Went to Cardiff a couple of days ago!

Had to go there for some research, but was surprised that I managed to actually get there! A while back a clairvoyant insisted on my grandmother telling her that I had to go to Wales. She told me a lot of other things as well, like that I’d bought three pairs of shoes that week, and everything was spot on! So I thought that at some point, I’d better go to Wales then. Better check out what it was that the spirits wanted to show me. I expected some amazing life changing sign of monstrous proportions.

But every time I had tried to get there, something had got in the way. It just hadn’t been working out! Not because of insignificant little things as me changing my mind because something else had come up, no, but because of seriously full on interference!
Once I had bought a ticket to get there over the day but then I couldn’t get to the station since the tube suddenly stopped for over half an hour and we were told that we had to take “alternative routes” in order to get to our destinations. Well, since the alternative routes were all very time consuming, I missed my departure! What can you do?

The next time me and a friend were supposed to go hand gliding in Wales with two others I’d met. In the last minute the van we were going to get there in was being held up by the driver’s friend, so we had to postpone the trip! Annoying, yes! But again, what can you do?

The third time I got really close and ended up in Bath with a promise of a connection, just in order to find out I wouldn’t be able to get back in time for my return trip. Then I started to seriously wonder what was going on…
It seemed to me that I wasn’t supposed to get to Wales until the time was ripe, that I was only allowed to get there in order to catch the right moment. Again there’s not all that much you can do in situations like that. You can’t argue with higher powers.

This time I wasn’t thinking much about the clairvoyant though. I was busy being concerned about where all the sheep had gone to! Wales is famous for their sheep. It’s their “thing”! So when crossing the border I was clinging to the window expecting to see hoards of sheep floating like white marshmallow rivers over the green meadows and fields. I had some pretty vivid pictures in my mind right there and then and was beginning to feel quite excited!

But not a single sheep was to be seen. Surely every heard has got at least one lost lamb? No, not even in the capital! I felt confused. I looked around myself in something that can probably only be described as panic, to see if the other passengers were experiencing the same trauma, but I couldn’t detect anything. Not right there and then, at least. I guess they hid their anxiety well. It was as if my paradigm of the world as I’d known it had suddenly been shattered to pieces! I asked the staff in the tourist information, the police, random people I got in contact with…no one knew what had happened to them. I mean it’s a bit like if you went to let’s say Dublin only to find out that the Guinness was finished! You’d ask for a refund, surely! I felt a bit annoyed.

I wanted sheep! Once when me and Marta were camping in the Isle of Skye in Scotland, we were, after a fair amount of booze, trying to get a sheep to come “home” and spend the night with us in the tent. It made sense! It was cold and people make clothes of the wool that comes from sheep (and also they looked so fluffy…) so the logical thing to do would surely be to invite one to function as a pillow? Did I mention that we weren’t sober?

Well even without the sheep it became an eventful day to say the least. The Welsh seems to be a very friendly bunch! Everyone seems to quite easily find a reason to chat with you. One particularly happy woman felt the need to come and talk to me in a café in order to tell me she was a Piscean. So am I! Immediately I remembered the clairvoyant and the signs I should be looking out for in Wales. Surely this must be it? A Piscean? That’s IT! I decided to absorb everything she had to tell me so I prepared myself for some eager listening.
We talked for quite a while but most of the conversation ended up being about her winning loads of money on a horse. She told me I simply had to go for it and do the same – put some money on a horse!

Ok, higher powers…listen, I appreciate that you’re trying to make me rich. I really do. I’m not complaining about that at all. But gambling?! Couldn’t you at least have used some reasonable means for me to accomplish it with? I’m rubbish at gambling! I haven’t bet on a horse since I was about 15 when I came with my friend to the stables where she used to hang out (because she had a crush on some jockey). I mean, if I were to bet on a horse, it would probably be on one that had a name similar to mine or one that had given me a particularly friendly look. In other words, this is really, really not my field…

I don’t even believe in gambling or betting or anything of the sorts. It seems stupid to me. Ok, fair enough, if you really know the horses then, well, I guess you’ve got a chance to win, but otherwise what’s the point! Joanna and Marta have been playing the Lottery for years and have eagerly tried to convince me to do it with them. Yawn. Yes, I tried. Guess what? I lost! I mean, I’m not saying it’s stupid to play the lottery, (what harm is there?), but the statistics are quite clear. I just don’t understand how people can feel any level of motivation or stimulation to do it. Or even worse – excitement! I guess it’s just never been my thing.

