At last we decided to try out the new shisha pipe. It’s very little, with green glass and a gold patterned pipe.
Courtney was over, and with much struggle we worked out how to get the thing going; burning charcoal over bottle candles and coughing with the surrounding incense fumes. We drank a misty day-old blend of goji berry tea, as well as an iced Peppermint and Chilli tea - although my brother was drinking Tennants Extra Strong out of his plastic Come On England mug (a Poundland relic).
I’d recommend a little session with the hookah pipe just for the sociability of it; it’s good for an evening of talking and tea drinking, and the ‘tobacco’ is very cheap at a couple of pounds. Also, the stuff we used was Tobacco, Nicotine and Tar free - so not too unhealthy either.
Before bed we tried some of Yumchaa’s Notting Hill black tea, very refreshing and fruity so the perfect compliment to our blackcurrent shisha.
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Dinner parties. Sophisticated soirees involving food, conversation and fine wine. Generally, they are not supposed to include alfresco vomiting and discussions of peoples’ sex lives, but unfortunately the host has little power over her guests’ bodily functions. Or their alcohol consumption.
Well, Sunday night was fun. After spending the day cooking up veggie chilli in a big wok with a rainbow of vegetables and sweet potato fries, I was excited to get started. We ate brown rice and chilli and a selection of hummus and even guacamole. Not to mention the coriander garnish. Oh how bourgeois!
Chenille and Connor each brought Rosé wine (of which Connor mostly consumed himself) and I served up some champagne before we ate. Some good discussions were had by candlelight and we reminisced our fortunately bygone school years. Then we retired to the living room with some London Fog tea and talked some more until morning, after walking Ginny home.
Was a lovely little evening, and will definitely do it again. Oh, and by the way – the vomit belonged to Connor, in case you were wondering.
Nervously refraining from going insane by painting my nails a delicate ballet pink and sipping soothing tea. Intending to stay up late, late, late to avoid the inevitable. More specifically, postpone the inevitable. Those little letters will scar me.
Well here I am. Back in my room, with a glint of sunshine peeking through my dirty window, desperate in the haze of an overcast Scottish sky. I’m drinking iced water from an oversized beer mug like it’s the new hipster frappucino and pretending I’m somewhere else. No, I’m not complaining; actually, I rather enjoy it.
Yesterday, a ten hour slog on the motorway with my Mum skilfully at the wheel took us back home after another week in London. We arrived on Wednesday to gleaming English heat and the wonders of the city. Thursday comprised of a little wander around Hounslow, browsing the Indian supermarkets and stalls of gorgeously ripe fruit and veg. I stocked up on proper green tea, incense, tea cups and a curious concoction called ‘Rose spread’. Needless to say I probably won’t eat it – but at least it looks pretty. It felt like a novelty to be somewhere so multicultural; it really makes a place seem more interesting. Not only that, but different – a snapshot of another culture, another world, another life. I liked it.
It may have been a few months ago now – June the 11th – but my birthday was still on the cards. We’d planned a little family party and it took the whole of Friday to arrange it. There was a lot of work involved. We were going to have a magical afternoon of tea and cake and flowers and prettiness and quintessential Englishness. I think with a little bit of sparkle and hard grafting we pulled it off wonderfully. Unfortunately, time stole our ability to create our own cupcakes, so Poundland supplied the cakes and my Mum managed to whip up some lovely butter icing, which I decorated. Additionally we had a selection of teas – all served in dainty mismatched crockery – and sandwiches in an array of flavours ranging from peanut butter to the more traditional cucumber and Philly.
By evening, I’d got everyone started on my famous Vodka punch and the Pimms, and I rather fell in love with the little cocktail umbrellas we’d managed to source.
Not only that, but there was a barbeque – yes, unfortunately meat was served at a veggie’s birthday ‘do – but it was a success and we managed to cook up my Auntie’s enormous courgette. Then there was the unexpected speech from my mother, which left my Nan in tears and me in laughter. And the cake. A monstrously beautiful slab of icing and sponge which we are still getting through.
Overall, it was a lovely afternoon/evening, and even lovelier because I met members of my family I’d never seen before. I don’t think about it often but when I reflect on it now, it is a shame I’ve missed out on seeing a lot of my family – living in Scotland and all – but I suppose it makes it all the more fun when I do see them! I also got some really great presents, including more champagne, a laptop case, a genius student cookbook, jewellery box and money. Money which will go to something nice for my Uni flat, or something that will remind me of the party and the people. I really do miss everyone already, but I’m glad I saw them on such a fine little day!
So that was the gist of my week, and life seems a lot different already. Faster. However, I don’t have much time to dwell on all this; tomorrow morning will bear my exam results. What I hope will be the fruits of my labour – months of slaving over textbooks and denying all social existence had better pay off. Or else I’m going to crawl under my bed with a bottle of Vodka and not emerge for a long time.
