I’m sat on my deck eating toast and blueberry jam, with a glass of Tropicana ruby breakfast on one side and a ridiculously strong black coffee on the other, and the sun is SHINING.
Life is good.
ALthough, admittedly, I am feeling a tad rough today after about a bottle and a half of red last night. After work last night… after a horrendously crap week, but let’s not go into that… I tagged along to Century with a couple of the guys from work and the lovely bloke who was responsible for my first O2 box culture experience at Julie Andrews the other week. In fact, for the first half hour of our evening the guy did nothing but apologise for it! Honestly, I had free wine and a comfy couch… I didn’t mind that Julie Andrews was crap!
So anyway, Century. For those who ain’t Shaftesbury Avenue savvy, I should explain. Century is a magical haven that hides behind a cleverly concealed secret door on Shaftesbury Ave, a five floored wonder of a members bar, with a roof terrace that I love so much I have occasionally dreamt about it.
Thing is, I haven’t been there for about 6 months, because it was a place that TVboy and I used to frequent rather often. After he unceremoniously dumped me in a Weatherspoons… quite frankly I instantly returned to the sort of riff raff they don’t let in Century.
That’s all changed now though! What’s that? Ritzi’s got a fabulous job now and can pretty much swan into any members bar in the West End of my own volition? Eat that TVboy.
I’m going to try and actually get some blogging done this weekend… I’ve been doing so much that I don’t have time to write about it! What’s the use in that? Might as well have not happened!
Back to coffee and toast… sunshine on the common with Irish later, hopefully I’ll manage to tear myself away from this sunny decking long enough to shower away this hideous hangover.
Much love folks,