But then now, I guess I have to bet on a horse. No idea which one. I guess I’ll just look for a sign… Or the one closest to my name ;)
When I got home I thought that maybe it doesn’t have to be specifically on horses so I bought a scratch card. It had polar bears on it. I didn’t win.

Anyway, there was one thing there in Cardiff that did impress me. The Wales Millenium Centre. It’s got a huge stone with a beautiful piece of poetry reading half in Welsh and half in English saying;

“ Creu gwir fel gwydr, o ffwrnais awn” -

“Creating truth like glass, from the furnace of inspiration – in these stones horizons sing”.

I loved it! It’s beautiful! And ingeniously, if you’re bilingual and you understand both Welsh and English (which I don’t), you can overlap the two messages and get a third “poem”…

Brilliant!

I know what I want for Christmas! I know what I want for Christmas! Probably the same as everybody else - an ant colony! First when I saw it in a magazine I decided to get it for someone else, but soon I realized this was something I simply had to get myself as well! And I wasn’t prepared to leave it to chance, hinting to people that this might be my ultimate present. You just can’t trust people when it comes to important issues like that.


It looks so amazing! You can even get a separate illuminator. Although I assume that you’d have to turn it off at night so that the ants get their 8 hours sleep. I remember clearly from when I was having rabbits that you have to respect your pets sleeping routines. Otherwise there might be sulking involved.

As you can see it looks like a very flat aquarium containing some fluorescent jelly with a lot of dug up paths in it. Apparently the jelly has got all the nutrients the ants need. It even hydrates them so they are completely sorted in there, all by themselves! No need for feeding or even walking them unless you feel that you really want to. It’s THE pet alternative for let’s say lazy and irresponsible people or people who travel much! Some people might go as far as calling it a revolution.

I was indescribably excited and had already started thinking up names when I suddenly saw something written just underneath the advert:

”Ants not included!”

-“What?!”

I tried to let it sink in, to reflect upon it, but my response was still nevertheless:

-“What?!”

At first you may be forgiven for thinking it would be quite easy to solve the problem by yourself. You can just pop out in the garden or the park to pick a few. Surely they won’t mind.

Look, as far as I know, ants are pretty much like bees! (Apart from the wings and the honey and all that.) They’ve got societies made up of a bunch of male workers while a queen is sorting out the kids! How the hell am I going to find a queen in the park? How would I be able to differentiate between them? How would I know it’s a female? They’re not exactly wearing skirts!

I don’t know if I’ve missed anything here, but according to my calculations (ok, guesses) it could take years, or at least several weeks of full time work to find the right ants! And then, they sort of have to like each other, surely? Ant societies are based on team work. Well, they are not going to build any bloody teams if they’re spending their time arguing, are they?

Although…maybe you can buy some sort of separate ant package on the internet?! You can get everything else there, so why not this? Seems reasonable! There must be millions of ant collectors in the world. Right this minute, fighting the same battle…

…watch this space!


PS. Bought a disposable electric toothbrush a couple of days ago. Got a battery inside it and when its worn out you just throw it away. Easy. But then I read on the package:
”Lasts for 3-4 months.”

I’m sure I’m giving the impression that my conversations with myself aren’t all that creative, because my reply was exactly the same as the one concerning the ants:

-“What?!”

3-4 months? That can’t be right! I’m normally not using the same tooth brush for longer than 1 month! Why on earth would I want to do that? They are much nicer when they’re new and it must be more hygienic as well! 3-4 months!?! Just seems wrong somehow… A bit like not changing your clothes for 3-4 days!

But maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that I’ve grown up in a very umm..tooth brush friendly home! My dad has always seemed to be quite fascinated with what are the latest brushes on the market and has therefore always, during my whole life, made sure (and still does) that there are at least about 30 different tooth brushes available at all times to choose between at home.

