Thursday, April 11, 2013
wine, hair & weather
Over the last few weeks, I've had six events I've had to organise and make a success of.
Today, I did the last one (and it was great, if I may say so myself!) I am officially knackered. It's time for a holiday. Not that our wedding is a holiday, or so I have been told by wise ex-brides. Oh no. I'm going to be running around like a methamphetamined rabbit. But away from work and calls will be nice.
With that in mind, a few thoughts:
I will definitely have one fuckin' large glass of wine tonight
I would smash the whole bottle, but suspect I may slip into a coma before getting halfway through
Apparently Spring arrives this weekend
With weather forecasts saying hugely positive and sensational things like, "IT'LL BE TWENTY ONE DEGREES THIS SATURDAY," people around here are going completely bosbefok with disbelief and excitement.
I mean, dude. I haven't had to do up the top part of my coat for almost two days. I only have to wear two layers now, not three. This is a big fucking deal. And Londoners are suddenly smiling, and acting like they've all suddenly got laid. Twice. By Jessica Biel.
It's light until at least 8pm
I can see what's going to happen. I've lived here long enough now to know how shit works around here. We'll jet off to South Africa next week, and summer will arrive. Rainbows, Jesus, flying pies, actual sunny days, where people laze about in the park drinking pinot grigio.
Then we'll return, and everyone will be like, "You missed the best two weeks in Britain ever. The BEST two weeks we've seen in years."
And summer will suddenly be over.
It'll rain non-stop for the whole of June and that will be it. That's what is going to happen.
I'm getting a wedding treatment for my hair tonight
Having a light trim, a little shiny dye rinse and treatment at the Italian salon I go to in my neighbourhood. She really kneads my head when she washes it. Like she's kneading a ginat ball of dough that she plans to run through a pasta machine. The goes for it. It hurts. But it is also wonderfully stress-relieving.
May my head not turn green, though. Or something like that.
This time next week I'll be sitting in Heathrow, clutching a glass of champagne, a suitcase crammed full of wedding dress, ready to fly over Africa.
I'm coming, Mama Africa. And I can't wait to party.