Yesterday was a cocktail day. It had to be done. In fact, I could probably argue for it being a cocktail week. [Have just realised how close I'm skirting to poster child status for Alcoholics Anonymous - but whatever, it's been a long few days...]
Earlier this week I went babysitting. Old friend of my mum's hairdresser who now lives in London with her husband and four kids. I don't remember the last time I baby-sat, I certainly don't remember the last time I had to duel intellectually with a seven year old (Are you married? Why not? How old are you? I think mid-30s [are you fucking serious?!?!?...] How many degrees do you have? Our other babysitter has 10.) but it was a good night, and a dream run once they were all in bed. Lovely kids, lovely parents and a house full of Australian food stuffs. Oh Vegemite I've missed you.
It was a late night though, or perhaps I should say early morning, as I didn't get home until 2.30am. Thankfully they paid for a cab (living as they do on the absolute other side of London) and I had a lovely ride home through the deserted streets of London - and a free philosophy lecture from my cab driver about why it is important to be good in life.
Then yesterday I had my first slide exam. One hour, 12 slides and the most vomitous drivel imaginable masquerading as rigorous visual analysis. You can see why I needed a cocktail or four. Perhaps I'll re-imagine the evening as a homage to Martha Rosler's Semiotics of the Kitchen from 1975 - C for Cosmopolitan, T for Toast on the couch at home, M for Mild headache this morning...
I do need to get up and get on with the day - I have a date with the library this morning and a longstanding guilt-riven obligation to the temple that isn't quite my body to take it to the gym. Then I need to come home and get this bloody group project started. We have 10 days to put an entire issue of an art magazine together - from concept to editorial to ads to images. If we can pull it off it will be phenomenal and I'm looking forward to it but it's going to be one loooo-oo-ong week. A week punctuated by fun outings for birthday parties and hopefully some tobogganing in Hyde Park, but nonetheless a disproportionately long and stressful week.
In my Peter Pan happy place - this is where I would be this weekend:
Swimming from Bondi to Bronte. I am so longing to be home in the sun and sea that I feel physically a bit sick. And no, before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the cocktails.
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