I’ve always liked people with different…“hobbies”! :)


PS. Actually, he’s quite into toothpaste as well…

PS.2. But clearly it’s a pretty effective tactic for a dad to use because I’ve only had one single hole in my entire life. And my brother none!

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Yeah, yeah I know, we don’t really do Thanksgiving in neither Britain nor Sweden, but so what? It’s as good a reason to celebrate as any other and it also doesn’t hurt to take some time to think about all the things we should be grateful for. I’m spending my day thanking people around me and have also had a little prayer to tell God that, you know…I’m thankful!


It’s great because it makes you think about how many things there really are to be grateful for that you normally just take for granted, or sometimes even complain about. I don’t want to sound tedious here, but there are a lot of people who don’t even have food on their table. It’s quite painful to think about actually. That thought makes me feel quite guilty to be honest.

Today, if you see someone homeless or a Big Issue seller – give them some money!
Or even better – send some money to charity! It doesn’t have to be much, even just a little sum makes a difference. Do both!

I sometimes send money to a charity that takes care of unwanted or hurt pets and other animals. The staff works completely for free and I’m just so happy that places like that exist. Yes, I know, it might not “seem” as important as a charity that works with cancer or HIV, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important to support them. Someone has to think of the little ones as well.

Was going to meet some people in Putney tonight, but have been talked into going for dinner in Tooting instead. (Well, dinner feels more appropriate on Thanksgiving than just meeting up for a drink…) Nicola is organising for a group of people to get together once a week for either dinner or drinks in the Tooting and Clapham area where she lives. And two weeks ago when I almost went, but couldn’t face the long journey, I promised to come the next time instead.

I’ll explain what I mean by “long journey”. I think people who don’t live in London (and especially people living in places like Sweden) have a hard time understanding what that actually involves. I live in the west in zone 1-2 (depending on which tube I go to). Tooting is in the south in zone 4. The quickest way I can get there takes about 75 minutes. That means going there and then later, coming back, add up to a travel time of 2,5 hours! It’s a lot! The new Eurostar trains go to Paris in that time!

It takes equally long for me to pop over to my friend in south London and back, as it takes for me to get to Paris!

When you think about it, you realize how crazy it sounds! (Nicola, I’m not complaining about coming to your dinner babe – looking forward to it – I’m just contemplating the distances in London in general. It’s the same when it comes to visiting people in the east and to some degree north…don’t get me wrong x)

But what can you do? It’s a big city! Very big city even…

Well I guess, there are people who have got it worse. The largest city in the world is actually located in Sweden! (I know, you’re probably choking on your tea right this second, shouting obscene words in protest…that’s what normally happens when I try to point this out.)

But nevertheless, it’s true! Kiruna in the north of Sweden IS the largest city in the world. Not population wise (hehe..you must be kidding) but space wise! It really is! So I guess the people living there must have a worse time getting around than we do!

But then again, they’ve got really cool scooters and no annoying tourists in their way to slow them down, so they can just hover their way over the snow at light speed and then whoosh…they’re there! Something like that.

Was watching a commercial from Boots just the other day saying “COLDS are effecting us in different ways!” Then they went on to showing a guy coughing his throat to bits, a woman snivelling her nose off…and then a girl in the supermarket, being so exhausted she’s falling into her own trolley! And when I saw that, I shouted "That’s ME! That’s really ME!"


I’ve been so exhausted since last week it’s been ridiculous! I’ve hardly had enough energy to get out of bed! EVERYTHING has felt like an incredible effort! Every morning I’ve woken up with a headache (and I normally never get headaches!). And I’ve continuously been freezing to a point where I’ve used 2 duvets and then, still shaking, even turned the oven on, putting it wide open in order to spread some heat! I’ve even started closing the window!

Anyway, there are people who firmly believe that we can think ourselves better, or fool ourselves into believing that we’re fine. So, according to these people’s beliefs, instead of staying at home eating garlic, drinking camomile tea with honey, you should go out there behaving as if you’ve never felt better! Probably wearing a skirt.
So I did! I was out and about, and even went clubbing in the weekend. In a skirt.
“Good thinking”, I reasoned. “Bet I’ve fooled myself already!”. It’s surprisingly easy being gullible when it’s in your own interest, so to speak.

