Friday 31 July 2009

• Dissertation finished.
• Dissertation printed and bound.
• Dissertation handed in.
• Bottle of red.
• Drunk.

Thursday 30 July 2009

• Garlicky prawns and polenta. Delicious and only five minutes in the making.
• Beginning to clear the decks of paper. I've got stacks that come up to my knees.
• My ipod fizzling out just as I put the key into my front door. Good timing, Eugene.
• A pot of coffee at 3am, some typing, and then watching dawn rise through the trees.
• A chocolate waiting for me on my desk.

Wednesday 29 July 2009

• Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep. I'm tired and want to go to bed.
• This story... 'The only side effect was that the treated mice temporarily turned blue'. Hee!
• The renewed vigour provided by a long hot shower. Warm, dry and clean.
• A couple of minutes sitting in the dying sunshine on the back step, listening to AB potter in the kitchen.
• Learning when to just step away.

Tuesday 28 July 2009

• A Zaha Hadid skeleton at Stratford.
• Help, advice and guidance (and some grammatical tutoring).
• Trying, and failing, to remember mnemomics. Futile.
• Finally sliding into a nest of sheets, pillows and limbs.
• Piecing together broken bits of cement with my toes.

Monday 27 July 2009

• Gold embossed lettering on oxblood leather.
• Chinese food in a box.
• Pro-Epil complex. Who would have known such a thing was possible, let alone desirable? Not me, apparently.
• Gossiping by the kettle. Cliche much?
• Falling asleep to the soothing tones of Radio 4, in the pitch black.

Sunday 26 July 2009

• The birds singing as I went to bed.
• Waking up to an unexpected text that made me smile.
• Sweetcorn cooked with cumin seeds.
• Rearwindow-esque spying on the flats opposite.
• Oh Lord, I love my hotwater bottle.

Saturday 25 July 2009

• A lost squirrel.
• Gazpacho.
• Playing with a stanley knife.
• Nina Simone keeping me going into the very small hours of the morning.
• Pockets in my cardigan.

Friday 24 July 2009

• A Superman-esque wardrobe change in the loos. From sixties poppet to Hoxton twat?
• Standing, barefoot, in the rain, watching the sun shine through the heavy water. So pretty. (So wet - My shoes may be irretrievably soaked.)
• Gideon has re-emerged!
• Someone to listen to me spit feathers with rage, and not only employ some fairly effective calming techniques but give me some actually quite good insight.
• Bumping into a fellow dissertation-sufferer, and commiserating with each other about the hell that is working and writing and writing and working. Not long to go now though.

Thursday 23 July 2009

• I watched this three times in a row, trying desperately to supress an enormous grin. Hee!
• Trying to imagine what, possibly, a cosmic cassoulet could be... (In my defense I have no idea how such a song has made its way onto my podlet)
• Prunes, prunes, prunes.
• A good meeting this morning - reminds me what's exciting about my job.
• The weight of a wedge of printed paper - satisyingly solid.

Wednesday 22 July 2009

• Walking through town with Timbo.
• Rocket in a bag. Spicy green goodness, and only TEN calories.
• Working, working, working til 4am, then hopping in the shower.
• Striped undies under a serious black dress. (Is it bad that it was an unexpected surprise? Surely a girl should be able to remember what underwear she puts on in the morning.)
• An elderly tourist hugging a PCSO in thanks for directions. The PCSO was gracious in his acceptance, despite the alarm in his eyes.

Tuesday 21 July 2009

• Lord Puttnam walking past, clasping a Daunt Books cotton bag. Hoorah for bookishness.(Relatedly, today was a day for celeb spotting - Marcus Brigstock at Leicester Square looking bemused and clutching papers, and Louis Theroux on a bike by the British Museum (Swoon). I also thought I saw Ian from Eastenders. It wasn't him, but not quite the same calibre of intellect, I suspect.)
• Feeling slightly like a cartoon school girl with my clothing choice - I think it's the ink-blue and black stripes, maybe?
• Banter between two cabbies leaning out of their windows in a traffic jam on Euston Road. "I like your cab, son - well nice". I wonder if they were brothers?
• Hotdesking around the other side of the building. I miss Holly.
• A recipe,an old favourite, remembered and cooked speedily before hitting the books again. Tasty.

