Festival chic

Spent this Saturday having a very pleasant time hanging out at a college music festival selling ice cream, enjoying lots of music sets and sneakily, some might say cunningly, engineering it so that all my friends came along to say hello. The sun was even out!

But no, alas, alack, woe. I dash off for a mere half an hour to grab some dinner with the old flatmate and, as soon as I head back, it is CHUCKING it down. No word of a lie - forget cats and dogs; think pigs and elephants. Fool that I am, I skip along trying to hide under trees and whatnot. Meet the friends and we realise there is only one thing for it: we must embrace the rain. Yes, we WILL work the festival-ly look, as Best Friend so aptly described it. For those of you not accustomed this means: smudged and/or running mascara, soaked hair (requires regular 'jugeing' for rock star volume) and in my case a very inappropriate white linen top which went see-through fairly quickly.

Despite being un peu cold and wanting to thwack the lady in front who was smugly allowing her umbrella to drip all over me, twas a fabulous night made better by my friends' final set - anyone for a good bit of Cee Lo Green and some vintage Motown?

Back to reality and work now but, unfortunately, I have been horrifically unproductive all of today and yesterday but hopefully this evening I will work like a worky thing (yes, my grasp on the English language is outstanding). I fear I may get distracted as I have a bizarre urge to google wellies. I think I've caught the festival bug!

E(1) is for Edgy

I've just spent a lovely day (topped off with just a hint of spring-ly sunshine) avec the Best Friend in Spitalfields and think I am in love. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to shop anywhere else ever again. Well, this is clearly a lie as I love my Zara and a cheeky bit of Topshop from time to time but there's something oh so satisfying about digging out a vintage item from a big heap of, quite frankly, questionable clothing (were red leather hot pants a good idea, even in the sixties?) As I still harbour a somewhat snobbish concern, totally against the vintage mentality, over the origins of the clothes, bags, belts and broaches were the main culprits aujourd'hui.

As we walked down Brick Lane I was completely caught up in the bustle and the noise. I can't wait to move back to London permanently. I am most definitely not made for the country, far less for a small town. Once university is over, it's back to the big smoke for me and all the excitement, diversity and history which comes with it. I realise that, attending one of the oldest universities in the world as I do, that statement is somewhat ridiculous but there's something of the chaotic, the ramshackle to London's history which I adore. Mostly though, I am consumed by the grittiness, dirtiness and dubiousness of London's past, something which feels lacking from the smooth, sandstone colleges of academic life.

That said, I simply do not know my home town well enough and have thus resolved to eschew the touristy and the tacky London, the better to hunt down the quirky and offbeat. Goodbye Leicester Square with your dodgy night clubs, hello Portabello with your soulful blues nights!

New year's resolutions

I firmly believe that I am cursed when it comes to NYE. Two years ago, I was stranded at the world's most bizarre party. A friend and I came up with the marvellous plan of ringing up an old friend and inviting ourselves to his house party in Euston. However, after missing the last train, being dumped by a cheat of a taxi driver in the middle of nowhere and faced with policemen who seemed to be having difficulty with the concept of London let alone with the notion of providing directions, we decided to call it quits. We finally arrived (at 3am) back at Victoria to stumble back home to bed. Last year, a group of us were having a lovely dinner before we realised that we had not organised a single thing. Cut to us texting everyone in our phone books trying to scout out a glamorous location for midnight (not my proudest moment, I'll admit). Finally, we got an invite from a girl whom we knew from school. In our desperation, we headed over. Whilst sitting at her glass dining table, it spontaneously smashed to pieces which I found a very fitting metaphor for the entire night. We left at approximately 5 past midnight.

So this year, with absolutely no expectations (perhaps the downfall of many a NYE), we set off for our party. Lovely dinner beforehand and a brief stop off at the pub before we arrived, all quite merry... And when I say merry I mean I can't remember much past midnight. It is such an unpleasant feeling not being able to remember how I behaved or what I did and I feel terrible for placing such a burden on my friends. I've not been able to stop thinking about it for days and feel ridiculously embarrassed as well as unable to work out where I went so wrong.

However, I've resolved not to dwell too much longer on the whole debacle which completes my triad of dubious New Year's Eve parties, save only to take away these realisations: Firstly, how lucky I am to have such savvy friends who did such an amazing job taking care of me. Best Friend's dad was also (unexpectedly) amazing and all made me feel a little bit better in the morning by gently mocking me for my drunken behaviour including believing we were living in the 1990s. Secondly, to curb drinking so much. More difficult as I can't pinpoint exactly where I went wrong and am sure I've drunk more than that before but hopefully this memory will serve as an acute warning in the future, if ever I feel myself tempted towards one to many.

This brings me to my general new year's resolutions, aside from being grateful for my friends and trying fairly hard not to become comatose too often. People often treat resolutions with such disdain but I love the feeling of hope which a new year brings, a feeling that one can start afresh and not be dogged by past attitudes and behaviour.Et voila, one no longer even has to try with such an amazing website - why not give it a go?

Coffee art

Spent yesterday afternoon just sitting and chatting with two old friends in a lovely, independent coffee shop with big misty windows and all the tables squashed in tight. Picturesque, though I did have to steal a chair which somebody had reserved for their handbag but, let's face it, inanimate objects do not chair privileges get. 
Fings wot i like: 
1) That I have people in my life that I can not see for months on end but when we get together again the conversation's easy because we've known each other forever. However busy university life gets, you can always make time for something you really want to do.
2) Coffee art. Literally makes the coffee taste better, or the caffeine flow quicker! Definitely a topic for scientific study right there.