Yeah, right. That remedy only, and I mean only, works on hypochondriacs! That’s because these people tend to statistically be healthier than everybody else together! In other cases – just stick to the tea! Just do it!

Either way, I thought I’d get away with it if I’d just stay in bed on Sunday, eating soup. I was going to enjoy it as well. Earlier in the week German Girl gave me a book with a note saying “To my Swedish friend – so that you won’t get too homesick this autumn” (being a Swedish book!) I thought it was really sweet of her! And what a fantastic timing! :)
So, that went rather smoothly. The book was finished by Sunday evening and I was assured I was going to be fine the next day.

On Monday morning I felt RELATIVELY ok. Then I got out and it started raining. I haven’t seen rain like that for a long time! There were rivers forming in the streets, lakes on the pavements. At some point for a split second I seriously thought I saw a fish! In the end I contemplated binning my umbrella because what was the point? I was soaking wet anyway! And the most soaked part of me were my shoes and socks which stayed that way from 8 am until 5 pm!

That was when my immune system decided I was clearly taking the piss!

So now I’m having a cold.


PS. I don’t have a temperature though. Only got 36.2 degrees! Morning as well as night. And I wasn’t eating ice lollies or anything while taking it either. Bit weird, no? I thought us humans were supposed to have 37. Thought it was only reptiles and fish and stuff that had lower than that. Well, and now me apparently.

But I don’t really see it as a problem. The only thing is that, well, don’t you normally get some sort of super powers when these things happen? Isn’t that part of the bargain? Spiderman could suddenly climb extraordinarily well, Batman got really cool clothes…and the aliens in “The Alien” got to spit dangerous green stuff! So, I mean…

But look, I’m not asking for any of the ultra cool things, like the ability to fly, because I understand that all those are obviously taken. But maybe, I could…become an amphibian and be able to breathe under water? Something like that?

Oh bollocks…Kevin Costner has already got that one after “Water world”!

Ok, but maybe I could be the Ice Girl then? I could be the master of ice? Maybe heat could be my weakness. Fire could be my kryptonite! No, hang on, wait a minute, why the hell would I voluntarily want to have a weakness? Grow up! Seriously, maybe I could have polar bears as guard dogs and an army of Eskimos? Penguins…maybe we could involve penguins somehow? Yeah, maybe penguins could be my alternative to Dracula’s bats? Serve a similar purpose..?


…..zzz..


But then again, is Dracula really a superman? Have to check on wikipedia tomorrow…


..zzz…..


…but in that case I’m genuinely beginning to question whether Alien really classifies as one either.


Zzzzzzzzz…….(Falling asleep. It’s 03:19 am)



Well at least we can establish that both low as well as high temperatures can make you delirious…

Stop whatever you’re doing and pay attention. I’ve found a solution to all your problems (whatever they may be)! From now on everything will be possible, and the best thing is that you won’t have to make decisions or even think for yourselves! Yep, the future that we’ve all secretly been dreaming of is finally here and oh my, does it look bright!

I had bought a magazine and was absentmindedly glancing through it when I came upon an advert I must have seen a ridiculous amount of times before, but never really paid any attention to.

TEXT a PSYCHIC! Text STARPSYCHIC (space) and then your question to 88100. (Costs £1.50) And you get a proper, foolproof, real life psychic texting you right back, giving you a straight answer to whatever it is that you are troubled about! This is what mobile phones were invented for, surely. This is what they had in mind.

Brilliant!!!

-“I’m in Starbucks! At first I was thinking – get a latte, but then..being here, well..then now I’m suddenly being drawn to the frappuccinos. If I get one, will I regret it when I step out in the cold? Should I go for the latte, as I was in the beginning? Or what do you reckon? Please hurry, mista psycho, cos behind me big big queue! Not looking happy, not looking happy at all! Yours 4ever/Evelyn Xxxxxxxx”

My text message must have got lost in cyper space somehow because their reply didn’t seem to get back to me.

So I tried another one and thought that well,” daily life issues” are clearly not this persons
field of expertise, so I decided to play it big:

-“Ok, how do I manage to achieve great success in all areas of life? I wanna be rich and famous and find the love of my life. Over..!”

Bingo! Got a reply within minutes!

