Friday, April 13, 2012

endeavouring to


I'm getting itchy feet again.

Literally a first world problem, but two weekends not travelling and my travel clock is starting to tick.

Forget my biological clock, my travel ticker is going fucking beserk.
I've been in London only two weekends in a row and I'm about to literally take a bite out of my fist.

I have another few months to go until I can set foot in Europe again. I am literally climbing the walls.
As a result I am doing all sorts of shit on my weekends to pass the time. No more mini-breaks to the continent! No wheelie suitcases! No duty free champers! What the fuck has my world come down to?

I'll tell you. Domestic delights. Ah. So this is what normal people (couples whose primary life mission isn't to see a hundred countries in their lifetime) do on their weekends.

Endeavouring to abide by balcony improvement plan.

I like to call it 'balcony gentrification.' More accurate than literally 'gardening,' as we don't have a garden. We do, however, have a balcony. That we never sit on. Not while we are in Switzerland/Norway/Poland anyway. (Gah!)

It faces a busy road and unless I'm sitting spread-eagle in my chavtastic fluffy dressing gown, literally don't find any joy by sitting out there whatsoevah.

I can't smoke on it. So what's the point?

Anyway, so we're making it more sit-friendly. By planting all sorts of crap in pots, adding trellises and creepers, hanging flower pots over the railings, and generally bringing down housing prices in the area because we are behaving like a bunch of tofu-eating hippies.

Literally quite fun playing with mud and a trowel set though. While dreaming of my next adventure in the Ukraine.

Herbage. Definitely needs to grow. Will buy trees this weekend.

Endeavouring to get back on my shiny red bicycle.

Remember Dennis? No? Well he is my Pashley Brittania. Lash of a bike, bantah factah 10/10.
Dennis has literally been in a perpetual state of hibernation, and am planning to release him from his coma this weekend.

The Brit and I will cycle somewhere, literally stopping to polish off a bottle of pinot.
Dennis is a proper lad. Literally. If he weren't a bike, but a human lad, he'd be getting pashed at least three times a week. He's not called a PASHley Brittania for nothing sweetheart. #PashLash

Endeavouring to plan next trip
Have passport, will travel. Have computer, will book next trip.
Trying to get to Japan this year. Literally can die once have been to Tokyo. Have always said I am happy to die once I have:

1) Got a book deal, published book (Yay!)
2) Been to Tokyo

We have to save, literally, a whole bag of money to go. But it has to be done. Septemberish. So will endeavour to book flights this weekend. Literally, sayonara.

Endeavouring to do cool things across London
Dude, literally. I am on a high crest with London at the moment. Mostly. Peaks and troughs, is my relationship with this city. And right now, it is literally peaking like a mothahfuckah.

May the sun shine and may Zara be filled with pastel coloured trousers (literally, all the rage, literally), this weekend.

Rah.

PS: Wee and a tea? Brew and a pooh?

2 comments:

jenette or more commonly known as "j" said...

Itchy feet? I hear ya!

Hera said...

Nice! Not too many people love to garden and bike. You know what you want in life. :))