Monday 20 July 2009

• A beautiful green-blue sky behind Kings Cross.
• Studying in the gastropub opposite the bus stop home for a couple of hours. Many bonuses - avoiding having to cook, a limited break in my workflow after being turfed out of the library, and minimal distractions of the domestic type.
• Moths really are very stupid, aren't they?
• The morning after a terrible night's sleep. Sometimes, it's a relief to have to get up and go.
• A twinkly grin and wave of a cafetiere, spotted out of the corner of my eye.

Sunday 19 July 2009

• Realising before I got all the way to City library that it would be shut. Several hours spent ensconced in the cafe at the British Library instead.
• Wonderful charts to illustrate my data. Am a geek.
• Homemade pesto.
• Phone calls to check that I'm still alive. (Only just...)
• A blue glass pebble tuckled in amongst the many treasures in my pockets.

Saturday 18 July 2009

• Standing on the sunwarmed terrace at the British Library, drinking tea and watching sparrows hop and flutter around.
• Discovering a packet of rainbow mentos in my pocket.
• An involuntary afternoon nap that allowed me to work way into the wee hours. I fell asleep listening to a podcast from the wonderful Stuff You Should Know boys, examining just how important sleep is. Subliminal messages, perhaps?
• Channeling Edward Gorey through my clothing choices.
• Moments between the sheets before the day started for real. Just five minutes more...

Friday 17 July 2009

• Laughing and laughing and laughing at Ross being silly about Britney.
• The moment I spied the whole gang through the pub door.
• A cup of earl grey on the hop.
• A lovely photo.
• Giggling to myself about a really, really awkward handshake moment. Why am I so inept?

Thursday 16 July 2009

• A freezer forage that resulted in hot cross buns with milk. Don't knock it til you've tried it.
• Blitzing through piles of washing. (It's the little things, right?)
• A can of Italian lemonade.
• Sneaking spirits.
• The weight of my duvet, clad in crisp, clean and cool cotton.

Wednesday 15 July 2009

• Having my tea cooked for me.
• A three year pass! Unexpected, but a bonus nonetheless.
• A quiet moment working in the half light, having been abandoned for bed.
• The feel of the light and air through an open window at 5am as I made a pot of coffee and flicked through Time Out.
• The rose I found on the pavement while on a midnight dash to the shop has bloomed, wide and pink.

Tuesday 14 July 2009

• Meandering home in the sunshine, picking up thrifty purchases on the way - including four books from the Friends of Russell Square stall.
• Being read to from Fowler's Modern Usage.
• Another stage finally met in the slow cruel punishment that is a restructure. My options look okay.
• Maybe weeping a little bit at Katie and Peter: Stateside. What is wrong with me?
• Jeff Buckley in the dark.

Monday 13 July 2009

• A pavement find. I think it's a bathroom shelving thing, but it's now holding stacks of books (colour coded!) by my door.
• Braided hair.
• Music playing in the background all day long.
• A phone call to solve a problem (hopefully).
• A cup of coffee and a parting kiss while still cocooned in bed.

Sunday 12 July 2009

• Coffee and a croissant in a very lovely cafe, before my day began properly.
• Tea in a pint measure (and being questioned about it with a slight hesitancy... as if the answer could be even odder than the reality.)
• Listening to AB laugh at (the utterly mysterious to me) Alan Partridge.
• Curious wardrobe combinations - over=knee socks, night dresses, cardigans, stripes, pinned-buns in my hair. Clearly shouldn't be allowed to spend too much time on my own.
• Five piles of papers at the foot of my bed.

Saturday 11 July 2009

• This is probably a shameful admission, but I appreciate the Argos shopping experience. I google something I need, price it up, reserve it online, walk 4 minutes down the road and - with no human contact until collecting the aforementioned items of need - have my purchases in my hand within 10 minutes of ordering online. It's the perfect meld of real-life and online shopping. Relatedly, I'm now the proud owner of a dictaphone. Whoo, and indeed, hoo.
• Asparagus soup.
• Kittens in the flat below. Oh so cute (but oh so smelly - I'd been wondering why the hall smelt of poo recently).
• The bus journey from Holloway to Hackney. There are many things I love about this, from the snatched glimpses of views way across North London, to the mix of people seen in different parts of London.
• A pavlovian response to tv, a sofa and a bottle of red on a saturday night.

Friday 10 July 2009

• Proving, once again, that nachos are indeed a meal.
• An excel triumph (with major props to JT) - the vlookup formula may be my new best friend. (I don't get out much, clearly.)
• Discovering chai teabags in my cupboard, promptly consumed by the pint.
• Frozen grapes.
• Listening to the soundtrack of my room - the bubble of the fish, the whoosh of London traffic, the hum of my computer. It's quite soothing, really.

