Greece is the word

We're off to Greece in a matter of hours for Cleo's Big Fat Greek Wedding To A German and I cannot wait. I'm packed, I'm superficially brown and I am hoping against hope that leaving the country will mean the end of my nightly work montage dreams. If I have to drown them in ouzo so be it. What I wouldn't do for a return to my wedding montage dreams. At least in those I got to wear nice outfits....

Last week was one of those weeks that only a margarita, ok ok, two margaritas, could fix. Everything was getting up my nose - work, public transport, People Generally - and by the end of the week I was just over it. Which is a shame as thinking back over it there were actually some genuinely lovely moments, however fleeting. On Tuesday we had yoga after work, which was surprisingly exhausting and not just from the laughter-induced pain of seeing a gaggle of colleagues collectively with their legs in the air and earlier that day we'd had a meeting with all the press and marketing teams from all of the partners involved in the project at the Royal Academy. In and of itself not so exciting but it was held in the same room where Charles Darwin's Origin of the Species papers were delivered in July 1858. Apparently not by Charles himself as his daughter was busy dying of some non-specific 19th malady but the occasion (the papers, not the death) is nonetheless still marked by a plaque. That was admittedly pretty special. Sometimes London does really woo you.

Thursday was margarita madness day. A shitty, irritating, unhelpful day for every and no reason, it was made enormously better both by some Very Exciting News from Tori and then dinner (and said margaritas) with Lovely Friend and Bec, in London for one last night. After the margaritas (and in the interests of full disclosure a bottle of wine...) the impending pain of Friday was dulled in more ways than one. Thank god.

The weekend however was just lovely. On Saturday I didn't get out of my pajamas until 2pm, willfully staying in bed and when not sleeping instead watching rubbish television on LB's computer. It was only the Lovely Boy's baking of Portuguese tarts that got me out of bed and even then it was only to move to the couch to minimise the crumbs. And then on Sunday LB's sister, brother-in-law and very adorable nephew arrived in London and so we caught up with them. It's always so good to see familiar faces from home. The best kind of tonic really.

West London showing some rare 'urban art'...

This week so far has really been about getting through until today though frankly after the whitewash of beige over most parts of last week this week could only ever be an improvement.

I'm so looking forward to Greece, and seeing Cleo and hopefully getting the chance to dunk myself in the ocean. All of which will be excellent distractions from a looming phone call from home that I am dreading with every fibre of my body.