Anyway, in one of my many counselling sessions I mean conversations with my mama last week she suggested I treat the next two weeks like a holiday and bust out my inner tourist. Exhibitions, shopping trips, dinners. Not bad advice at all and so that's what I've been doing when I haven't been working like a maniac at the bar.
In this spirit of all things Yuletide tourism, last week LB suggested we do a tour of duty of the Christmas lights in central London. A wonderful idea that made no account for the weather. Which was near-zero and bucketing it down. We would have been drier if we'd stood under the shower faucet fully clothed. But nonetheless it was lovely to see all the lights around Covent Garden and the parts of Oxford Street that aren't touting Jim Carrey's last movie monstrosity are in fact quite beautiful:
They go all the way down Oxford Street. This was at the Marble Arch end of things, where we eventuated after an excursion to the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. I don't know if it's just that I was so tired last year that I wasn't paying attention, but it seemed 14 times the size on Sunday and rammed with people drinking mulled wine and hot chocolates and eating German sausages and queuing for the rollercoasters (and the toilets. Of course.) It had rained briefly earlier in the evening but by 6 when we got there it was just wet and we had a great time wandering about, eating chocolate coated strawberry kebabs and screaming bloody murder on the roller coaster. Was all tres fun.
This week I have a facial booked and LB has a surprise of some sort planned for Friday. I have a hair cut and a date on skates on Thursday at Somerset House. Please, please, PLEASE don't let me break a leg before I come home. Dinner with school friends on Tuesday and then whatever else takes my good god damn fancy next week. Clever mumma.
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