the anniversary

Today is my one year anniversary in London. I had no idea if I would last a month and now I have no idea when I will ever leave. I like it here. Finally!

However, I really want to go home for Christmas. If I cannot I will spend the holiday in France and that will be lovely, but it would be nice to be home. I just need to come up with £700.

This makes me laugh:

Poor Macca. Divorcing a one-legged prostitute
who accuses him of wife-beating and he's still
the boring one out of Lennon and McCartney.

one cafe in two parts

c'est fou

So Paris was gorgeous. What a surprise, right?

H. and I hit a major glitch, but we are back on track. It was all my fault and I can fill you all in at a later date.


And my Mom would KILL me if she knew I had posted this photo...

try not to laugh

I know why this shouldn't be funny. But it is.

I am going to hell.

first thing

I had to work at 7 this morning. I have not been up this early in a long time, in the shower I felt like I was about to go skiing. Remember when we used to sleep in our clothes in anticipation of an early morning?

I was up until 1:30, tipsy, texting anyone who would respond and watching Gilmore Girls. I spent the evening at a Symposium on Luxury. The symposium itself was fine (but then what would I compare it to?), but the circumstances, the setting were astounding. The event was hosted in a members only club in Central London. An 18th Century house fit for royalty and transformed into a modern day playground for the rich (and their personal assistants). I can safely say it is unlike anywhere else I have ever been...

I got drunk with our bank manager and his PA. The crowd was such a mix, but most people had that unmistakable look of wealth. Or (like me) they were there to assist their member bosses.

So different than the Christian Wives Fellowship. Instead of tea and biscuits, there was wine and roast salmon skewers/pate.

Anyways, it is early to be at work and my body is aching for another cup of tea. It's funny getting up so early, the city is entirely different to me at 7 am. Like I never knew the cafe opened so early, but there was Magda, wiping down tables and preparing for the day. And no queue for the shower!!

plus one, minus eleventy billion

The cute flatmate was listening to Jeff Buckley. I went and stood in the hall and thought about how foxy you have to be to listen to Jeff Buckley whilst alone.

Now he is listening to Lenny Kravitz. I feel so betrayed.

a reply (crosswalk gets it)

Number of times I have been drunk in the last week: 5
Percentage of those times that alcohol was consumed at school: 80
Average number of hours I spend at work per day: 11
Ratio of working hours to daydreaming hours: 3:1
Number of books I've read in last 7 days: 4
Number of bottles of Johnny Walker Black Label I have polished off: 3
Number of times a week I consider running away: 14
Likelihood that I will see my best friend before I graduate: 25%
Number of people in Montreal that I phone in a given day: 1
Chances that that person is my boss: 100%
Number of people in Montreal that I text in a given day: 1
Number of people in London that I text in a given day: 2
Number of times I've promised my mother in the past 6 weeks that I'd go home the next weekend: 2
Number of days that tuition is overdue: 10
Amount I would have to drink to make out with someone in Montreal who wasn't my boss: two assloads
Number of people with whom that is even remotely appealing: 2
Chances that those people are in the same class with me: 100%
Percentage of those people who are attracted to girls: 50%
Chances that if given the choice and the right amount of hooch I'd hit on the gay one: 100%
Likelihood of me getting done this week all that needs to get done: 10%
Amount of time I will spend emailing: twice as much as usual