-“Start meditating. Think of stuff like love and respect. Do a yoga class. Ok?”

I will be completely honest with you. I did feel slightly suspicious there and then, thinking that maybe he wasn’t as professional as he tried to appear in the advert. But then suddenly I saw things in a different, more enlightened perspective…

All i had to do to acheive great success in all areas of life was to meditate...and take a random class of yoga?!!

I recall hearing Sir Alan telling all the contestants in “The Apprentice” that there was no way you could ever achieve great success without putting in an extreme amount of hard work and devotion.

Ha! In your face Mr Alan! Clearly all I, personally, have to do is to lay back, cross my legs and dream! Believe me, this is a revelation that I’m welcoming!



I can’t recommend this service enough. I warmly advice you to try it. Trust me when I say it will make your life easier! It really will. ;)

You can thank me later.

“Yours 4ever/Evelyn Xxxxxxxx”

My friend Patricia is whining about me not mentioning her in any posts. (It’s not even true. I have mentioned her.) She means that since I’m writing a diary I should point out when I’ve met up with her, what we did etc.

Hang on there for a minute…say what???

Diary? Who’s writing a diary? Certainly not me! I remember clearly that when I was nine it was standard procedure to hide your diary under your bed (because there nobody would ever be able to find it) so if I was still writing one today, there’s probably where it would be! And nobody would ever be able to find it! (Because it’s quite messy under there.) You can hide it wherever you want, really, but posting it on the net seems to go against all the rules I was ever told back then, as a nine year old!

And I don’t want to write about everything I do and everyone I see anyway, because it would soon feel like nothing more than a necessity. It would turn into a mere report and I wouldn’t feel motivated anymore. And that’s the last thing that I want. I’ve tried to write diaries at home and never managed to keep it up. But this was never meant to become one in the first place. I mean, sure, it’s hard not to mention stuff that you’ve done, but I don’t want it to be in a compulsive, chronological kind of way. That’s dull.

But Patricia went on:

-“Look, you said you were going to post a poem about your plant! I’m your friend. Don’t you love me more than your plant?!?”

Well…that’s a pretty special plant.

But either way, it wasn’t a poem about a plant. It was about a duck. And it wasn’t even my duck. It wasn’t even my poem! It was written by some guy in the ferry terminal in Cowes in the Isle of Wight! Jesus!!!

But you’re right about me wanting to post it. Damn good poem that was. Literature at its best.

So to some stuff that IS interesting to write about…
…my foot hurts! Really hurts. Still! From my walk the other day. I don’t understand what I’ve done. I must have stretched it somehow (without noticing) because it…still…hurts!
Well, that’s pretty much all, really… Very important news are sometimes best left without too much elaboration so that you’re allowed to reflect upon it liberally yourself. Let it sink in properly without too much interference. For as long as you feel appropriate. And if you start feeling sorry for me and getting sudden urges to start sending me flowers and chocolate, then I just want to say that I don’t have a problem with that at all.

Had a great bonfire night! Met my old flatmate Nicole and her boyfriend Jef on party number 1. (Not to be confused with Nicola, who was supposed to pop up at party number 2 but got stuck in Clapham… Almost met up with her tonight though, but decided against it since I’m in serious PAIN! Why? Read on…)
Haven’t seen her for ages, which is totally my fault! I’ve been either away or really busy every time she’s come up with ideas, which I’ve felt quite bad about… Going to change that now though and meet up again as soon as she’s back from Germany next week! :)
By the way, I normally tend to refer to her as “German girl” since there are just too many Nicoles and Nicolas in this city. But through an amazing coincidence the nickname turns out to suit her pretty well, her being German and all. (She’s referring to me as “Swedish girl”..)

But I’ve felt guilty about it! I really have. And thinking about this guilt suddenly reminded me of Helena wanting to come over to London for a weekend and having asked me which week suited me. I haven’t been sure whether I would go to Sweden or not in November so it’s been hard to say, but as it is now, I’ll be staying put here until mid December! I’ll email you tomorrow! Guilt number 2 sorted.

