So, last weekend I was down in London on Saturday, Dave and I met up with Jon in a Canadian pub and we drank and we drank and we nibbled on some chicken wings and tortillas and then went for a wander round Covent Garden. Lush is lush (as Rachel from Newcastle would say)!! Lush is a hand made bathroomy products shop in Covent Garden, where Dave and I bought 6 bath bombs, and were intoxicated by the smell for ages. We also found a video shop which had a copy of "One Crazy Summer" which I've been looking for for ages, so I bought it, even though it was a bit extortionate! We went into Shelly's aswell, just so Dave and Jon could watch me trying on boots and inhale all that leathery air. Walked down by the river and sat there a bit, but decided to call it a night and Dave and I went back to Staines, where we somehow managed to eat an Indian (meal) aswell.
The week's been pretty normal really. Got handed a new book to start working on, and things have been getting a bit hecktic with some of the reviewers and stuff, but I have managed not to offend anyone this week. Just been told that Tony's going to be handing over his work to me while he's on holiday in Teneriffe next week. Fun fun fun!! The job's actually got better. There was some talk of a bonus, even though I've only sent one book off for publishing so far. But I wouldn't turn down money - it's my main motivation, no it's my only motivation.
My wrist was itching like mad on my way into work, I figured I must be allergic to the Johnsons Baby Oil Mousse or something (don't get excited, it's just a good moisuriser, and isn't as greasy as the oil, so it wouldn't be much good for playing baby oil Twister, but I guess if you had enough of it, you could spray it over all the circles and have to guess what colour you're about to stand on, make the game more interesting) Anyway, I looked at my wrist a couple of hours ago and I must have just scratched it on something or something, cos there's like a tiny cut, with a ity bity piece of skin hanging off, which if I pulled off I know it will kill me. Isn't it amazing how tiny things like that can hurt so much, yet I can get hit by a car and not really be bothered much by the pain of a gushing elbow and major-legally bruised thighs.
The second mystery year on Simon Mayo's show was fab today. The film clip to guess was Patric Swazey (or whatever) from Dirty Dancing, and I was almost in tears when they played My Name Is Luka by Suzanne Vega, I've not been able to listen to it without getting goose bumps down my legs since I heard what the song's all about. Then I was playing air-steering wheel to Little Devil by the Cult - I want my Cult CD back - I lent it to Dave - it's strange Dave having more of my CDs than I have of his! They also played Pseudo Echo's "Funky Town", but went and spoiled it all by playing Rick Astly. Ah well, they should just call nice years like that the nostalgia years. The theme tune to Dirty Dancing should be the anthem of my genenration. I remember dancing to that at Rachael or Helen's 18th Birthday party, I just remember a dark dance floor and me dancing with Helen cos there weren't enough blokes to go round and the last slushy song was some Madonna song - Crazy for you. I think it was also the night this bloke from Rugby Theatre tried to hug me and I said I'm and expert at Karate and he said I'm an expert at Origami.
In those days wasn't I the girl who was most likely to have an affair with a married man? There's this film - St Elmo's Fire. I was Jules. I still want that bright pink ball dress she wears in the first sceene, but I haven't got my boss wrapped around my little finger and I'm not having an affair with a married man, in fact, these days the only thing I have in common with Jules is the debt. But I don't think I'm at the stage where my credit card company is about to take back my Jeep and re-possess my pink appartment. Ah well, those were the days.
Dave and I are going to be quite cultured this weekend. We're going to see Compania Sara Baras is Spain's hottest flamenco dance company. At the Sadler's Wells theatre. Dave saw a poster last week when we were in London, and said he'd like to see it. I knew he wouldn't do anything about it, so I went and booked the tickets, so we're going on Saturday. Should be good.
I've been told I should wear boots more, but my excuse has been that it's been summery weather, so it's been too hot for boots. I don't think I'll have that excuse any more. I went shopping on Wednesday morning in Leamington (cos I had to go to the bank to sell some shares, and the bank in Acocks Green is too primative to deal with things like shares), anyway, I bought myself an ickle black skirt and some satin trousers and a black and pink top and a red top - I want to go red!! I've bought a red lipstick today - don't know if I can carry it off without looking like a prostitute. Anyway, now I can wear my big boots with my ickle skirt and I got some ickle boots to go with my trousers. I want a new leather jacket and some leather trousers. I was toying with buying some more PVC trousers from Top Shop, but restrained myself and will save the money to buy some proper leather ones if I can ever find any to fit me!! When I went to buy my ickle boots, they had this great pair of black stilettos, which I toyed with the idea of buying. You can never have enough shoes. Enough of the fashion stuff already.
Better do some work, or it will all gang up and bully me just when I want to go home. Well to Dave's. Have I told you that my car doesn't like the M25? He keeps on stalling - aparently it's something about going really fast to going really snailly slow. Should be a fun night on the M25!!
