Until I turn 30. And in a not-so-promising sign we have gone from this....
Fabulous. Thankfully the woollens are never far from hand and I've had little reason or inclination to leave the sofa today. An infuriating few hours were spent fixing up... again.... my stupid CV and doing some very exciting online grocery shopping with LB. Oh and then there's been some hair pulling about where to even hold my dumb-ass birthday given that it so happily coincides with the bloody World Cup. I did flirt momentarily with the idea of embracing the inevitable onslaught of beer cups and beery bravado (in honour of the Denmark v. Cameroon game I thought, ooh, danish and macaroons.... hmm. Maybe not.)
Aaaanyway. So it's a long weekend and LB and I have zilch planned - no flyaway holidays, no mini-adventures, there aren't even any films showing that we can both agree on seeing. I'm not so fussed but after the sunny goodness of last weekend it feels a bit anticlimactic nonetheless.
Last weekend was beautiful. Motivated by the near 30 (ooh - a positive omen perhaps?!) temperatures and also no doubt by the boring reality of having to return to work on Monday, LB suggested a stroll through Hyde Park. It was green and surprisingly busy, busy enough to actually feel busy. There were people E-very-where. And everyone was happy.
Not to begrudge Londoners their right to enjoy the sunshine - and I do realise most residents of this at-times charming city have never lived across the road from one of the best beaches In The World - but I just can't reconcile the arrival of sun with the sheer idiocy of lying in the middle of a park - MILES FROM THE OCEAN - in your SWIMMERS. Ya just look stupid kids. Seriously. And while you're at it, put some sunscreen on.
Wandering along the edge of the Serpentine, we did a very brief loop of the eponymous gallery (I spent more time queuing for the loo than looking at the art it was that uninspiring), LB then procured a football from his backpack and proceeded to kick it at me. I think, hoping I would kick it back. Now let's get something straight, my idea of hand-eye co-ordination is matching my nail polish to my sunglasses but I rather enjoyed my 10 minutes of faux sporting activity before ramping up the whining and heading to Wholefoods at Kensington for a late lunch.
Shockingly, Sunday also involved outdoor physical activity, only this one was my idea. I think inspired by our new locale and my recent Buddhism-lite life philosophy of If You Have To Be 30 and Unemployed At Least Be Unemployed and 30 and Skinny, we borrowed a couple of bikes from friends and took to the Thames path for a ride out to Richmond.
Thankfully it was flat the whole way so I didn't have to have a heart attack but my butt was killing me by the time we got to Richmond and found ourselves a shady spot and a jug of Pimms. I was beyond hobbling by the time we got home but it was so lovely to ride along the Thames, past Kew Gardens and through this exquisite greenery. Miles literally from the sofa and duvet I'm currently looking at.
The full-time job that is looking for a job continues, with some useful leads thrown up this week so fingers crossed something comes of them. Otherwise, I've been seeing some art, doing some writing and back-peddling as fast as I can from the reality of 30. It's certainly a milestone and one in theory I want to celebrate but I'm decidedly undecided about how I feel about it. Maybe I should place a bet.... Cameroon wins, 30 is fabulous. Denmark wins, 30 is not great. But then why would I place the responsibility for my personal happiness in the hands of a bunch of testosterone-fuelled boys in shorts running around on a big patch of grass. Now that would just be silly. I'd sooner ask my astrologer. Seriously.