I'm in London for a long week away. It's a holiday, birthday treat and general spending spree wrapped up with a sliver of research and the odd romantic excursion. Met up with someone who makes me feel like Laura Jesson and another who has the ability to make me feel like the only person in the room one minute and wallpaper in another room the next.
Taking a break from it all, I feel wonderfully pretentious enjoying the breeze on a Southbank bench. Sarah has very kindly allowed me to use her room for the duration of my trip. She shares a house with a lovely bunch of London types; all working in PR, Advertising and Management, working and partying in serious measures. My first night in London produced a fantastic house party of epic proportions, lasting til 10am. Rum punch in a storage box, dancing in the kitchen and rooms full of good looking people with exciting careers. It all started to become fantastically overwhelming - I'd been in London for 6 hours and had already gotten lost, exchanged cross words with a cabby, bought an oyster card and got stuck in the underground entrance gates and snogged an actor...this was going to be one hell of a holiday!
Day 2 didn't disappoint either, went rowing on the Serpentine (although Peter Stringfellow had the same idea) followed by a spot of Sushi at Harrods - as you do, who knew a little Tuna Sashimi was just the thing for a hangover.
It wasn't just me either, the rest of my borrowed housemates were burning the candle at both ends that weekend too, so by Sunday I decided that a little comfort and slow food was called for. Easily found an organic green grocer on Broadway Market open on a Sunday (a revelation) and whipped up a mushroom and cashew nut pie (vegetarian equivalent to steak and kidney) followed by Bakewell Tart and custard. As I hoped there were some delighted, slightly hungover "hmmm" and "yummy" exclamations at appropriate intervals. The rowdy party house quickly turned into a cosy, near festive home, even started playing games at the dinner table once the dishes were cleared.
Late, revellers arrived eeking the last drops out of the weekend and attacked the leftovers with rabid enthusiasm dipping cold roast potatoes in the custard! Bon Appétit!