I play the rules of the Londoner. During the week; I walk 100mph, make no eye contact, don’t talk to anyone whilst giving off the illusion of climbing the career ladder.
Until Friday night, when fellow Londoners and I get slushed, make too much eye contact talk to everyone and admit your career ladder is a measly step ladder gathering dust.
However when life gets too much I get the train to St Ives so I can curl up next to my Westie while my mummy cooks me dinner and pours rose down my throat.
So as soon as I could (7:30am) I was on my way down. I was feeling slightly emotional so I had my friend Bridget Jones to cheer me up.
Drama hit around 9:00am when I went to purchase a cup of tea. The train hostess lady didn’t believe my receipt signature matched my card signature.
She snapped at me and made me do it again
but still she was convinced that I was the Great Western tea criminal.
I had to give ID for my tea in the end.
Like I said I was feeling a little emotional already. I stumbled back to my seat with my tea in hand, looked out of the window trying to stop my eyes from filling up with the sound track of Coldplay “Fix You” in my head.
5 hours and 30 mins later I finally arrived and got over the buffet cart tea drama. Mum and I were doing our favourite activity that evening..hosting one of our dinner parties.
to sum up that evening in one quote:
Mum: “we have eight people coming, now do you think two roast chickens and a pork shoulder will be enough?”
Richard sighs, he has once again lost control of what once was a modest event.
I was looking forward to the weekend to stay at Mum’s holiday home in St Ives, named St Ives House(yes it took till 2012 for someone to think of the name.) Jess was coming down for a girly weekend.
Unfortunately I used the word “pop down” when I invited her, she wasn’t pleased when she realised she was on the never ending train journey.
I received this angry message half way:
I laughed and sipped my gin in the bar. Revenge on the munchkin kitten comment.
Anyway she finally got down (250 miles later haha).
We had this great idea that we would make our weekend at St Ives House like a magazine dream:
We made breakfast from our complimentary fresh food box whilst over looking the sea
Reality: After cooking breakfast I finally forced a very hungover Jess out of bed to eat cold bacon.
Jess then enjoys the view from the balcony after a nice long bubble bath
reality: Jess ends up looking like an escapee contemplating to jump.
we get take-away warm cornish food for lunch
looks like something from the set of Oliver.
Jess and I then admire the view with a glass of red
the most awkward self-timed photo ever
We put on an awesome Saturday night cocktail party in the lounge
Auntie Chrissy and her partner Colin come up for a glass of sympathy drink. Jess and I end up at the chippy debating whether we want mushy peas.
Jess goes to bed
Now looks like a couples holiday with sock puppets.