back to black
I’ve started judging my weekends by the number of buses I catch. By any measure, this weekend – with two social engagements – was going to be a bit more energetic than our usual routine, but I hadn’t quite prepared myself for just how frenetic it turned out to be.
Saturday, I woke up with a big attack of the bleaks: an overwhelming, leaden inertia. TA knows better than to try to pull me out of the bleakness now. He left me to it and then tried to apply salves only when alone time proved to be ineffective. Chocolate, newspaper, man in a pinny doing chores, snuggles – eventually my ability to be happy resurfaced.
A shopping trip to the evil empire for emergency (cheap) party wear scored a blinder of a bargain dress and I was happy enough to have the energy to do something about my hair, which was red-blonde-brown on the bottom and dark brown on top after a summer madness moment of wanting to be lighter. The raven has now triumphantly returned. Slap was slapped on, new dress donned, hair blow dried and off to Camden we went for a 40th birthday party. Cocktails, wine, dancing, flirting with TA and then a long, long, soaked-to-the-skin wet walk home from Liverpool St (thanks, crappy night bus service).
Sunday’s sleep deprivation was mitigated with the Observer Food Monthly and another helping of dark chocolate before we exposed ourselves to the vagaries of London’s buses, this time with the pupster in tow. Yes – off to the North London Goth House for an afternoon of silly card games and snack food.
Total bus count: 7
Total alcohol intake: respectable
Number of times we ended up in Camden: too many
Money spent: far too much
Return to form: priceless