Un Jeu de Tarot in Kensington

Last night, I was invited to a dinner party in West Ken. I fell in love with the flat before I'd even reached the door. As I walked down the street, lined with tall Georgian terraces, I narrowly missed being knocked out by a cricket ball as two guys played casually in the road. The endless rain of this English 'summer' had ceased at last and the sun fell low on the buildings. The flat was stunning - top floor, huge windows looking over leafy gardens, high ceilings and furnished with excellent taste.


The food was better still - avocado, tomato and mozarella salad to start, followed by a delicious vegetable-laden pastry dish, then possibly the largest portion of crumble I've ever seen in my life before finally cheese, grapes and port. Conversation was easy although I did get the giggles when one of our hosts tried to introduce us to a French card game called 'jeu de tarot.' Needless to say, I didn't have a clue about the rules but threw myself into it anyway. It didn't not go well. I lost every time. 


I love evenings with good food, wine and company even if it did take me two hours to get home because I went in the wrong direction completely in order to chat with my friend for about 10 minutes longer. Excellent logic, n'est-ce pas? Here's to more to come! Cheers! Tchin!

Balls, balls, balls ....

Being summer in England it is, of course, chucking it down with torrential rain - in August; I mean honestly. Confined to the house as I am, I can think of no better way to pass the time than to fill you all in with how my term ended ...

On the day of the ball, I picked up my friend from home who, despite staying only for one night, had managed to accumulate five suitcases! I can veritably hear the baffled cries of my readers: how can one person need so many bags, indeed five times the amount of bags one might originally assume? Why, by bringing three changes of outfit for one evening, of course. My friend is nothing if not a glamorous trouper.  After the aerobic workout that was getting them up the six flights of stairs to my room, situated in the eaves of my college, the girls came over to get ready. The night was amazing - from hairstylists, to vodka fountains, a thousands types of food, gorgeous fireworks accompanied by wonderful music, dodgems, ferris wheels, shisha, jazz bands; Tinchy Strider even made an appearance! All was a blur of excitement.

However, I am most definitely a morning lark, not a night owl, and love to go to bed early so as to wake at dawn, enjoy the quiet calm before the traffic starts and college awakes. Needless to say, I was a little worried about how to make it from 6.30pm to 7.30am straight without collapsing from sheer exhaustion! But, without getting drunk and without the need of an IV of caffeine, I danced my way through the night. A slight slump around 2.30am was cured by an amazingly effective power sit (totes the new power nap). Amazing night with amazing friends ... though not such amazing sleep afterwards since I was top and tailing with two others in a single bed! Two hours sleep + packing + four hour trip back to London does not make for a happy girlie ...