The Dove is here and we're in full celebratory mode, what with the wet bunting strewn across our balcony and glasses of champers being tossed around.
Yesterday we wandered through all the street parties happening in the area. There are reports that thousands of miles of flag/bunting has been sold across the country. Optimistic little Brits have pulled their barbeques out onto the street, assembled ping pong tables in the streets, dressed up, handing out cakes with The Queen's face emblazoned across them.
A real chance for people to get to know their neighbours and celebrate. It's so ridiculously British, and have to say, heartwarming.
Even in the rain, people have smiles on their faces while trying to catch a glimpse of members of the Royal family.
(Even Banksy has got involved, as seen by his latest stencil in north London)
It's wet, obviously, so we're rocking out at home in front of the telly, watching all the Jubitastic stuff going down on the Thames, while madly shoving clothes into backpacks and charging cameras and generally trying to get our shit in order for BALTIC EXTRAVAGANZAH 3000.
Dude. We're flying to Estonia this evening.
Two mad bints, in their thirties, running amuck in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.
So we're off. God knows what adventures await Dove and I. We still don't know how to say hello in any of the languages, and we have about 3 hours to learn.
My mum: "Now you be careful. Russians can be real scheisters. Don't go anywhere with strangers, and don't wear any flashy jewellery."
Bless.
Peas: Mum. We aren't going to Russia, and I'm 31.
Mum: Just don't flash anything around.
Peas: You mean I should leave my diamond-encrusted crown at home then.
Bye bye babuschkas.
1 comment:
Where are you peaster? Miss my nightly reads...,
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