This weekend is a bank holiday weekend. I’m not sure why they give us May Day off here. I assume it has more to do with the traditional Roman Festival than the power to the workingman reasons, but I would like to think it is a mixture of both. Singing The Internationale around the May pole maybe?

My plan was to relax Friday night. Maybe go to the pub for a pint but no more than that because after two nights of drinking, I felt pickled. Saturday was yoga in the morning then a walk along the river then maybe a movie in the evening. Sunday was Kew Gardens, Monday is David’s birthday lunch at David and Amanda’s house in Kent.

Then life happened while I was making plans.

Friday after lunch, I felt a tickle in my throat. Full on cold. Blah. So. . . no yoga and no Kew today. I’m hoping that tomorrow I will be ok for David’s birthday.

I did make a nice soup yesterday however. I took Barbara Kafka’s recipe for garlic broth and mixed it with some ingredients from Rick Bayless’ Mexican chicken soup. Even Stuart had some. I was well chuffed.

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If you are in Los Angeles this weekend, I strongly recommend that you go to one of my favourite things to do- The LA Times Festival of Books at UCLA.

Next year I am planning a vacation back to America since I have now missed it two years in a row.

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They sent us to a Circus Training School for a team building event yesterday and it was a lot of fun although today my legs are killing me from the acrobatic balancing part.

I was rather disappointed that we didn’t get to go on the trapeze, but given the number of people that we had and the opportunity for serious injury and likely death, I’m not surprised that they skipped that portion of the circus training.

The walking on a wire thing was really frustrating and it gives you an enormous appreciation for performers that do it.

I vacillated between having fun and feeling like an elephanty cowish blob when we did the pyramid thingy.

They were taking pictures of all of us and I am rather terrified of what photographic evidence there is of the day. . .

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Jen (Preston) dragged me to my first concert in London tonight. . .Wolfmother. They are a mix of Led Zeppelin meets the Doors meets AC/DC meets White Stripes meets. . . I don’t know what - but it Wolfmother.

They are a lot of fun. Although I was rather frightened by the liberal use of the devils horns symbol from the masses. If they had yanked out a lighter at a slow song, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

So my evening was:

Drinks

Vietnamese food

Venue drinks

Concert

Drinks

Tube with people all more tipsy than we were. (We were rather concerned about one Bankerish fellow listening to his iPod that he would tune out and miss his stop but he pulled it together. He was wearing a black suit jacket, purple tie with pink swiggles and a pink gingham shirt. I have to say that I respect the London Mans ability to wear pink. I think it suits them. For whatever homophobic reason, you don’t see men wear pink in the Western states of the US.)

Kebab

Water

Blogging.

Bed.

Life is good. So what I got audited. I only owe a little less than 2K. I’m on a payment plan. . . It’s all good dude. Rock on. *

*Please forgive my use of the phrase “rock on” as well as the word “dude”. It was brought on by retro head banging music and two double vodkas on the rocks with a twist. I promise it won’t happen again.

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Spying a woman on the tube wearing a monkey vomit hounds tooth jacket, flouncy skirt, fish net stockings, leather ankle scunchy Madonna circa 1982 boots and instead of thinking. . .

“If she only knew how ridiculous those stockings are and how fat those boots make her look.”

You think, “Maybe I should buy fishnet stockings and ballet slipper flats.”

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When you get a letter from the Internal Revenue Service, you do not want to get a big envelope. A big envelope means that you are being audited. Being audited is bad.

Today I got a big envelope.

For 2003.

There is a benefit to being across the world in that I do not have to go to the meeting. I don’t have my receipts anymore so it’s a big case of “Okay. . . tell me what I owe.”

Sigh.

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Window shopping online at Banana Republic. A number of the skirts include the blurb, “Now in size Double-Zero”.

So there is some skinny anorexic bitch out there that a size ZERO is too big for her boney ass??

So
not
fair.

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The Northern Line was dire this morning. I was running late to start, couldn’t push my way onto three trains and when I finally did, I was stuffed between two men. If you’re going to be that close to someone, you really ought to use a condom.

At Oval I managed to squeeze over by the door against the flexi glass. A woman got on and she proceeded to take off her jacket. Normally this action would be fairly innocuous but when you are jammed in like we were, it is a grave offence indeed.

I felt a, “You have got to be kidding me look” on my face. I noticed another woman watching the Jacket Remover and we locked eyes and we shared a silent, “What a dumb cow” moment.

I felt very English.

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First paycheck in six months.

I feel giddy.

I am getting my hair cut.

I am eating sushi.

I may need to buy a pair of shoes.

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Who is St. George you ask? He is the patron Saint of England. The myth about him is that he slayed a dragon and saved a Princess, but that probably didn’t happen. . .What with there being no such thing as dragons and such.

Also Happy Birthday Mr. Shakespeare!

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