29ºC. And Some Pictures.

 Current Mood Alert: HOT

I can't believe I'm i my London attic the same way I'm usually in Cádiz every summer: suffering from sticky hot weather which prevents me from sleeping or doing anything in general. 30ºC today I think it was. With no sea in sight...

After coming back home with my feet twice their size and fully roasted, I proceeded to the rummaging (rummage? Mm...) inside my suitcase, which is still half-packed. And apparently I forgot to bring summer clothes. Perhaps I wasn't 100% sure I would be still here by summer, or perhaps I wasn't aware that this kind of days existed here. I was wrong, on both accounts.  

I wanted to go out and buy some emergency items, but really, between 1 and 5pm, my free hours, the temperature out there was not inviting me to do half an hour return trip under the sun. With no summer clothes on, don't forget the aim of the trip. 

So I have nothing Londonish to report. I've taken some pictures, though. Look, look:

Big Ben from Trafalgar Square (I didn't have the foggiest idea you could see it from there):

Basil (proper noun for me): 

Harry The Vacuum Machine (yup, it says 'Henry', but for some reason in my head it's been Harry since the very first day and it's been impossible for me to change that). Don't tell me you don't feel like vacuuming all day long, if only to see his funny little happy face:

Victorian money at the British Museum:

What else, what else...my room the day I arrived. You can see the towels set too (doesn't look like this any more...):

From my window:

Me being bohemian at Hyde Park making some squirrel friends by doing something you shouldn't do, this is, feeding those squirrels:

More and better tomorrow, when I will also tell you about my five weeks Advanced Conversation course that I've booked. Highly interesting topic for people who's not me, I'm sure.

Take care,

xxx

Two Lists, Bridget Jones and Cristiano Ronaldo

Current Mood Alert: chattyish, sort of.

What a long day this is being, my imaginary friends.

As there is no way internet lets me finish The Dogs Whisperer, I'm doing a list of things good and so-so of this my last day of freedom being the owner of a house in London.

List of Good Things That Happened Today:

- The washing machine worked fine.

- The dryer worked fine* (->*after texting V. asking about what I could be forgetting, because it didn't exactly work at the beginning).  

- Basil still alive.

- It was such a nice and lovely day, and people were crowding in the parks doing about everything. A very lovely and springy atmosphere.

- I have found a fantastic new plug adapter (mine was crap with thin plugs and this one is not). 

- I've been watching Dancing With The Stars AND enjoyed it. Not that this is a good thing per se, but I do like to watch dancers and this particular couple was brilliant.

- The Mentos Fruit pack hasn't three little packs inside, but FIVE.

- I didn't get lost while walking to Harrod's.

- The Murder, She Wrote episose that I was watching this morning and whose resolution couldn't see because I had to go, not only was being aired when I came back home late in the afternoon, but it was mysteriously in almost exactly the same scene I left in the morning. This is Cosmic Magic, no other way of seeing it.

List of so-so Things That Happened Today

- Oyster eat all my money and now I'm a bit worried about how much it is eating.

- My right knee looks like a bun after loosing balance on the stairs of a Top Shop in front of Harrod's, and I'm not sure about the frozen peas working as they should. Hpmf.

- I've been eating too many left overs (pizza, pasta...) and now I'm paying for it.

All in all, good day.

Oh, and while having dinner, I finally remembered the dream I had last night and that I couldn't remember.

I was in a church, because someone was taking his first Communion, or a wedding, or some church-related event like that. So I see that in the altar, Cristiano Ronaldo is sitting there, in a velvet and gold chair, and next to him there's a priest, but not your regular priest, but someone who is the spitting image of Palpatine (if you don't know who is Palpatine, go google it, you shameful creature xD).

At this point I want to clarify that I like Cristiano Ronaldo ZERO.

Anyway, CR looks at me, and keeps on staring for a while. Sudddenly Palpatine looks at me to, and starts gesturing for me to go to him. Since I don't like CR one bit and I'm clearly suspicious of a priest looking like Palpatine, I try to look distracted while thinking why the ceremony I'm attending, whatever it is, doesn't start.  Suddenly, Palpatine starts walking towards where I am, his face not truly friendly, but mostly angry. I look at CR back, imploring with my stare to help me and stop Palpatine to get any closer; he smiles beatifically and ... can't remember anything else.  Thank god.

xxx

PS. In other unrelated news, today I saw Bridget Jones. The movie one. Honest. You can't imagine how much HER she was. Same hairstyle, same complexion, same walking, same rosy cheeks...EVERYTHING. Well done, people styling her for the movie (although Bridget Jones is a brunette in the books).

For a couple of seconds I was tempted to follow her and start a casual conversation about tops at TopShop, but my knee was hurting and, quite frankly, I doubt it was a good plan ;oP

My First London Cold, Blackbirds and Basil.

Current Mood Warning: descriptive


It's 4:51 pm according to Big Ben, although time is something relative here in London. I've been awake for what feels like two or three days, but it's just 5 pm. Or maybe it's that I've got this silly cold that came out of nowhere and have entered The Nebula again. 

I'm halfway through my third week in here, although it's not really counting. My host family has gone on holidays for a week, to Greece I think, which means I'm home alone. Well, not really alone. Basil is here, too.

Basil is an actual basil plant that I have to keep alive for a whole week. Never in my live I've been able to keep a plant alive, so I might be slightly obsessed with Basil's daily looks. I keep on checking on it, looking for the smallest traces of an inevitably and untimely death due to inadecuate maintenance.

But to the point. The only sounds I can hear are birdies, blackbirds, and the 37934547 airplanes flying over our Common. But not. One. Kid. NOTHING.

I'll talk further about them, but so far I have to say that V., the mother, is a very very nice woman* (*opinion subject to last minute changes), and she told me that I could bring someone here if I didn't want to be alone or something. The truth is that, so far, they treat me very well and I don't work half of what other aupairs I know do.

I'm going downstairs to take my medicine, and to see if the blackbirds are still partying in the garden, under my window.

 x

The Whats and Whys of Once Upon a Junction

 Current Mood Alert: blah

After two weeks of living here, I have found, at last, some time to open the blog that I so happily promised before leaving.

Clapham Junction is the busiest railway station in all England. Or that's what they say, anyway. It is also located in my new neighbourhood. Because I'm now a Londoner. Not in the imaginary way I've always been, but in fact and truth and reality (brutal improvement).

But before getting blog dirty, I'm going to put some socks on top of the heating of my new room in the attic. I love these heatings; they can dry anything you put on top, whether a pair of thin socks or your winter jeans. 

It's 10:37pm according to Big Ben. Night night.