Sunday, 16:45. (Yeah but, it’s actually 15:45, like, in real time.) My day has so far consisted of the paper, a lengthy catch up with my good friend, who goes by the name of BBC-iplayer, and several mini-eggs too many. I have been left with both a strong desire to watch The Wizard of Oz and with every intention of launching the rest of the mini-eggs off the balcony (this will never happen, fat chance). Did I mention that the duck-egg blue ones are my favourite? I have now.
In other (admittedly more weather-related) news, it’s mega windy outside. Like super ruins-your-hair and chills-you-to-the-bone windy. And it’s Monday tomorrow! Boooo. Way to rain on my mini-eggs. Rather than hiding myself indoors, away from the wind and the imminence of yet another Monday morning, oh how I wish I could be relaxing my wind-chilled bones upon a uniform wicker chair in some casual Parisian cafe, chattering away en Francais between sips of strong coffee, and wearing canary yellow in an expectant ode to summertime…
