, the 'Slug' slowly filled itself with rowdy soccer yobs either dressed in non-flattering costumes, too tight jerseys or, worst of all, the teams' 'away' jersey (featuring bare chest, beer belly and hairy sponsorship). As the game wound down I had the good fortune to comment to a middle-aged Bobby about my preference for rugby league over the wussy round ball sport. He agreed and we launched into a great conversation about Wigan and the glory days of Ellery Hanley - he asked me if I was going to be back at the pub 'tonight' - he was concerned about my safety I think. So I assured him I would be staying out of the way of any riots, chanting or police violence - he looked disappointed.

EARLY PM
Mandy and I left the Slug (the crowd had become suffocating and Matt and Mark had already deserted us in favour of Sunday lounging at home). As we made our way down the street we were greeted by more and more 'away jerseys'. Disgusted by the lack of dignity of these football fans, Mandy reported her concerns to some young cops keeping an eye on proceedings. "Is that legal in this country?" Mandy asked pointing at a particularly large white specimen whose chafing could not only be seen but heard. One of the cops looked at his fellow countryman with a wry grin before replying "Yes ... but it shouldn't be!". The freak show didn't stop there. Between Farm Lane and Brompton Park Crescent is a small green space - good for exercising dogs or having a snooze or a read on nice days (it's just a shortcut to me). As we entered the green space a man (in a Chelsea jersey of course) walked past us with his young son and wife and other child trailing. As he passed he suddenly jerked his head to the side, placed one finger over his nostril and blew as hard as he could. Yes folks - he pulled out the bushman's hankie!!! On the ground. In front of his family. In front of us. My stomach lurched and I looked at his wife wondering how she ever mustered the courage to produce those two children with that man.

PM
Probably should have stayed in after the morning of atrocities but it's rare that the weather is that good so M&A&M&A headed out the park adjoining our estate. We spread out some sheets as a makeshift picnic blanket and celebrated Mandy's birthday with some Marks and Spencer salad, Mumm champagne and some games of Uno. Luckily I had finished eating when three fat and rather white flamed-haired teenage girls entered the arena accompanied by a skinny little turd of a boy kicking a soccer ball. Two of the 'rangas' were holding hands and I thought it lucky that biology will prevent them from producing a child with both of their genes. The foursome began to kick a soccer ball around the park (even though it was clearly signed that ball games are not allowed!) and every time one of the ten-tonne trio 'scored' she would put the shirt over her head and run about like seismic occurrence. Needless to say this was just gross and like a car crash we all just couldn't stop looking. Eventually the sideshow had to end and the feral foursome walked towards the exit of the park. Two rangas holding hands again, third ranga third wheeling but then things got just that bit worse. The turdy kid walks over the ranga lesbians and proceeds to put his hands down the back of one of their pants. I think this was in a wedgie attempt but instead he just pulled this unfortunate girl's shorts down far enough for most of the park's inhabitants to dry-retch.

LATER PM
Meanwhile, a 'gentleman' entered the park wearing jeans, a button up shirt and carrying his lunch and a newspaper. He sat down approx ten metres from our party and proceeded to eat his lunch. Lunch eaten - check. He then took his shirt off. Shirt off - check. He then proceeded to read his newspaper. Newspaper read - check. He then lay down for a nap. Nap - check. He then not very subtly took off his jeans to expose a pair of non-elasticised Primark jockey shorts and flashed all of equipment in our direction. Who does that????????????? Lucky for us Mandy took a photo.

Time to leave the park and indeed the day behind. After an obligatory evening of delivered oriental food and Sex and City, the sun set on the longest Sunday in South-West Londy.....