Guilt 3…was supposed to meet up with Marta during last week but didn’t. Was busy. I’m sorry…I’ll text you right away! Straight after this post. No, actually, I’ll do it right now! Doing it…doing it…done! ;)

Ok, now we’ve stepped into a vaguely guilt free (twilight) zone, let’s move on..

Remember my walk to Brighton? (If not, see earlier post…) The same obsession recently came over me again. But this time I thought I’d conquer the west rather than the south. The south has been done. Old news. You know that you know the area too well for your own good when you meet someone from some really small and obscure little village and they try to explain to you that…

- “You wouldn’t know where it is. Nobody does. Not worth knowing either.”
- “Oh, but I do! But I do! I know exactly where it is!”
- “But that’s not…possible. Nobody knows this godforsaken place! There’s no reason for… Nobody would ever voluntarily go there! You must be thinking of somewhere else?”
- “No, TRUST me, I know where it is…”

And then you go on describing not just the roads and neighbouring villages but also some of the various cows and trees in the fields close by! Then there’s a fair chance you’ll be able to detect some serious fear in that persons eyes! :)

So as I said, for the sake of my sanity, it was time for a new direction! (And also, you can’t really get much further south then Brighton without involving fish and seaweed…and I’m just not prepared to do that.) And what more appropriate place is there to invade rather than Windsor? That’s where the queen is! Go for the headquarter, I’d say. That’s what the aliens are doing in every sci-fi movie I’ve ever seen! And they are clearly more intelligent than me because they have their own flying saucers. And I don’t.

And I did it in two goes! Well, if you’ve walked all the way to Brighton, then Windsor seems to be a bit of a stroll, really. Or so I reckoned. I’m quite bad when it comes to estimations and planning. Or, let’s not call it “bad”. Bad is such a bad word. Let’s say I’m just very optimistic. But on my plus side I’m very determined! I don’t give up easily. So if I decide that a walk between Hounslow and Windsor, including a sightseeing tour of both Windsor, Eton and it’s neighbouring areas can be done in not much more than an afternoon, then I won’t give up until it’s done!

It was a nice day. All I say is thank God for my thermos (see earlier posts…) so that I could have a few well deserved coffee breaks on the way, because otherwise I’m not sure what would have happened. I’ve calculated that altogether that day, I walked between 28-30 km!
I’ve told people that it was a “jog/walk” instead of just a walk, and it was! It wasn’t particularly meant to be a jog, but it became one out of desperation of getting through the painful experience as quickly as possible. Some roads are more interesting then others. Walking past the whole space of Heathrow Airport is one of the less interesting routes! So it’s just easier to jog it rather than walk, just to get it over and done with.

But the last bit…between my local tube station and home (which is about 350 meters or so) was so painful I was more or less laughing (because if I’d been walking by myself crying, it would have looked weird)! I was so happy when I finally got home. I don’t know how to possibly describe it in words. So that’s what I meant earlier when saying I was in pain! I think my legs are seriously pissed off with me. And it’s very complicated when different body parts are in conflict with each other because you suddenly become some sort of UN mediator!

-“Listen, I’ll give you (me) a spa treatment later…if you (me) just stop hurting (me) so much! No? Ok, I’ve got a really luxurious body lotion… No, not that either? Ok, how about some Nurofen? Ok, we seem to have deal… (handshake)

Despite my negotiations I decided that this was a day that was made for working from home! But as I’ve explained in other posts, life just isn't that easy, is it? For some reason today was the day when my landlord finally decided that it was time for my bathroom to be renovated! So, after having woken up relatively early, made some coffee and turned on the computer I was disrupted by noise larger than life itself. There’s no way using only letters and words to describe exactly how loud the BAM BAM BAM was, or how out of tune the Indian song they were singing were. But I’m not complaining though. A completely guilt free day off! Nothing I could do about it, but to give in. Although completely guilt free days off normally includes some level of enjoyment, whilst mine only included an infinity of pain and boredom. (It’s sort of like when you’re busy and having loads to do and you find yourself longing for a cold, thinking “wouldn’t it be lovely lying in bed for a couple of days, eating Strepsils, watching movies”…and then when you actually GET a cold, it’s not that much fun anymore because then you don’t have a bloody choice!)

