I feel like i’ve been in London for much longer than 3 weeks, but at the same time it’s been the fastest 3 weeks ever! I’m currently experiencing the honeymoon period, a state of awe and wonder, everything is brand new and shiny, nothing is irritating, and I just want to be fully immersed in it all, snogging the face of this place!
This is clearly not sustainable for many reasons, firstly the bank balance will put a stop to this love affair sooner or later, secondly, I’m indescribably tired. I genuinely don’t know how I am still going, I’m flashing on empty, I need a recharge.
This week I paid a visit to WC, this place is exactly what it says on the tin, an old underground loo! It was one of the bars I’d seen whilst scrawling Pinterest for hidden gems. WC is the epitome of quirkiness and it screams date night (boys, write this one down!) When entering you are treated to lots of original features such as cracked tiles, chipped ceiling paint and bare brickwork, Its right up my street! This place is clearly a hit as even on a Tuesday we have to wait 15 minutes for a table, it’s totally worth the wait! After careful deliberation of the cocktail menu we are soon sipping espresso martinis (I’m again up all night! When will I learn?) and oggling at the next tables baked camembert. I will definitely be back again to stuff my face with sausage and cheese.
I’m not getting my violins out here but I’m not the most luckiest of people. Something always seems to crop up and throw a spanner in the works. I’m always that person to buy the faulty electrical item, to get kicked off a flight because its ‘overbooked’ etc etc. So when things are going well, I can’t help but wonder when is it all going to screw up?
This week I had my first teaching observation. Observations are awful, powerful people hold on to your every word and stare at you whilst you attempt to fill the minds of little people with knowledge. I’m not quite sure how, but I managed to pull a grading of outstanding out of the bag! It all just seems a little too good to be true! I’m having so much fun, I do what I want, when I want, I’m working less, socialising more, laughing more, the list goes on. I’m just going to sit here patiently waiting for it to muck up…maybe!
Thursday evening was all about Amy, Happy Birthday to you! To celebrate we went to La Petite Bretagne in Clapham to get our fill on crepes of all varieties. First up is savoury, as soon as I see raclette on the menu I have my knife and fork in hand and I’m bashing them on the table like an impatient child! The crepe is YUM, I love how its folded the french way like a little parcel of cheesy, bacon(y) goodness! For puds I decide on the white chocolate crepe of wonder with added speculoos. I’m left scraping every smudge of chocolate off the place because it was just THAT good.
Hooray for Friday! My romance with Clapham continues as I spend another evening here, this time I’m showing my new digs to my friend Poppy. We go for dinner at one of my favourite spots so far, number 32 in the old town. A bottle of red wine and a belly full of mussels later we head to Venn Street records to be serenaded by some live music. Friday was never meant to be anything other than a civilised evening but after another bottle of red it all got
a bit very out of hand. Spontaneity gets the better of me and next thing I know I’m in a taxi on the way to Brixton to meet my house mate at Phonox. This establishment is one that I would never choose to acquaint but impulsivity and my desire to squeeze every ounce of fun out of the day sees me turn up to this place! OH if only I knew what was ahead of me that evening I would have just tucked myself into bed post Venn Street records and all would have been well Saturday morning. I’m assured Phonox has a semi famous person playing there tonight due to the £15 entrance fee (Yes, £15! This really hurt my feelings!) and I feel my age as I have never heard of the chap. I find my housemate and her lovely friends and we go straight to the bar, I can sense I’m going to need to be particularly drunk to fit in here. Ten minutes in and I find myself smooching a 23 year old. Oh god. A further 30 minutes and I’m boffing up my rather expensive dinner/concoction of red wine and gin. What is life. I haven’t been sick on a night out since I was 17. Enough is enough and I’m dreaming of my pillow, I’m too old for this. I’m rescued by the most sweetest door lady and I very quickly become fond of her calling me “baby girl” She takes great care of me by doing a grand job of stroking my hair and keeping it out harms way. Girls should always have each others backs. What have I become?
Saturday is a very exciting day for me, but I wake up in a world of pain. Excitement can’t quite creep in as all I can think about is how absolutely GOD AWFUL I feel. I have the morning to recover until Mother Fecak arrives for a weekend of loveliness and the pressure is on! I dose up on grease, carbs and the strongest pain killers I can find and I’m just about ready to face the day.
First stop we head to the Mews of Mayfair to get knee deep in Afternoon Tea! We chat non stop that we forget the food is even there and my tea goes cold! The best thing about paying that little bit extra for a fancy afternoon tea is the bottomless rectangle sandwiches. Bringgggg it on! I scoff too many savoury goodies that I have barely any room for sweet treats! I find just enough space for a currentless (it’s a sign that It was made for me and therefore I must eat it) scone and that’s me done. Food coma induced, it’s time for cocktails.
Mumma Fecak is absolutely petrified of heights, so what happened next is amazing. I pull out all the tricks I know in the field of reverse psychology and before I know it we’re in the lift to the 32nd floor of the Shard. Hooray! Go Mum, I’m so proud of her, even I have wobbly legs so we head straight to the bar to settle our nerves.
After repeating multiple times ” It’s a treat, it’s a treat” We hand over £31 for two, yes two drinks. I sip like it’s the last drink to ever touch my lips, plus we’ve managed to bag a window seat on a saturday night and can’t afford another round so we need to make this one last the long haul. My cocktail is called Lady Kiss and comes with a little flower floating on top. Cute. The views are too much, London is so pretty at night. The pictures don’t do it justice you have to go and witness the fitness yourself.
With our feet firmly on the ground we jump on the tube for a stroll around Canary Wharf. There’s a light festival on at the moment, it’s alright, nothing special but it’s always good to be a little bit cultured.
Brunch is now a firm favourite meal of mine and I’m slowly working my way through the best brunch spots in the big smoke. My mum isn’t one for anything particularly fancy when it comes to food so when we rock up to the Dairy in Clapham old town her face is a treat when a super fancy, green, overly dressed, gluten-free breaky is placed before us. I constantly ask for her reassurance that she’s enjoying her meal. We adopt the pixie eating method to make the plate last over 2 minutes. I feel like my stomach is singing to me, thank youuuu for the green stuff! I don’t even know what half of the green things I just ate were, one definitely looked like a nettle and something that goes in flower pots to bulk them out. I eat one healthy thing and I feel like a health guru.
With belly’s full of goodness we head to The Cambridge theatre in Covent Garden for Mums christmas present, Matilda! This is by far my favourite musical! I love the songs, the lyrics are funny and clever, the tunes are catchy and stay in your head for days. The children are so good, I have a severe case of occupation envy. Whenever we go to the theatre I always get so grumpy at my Mum and give her the lecture of how cross I am at her for not pushing me into theatre school. I would LOVE to be on that stage. I don’t know if it’s the teacher in me or I’m just emotionally a little unstable but I feel so proud of those kids up there, they’re so, so good! I would have loved nothing more than to be in their shoes when I was younger. Looks like I’ll be one of those pushy mothers forcing my kids into auditions and stage school in an attempt to live out my lost dream. (Ps. don’t let this happen!)