Thursday 9 July 2009

• Pulling on a soft blue fruit of the loom hoody that must be (do the maths now...) twenty years old. Wow. I love it muchly, despite that fact that I resemble nothing so much as a butch gnome when it's donned. It's done me well, in the eleven or so years it's been in my possession. Thanks Dave.
• Parmesan grissini.
• Actually using the British Library resources. Guess where you'll find me on Saturday?
• A purple dress with my (currently ubiquitous) white plimsolls.
• Spending far too much time with ABChao's photos.

Wednesday 8 July 2009

• The squeak of grilled halloumi between my teeth.
• Weeping with laughter within seconds of putting down my bag and taking off my jacket. The champagne and stories about Dave the cat helped.
• Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail as characters in Watership Down. So close, yet so awfully far. Brilliant.
• Trying to explain the wonder of the Big Red. My audience remains unconvinced.
• Dredging the keys for Arundel from of the bottom of my bag, and so being able to let myself in.

Tuesday 7 July 2009

• Lightening so close it fizzed and crackled at the window, shooting through a dirty yellow sky.
• A fly-by encounter with the Mancunian. Interesting timing.
• A chivalrous (and unexpected) umbrella-related appearance at my desk.
• Alf taking on board that I'm at breaking point, and helping me to fix a crisis at midnight.
• An evening of opera and interesting conversation with a friend not often enough seen.

Monday 6 July 2009

• Taking the time to walk through Trafalgar Square this morning to see the first One & Other plinther. It was surprisingly striking.
• Bumping into a semi-neglected friend on Upper Street, and making an executive decision to catch up properly over a drink.
• Purloined cheesy balls!
• A stunning moon, moving with speed through the sky.
• The irony of a spectacularly badly timed email appreciated by the recipient. Oops.

Sunday 5 July 2009

• Vimto. Lots of Vimto with bubbles. (Inspired by two different Andrew Bs, bizarrely.)
• Watching a wee fox curl up and go to sleep on a sunbaked rooftop in the garden behind mine.
• A concerned late night email - clearly I have an unhealthy relationship with my phone if a few hours off the radar leads to fear of my early demise.
• A mad moment at 1am - sleep deprivation I suspect - wherein I drew myself a magnificent handlebar moustache, with liquid eyeliner.
• Really very good lemons.

Saturday 4 July 2009

• The feeling of leaving the house for a summer evening - freshly showered and scented, wearing a flimsy frock, basking in the feel of evening sunshine on moisturised skin.
• Falling off a chaise longue relatively elegantly - no damage to anything other than my equilibrium.
• The view from Crouch End Hill in daylight at each end of the night. The return journey was soundtracked by birdsong, the outward journey by northern soul.
• Sitting in the doorway in easy companionship with partners-in-crime old and new, contemplating the world in a red wine fug as the sky lightened over the lawn outside.
• Giving wardrobe advice via text. Just call me Gok.

Friday 3 July 2009

• A start to my day so slow it allowed me to learn, after years and years, the name of one of my favourite pieces of music. Cheesy, much?
• Spontaneous cava and edamame beans on Highbury Fields with Ellie. Hello summer.
• Ineptness at Angel. Twenty minutes after I arrived at the station, sitting reading papers in the sunshine I began to wonder where Miss Hartwell had got to. Upon calling to assess her location, I heard her answer her phone - on the bench RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. She had also been sitting, happily reading in the sunshine for the past twenty minutes. To add to the amusement, the man who had been sitting between us laughed and laughed and laughed - and then picked up his phone to call the person he was meeting. Just in case.
• Temperatures suitable for a fifties frock.
• A funny fish-tank cleaning reference.

Thursday 2 July 2009

• A plastic model of a woolly mammoth on top of the recycling bin at Homerton Station. Bizarre.
• Sun warmed metal on bare thighs - skirt slightly too short, perhaps?
• White wine spritzers made so long they were pint-sized.
• Mastering eyeliner with a brush, not a felt nib.
• Consolidating a new friendship.

Wednesday 1 July 2009

• A tomato-red dress, with pockets. It hits all the criteria I had for a red frock - effortless, alluring and pocketed.
• Lunch in the sunshine.
• A couple of hours at home, in a golden-washed room.
• New bank cards!
• My latest earworm? In Denial. (Indoctrination, some might say...)