A weird thing happened during my jog/walk by the way. During the last weeks I’ve found myself thinking about a certain lamp me and my ex boyfriend used to have in Paris, on several occasions. For no reason. Whatsoever. Then yesterday, I saw the exact same lamp in a window! It was weird. It’s a lovely lamp. It’s made of some sort of crystal and is supposed to have healing effects if you sleep near it. My boyfriend at the time and his friend had been driving a load of them from St Tropez to Paris as a favour to his aunts friend and had therefore got one of them himself. And now I found the exact same lamp here in London. After having involuntarily been thinking about it! Couldn’t help but to stare manically at it for a while. Surreal..

Speaking of France.. Another guy, Rory, was over there this weekend and suddenly offered to bring me some snails. Snails are to me what lobsters are to a cat. In other words, I sort of like them. Then he comes home reporting failure, saying he couldn’t get hold of any!That’s the French equivalent to Chinese water torture! That’s what the French used to do to prisoners during the revolution! I’m sure that if you check through international treaties and carefully read between the lines, you’ll find that sort of thing to be illegal in civilized countries. That’s cruel, that is! And then he had the cheek to suggest I go pick some myself on the North Circular when it rains! That’s road kill!

(Having said that, there was a guy we used to live with in Paris, Fabrice, who used to go pick snails in the cemetery to give to his mum to cook when he was little. That must possibly be worse…)

Yeah, cheers, thanks, but then again, maybe not. Think I prefer getting my creepy crawlies from the counter in Harrods rather than on the motorway thank you very much. Apparently there’s also supposed to be some great, fantastic French shop close to Trafalgar square that a French guy here in London, Jerome, has found. Great snails there, he claims! Still not sure exactly where it is but it just a matter of time before I find it because now my motivation is on top!


PS. Still having seriously weird dreams by the way, but at the moment for some reason they all seem to concern either swimming pools, New York or swimming pools in New York. I’m not sure if this means I should go on a fantastic trip or just exercise more, but after a few relatively quick calculations I reached the conclusion that a trip to my local swimming pool would be much cheaper than going to one in New York, so the second my legs have forgiven me I’ll be down there swimming again!


PS 2: There’s something seriously wrong with the weather, isn’t it? Or is it just me? A couple of days ago people were going to the beach! Personally I was walking around in a little T-shirt and then buying the newspaper, I read stories about a heath wave! There were pictures of people swimming in the sea and children making sand castles on the beach all over England, from Blackpool to Bournemouth! It’s November! That’s not NORMAL! (But then again, today there’s been a storm so violent it almost pinched my window…) Well, at least when I booked my next flight last week, I voluntarily paid an extra fee to save the environment. So, I’m off the hook when it comes to global heating…right…? Right?

Have had some seriously weird dreams lately but I think this morning I managed to beat my own record! Listen to this. I dreamt that I was a tin of carrots! I dreamt that I was a tin of carrots! How is that even possible? Like..was I the actual tin or one of the chopped carrots inside it? All the carrots together? A merged symbiosis of both the tin and the vegetables?


I remember seeing my neighbour – a tin of peas – being taken away to be cooked for dinner and that I was a bit sad since we had become quite good mates there on the shelf. I was also a bit nervous, because what if I was next?! Then what?
What a sad way to end your days, on a plate with a fork in your chest! It was clearly too much for me to take because it woke me up…

Me off to Jefs party in Angel now. A bit late, but better late than not at all. It will be interesting cos he’s invited a very large amount of people to a very small bar…
I would much rather stay at home drinking tea, reading my book and watching some crap telly because it will be a very very busy day/night tomorrow, but haven’t been to his parties for a while so…have to go! (I just wish I could bring my pillow, but I’m not sure they’d let me in if I did. Life is just not very understanding sometimes..)

Oh, and happy bonfire night tomorrow!!! :)


PS. There’s this really annoying commercial on TV at the moment. I haven’t seen it more than twice but I managed to get equally annoyed at both times! It’s Nintendo advertising for their new “games for girls”! And in the advert you see an adult women playing a pink game on the bus and other places, getting really excited about making a cute little fluffy puppy jump and go “voff voff”! HOW PATHETIC IS THAT? I wouldn’t get excited about that even if was 7! Or 2. (Ok, maybe if I was 2..)