Just spent the morning doing a mah-hu-sive pile of washing up and hoovering so feeling justalittlefruity and abitholy now. No work for meee this week - yippeeee!
So now sitting on flatmate's laptop (not literally, obviously) and listening to the new Goldfrapp single. Oh La La indeed.
Had a brilliant weekend. Last thing on Friday at work we cracked open a few bottles of wine, to celebrate my birthday this week, and they presented me with membership to the Tate galleries. I'm so chuffed! They are some of my favourite places in London. Hopefully this week I'll have time to mooch around them a bit more. PLUS I get to swan into the membership rooms now. Tee hee hee! I'm aiming to check out the one in St Ives this year now as well. It's such a fantastic present!
Then on Friday evening my flatmate invited some people over for dinner and to help us knock back some of the cheap booze. All got very silly and we ended up doing kareoke on the playstation. Oh dear. Mind you, I'm sorry but I kick arse at Deee-Lite's 'Groove is in the Heart'. I'm sure I should put that on my CV.
Stupidly, stupidly booked myself onto a 9am train to get back to my parentals the following morning. But I did manage to crawl myself out of bed and grab enough stuff for a couple of nights in deepest, darkest Wiltshire.
But by the time I got to Paddington I was badly in need of some caffeine. Saw this sign in Starbucks which made me laugh. I'm sure it's not supposed to sound like such a command. Maybe I'm old fashhioned or boring, but I think milk and sugar is customisation enough, really.
Anyway, had a wonderful few days seeing mum and dad. And drank a LOT of alcohol. Coupled with getting up early to walk the dog, I think I'm missing about five or six hours of really solid, decent sleep.
Also, it was the village fete for my parents villagge.
They. Are. All. Mad. And not a little arts and craftsy around the waist and ankles.
Now I promise I'm not being cool, or snotty, or 'aren't the country yokels quaint' here. The village fete is a stunning event. The cream teas are legendary, it's huge fun for kids, they had a great live jazz band this year and the bookstall is superb. I got a beautiful old book of quotations for 20p. I mean, 20p. But half of the fun is everyone swapping around the same old village junk that has been cluttering up their houses for years. Decades. And don't get in the way of any old dears making a bee-line for the plant stall. They will take you out at the knees. Much has been written in this world about the cunning, deviousness and generally vicious outlook of 'little old ladies'. It's all true.
To cap it off, I found out this weekend that the local vicar is called Roger. Roger the Vicar. I mean, you couldn't make this stuff up...
I'm sure they'll be more anecdotes from The Village. It keeps us amused.
I think I'm going to carry on my domestic god theme for the day. I might bake a cake. But I'll leave you with another picture from the countryside, which it was very nice to be back in for a few days. Apologies for being weeny - it's only from my camera phone. Though looking at it again, it is a bit Blair Witchy....