Feeling a little excited, a little jittery. Not long now and I will be drifting around with my glass of Pimms and wavy hair. Fairy wings and flower garlands are optional. Twin Atlantic have been added to the lineup now, which is really brilliant, because they are a band I like and genuinely know a good lot of their songs.
Hope I find a lovely tea tent :)
I think I’m already descending into Cheap-Skate Student Syndrome. Last night at the West Kirk I quickly scanned the menu, my eyes searching for low prices, high alcohol content. Incidentally, I was forced to face up to my whisky phobia. Yes, whisky phobia. The only time I have been shamefully smashed up on drink was an incident involving the careless mixing of vodka and whisky. So, anyway, it was this whisky that caught my eye on the menu. Bell’s. The name itself stings bitter on my tongue and sends a shiver up my spine. Nonetheless, the 40% content plus £1.60 price seemed to smooth this problem over a little.
Fire. That’s not quite what you feel when you gulp this stuff down your throat. No, it’s not that satisfying shuddering burn that you get from a bit of Jack Daniels; it’s pure disgust. I swear my stomach crawled into a little defensive ball as soon as I smelled the stuff. Well, it’s safe to say I didn’t finish my drink. Instead, I amused my senses by sampling my friends’ acid bright cocktail pitchers, and submerging my own concoction of Bell’s whisky and lemonade with slices of lemon and ice – in the hope the taste would be diluted a little. That was a bit of a fail. Seemingly I don’t think I’ll be going near the Bell’s again for a while, with its subtle evil, that amber tinge of pure treacly sickness. I will be going back out again soon though, that was fun.
Seeing as we’re a bit short on the dog-sitting front this year, we didn’t have the luxury of a holiday abroad. At first, this was a bit unfortunate and disconcerting, but the prospect of a week in London staying at my Auntie Kaths was a most suitable alternative!
Saturday
On Saturday, we arrived at my Auntie Kath’s in Whitton after staying at my Nans’ in Milton Keynes for a few nights. The car journey involved a lot of stops and starts, but at least it was sunny and warm and now we were here. In London. Strangely enough, the first thing I wanted to do was wash my hair – after several weeks of boiler troubles at home and the terrible water pressure at my Nans’ house, a decent shower came as a considerable luxury. That feat achieved, I sat out in the garden in the sunshine with all the dazzling flowers, the goldfish, a cup of tea and a cheese and piccalilli sandwich. Perfection!
By the evening, I’d donned my summer dress and flower garland and headed out to a pub to meet some more family. An ice cold ginger beer, lime and vodka was just the trick to break me into a relaxing night and it was great seeing the family – especially Lucas, Jude, Gary and Deb who I virtually never get to see, living in Scotland and all.
Sunday
While my Auntie was off having afternoon tea – jealous much! – we made the most of the continually sunny weather and enjoyed a gentle stroll into Twickenham, via several parks and streets lined with gorgeously expensive houses.
I can’t tell you how much I love Willow trees, and for some reason there are hardly ANY in Scotland :(
It was a fairly quiet afternoon, yet despite it being a Sunday, many shops were still open and people were about enjoying some sunshine. We meandered through the network of charity shops and I found a couple of treasures including a lovely gold satin evening dress and a French-girl skinny strap blue floral number originally from Gap. Not bad; in fact a million times better than Maybole charity shop at home where I live!
Afterwards, we popped into M&S Simply Food – an absolute haven and lifesaver this week – and bought a nice picnic, which we ate by the river. We wandered home and stopped at several landmarks, including Mum’s old house, Duckling Cottage. It’s very pretty and I think the constant threat of the cobbled streets being flooded by the river is kind of romantic. Stopping at the Fox pub - where Mum was once a barmaid – we chilled with a drink. I was impressed by the Jack Daniels bottle turned candle-holder sitting on each table. It was dingy and cosy and definitely had an atmosphere. By night-time, we enjoyed a late dinner – OUTSIDE – which felt very Italian and alfresco. Everyone had pizza and garlic bread while I threw together a lovely little salad.
Monday
On Monday we walked to Hampton Court Palace along the river in the blazing heat, a tidy three mile walk complete with beautiful boat photos, a lot of sunscreen and ants. Yes, bloody ants. Never again am I sitting down on grass without checking for the little crawling beasts.
Once we’d arrived, we decided – quite randomly – to stop to rest at a bench in a train station. Classy. After ten minutes of observing hot and distressed commuters spill out of trains, we explored the streets.
We went to two lovely antique shops, rich with eye-catching beauties; a gloriously intact crystal chandelier, old-fashioned furniture and pretty little pearl evening purses. I purchased a pair of gorgeous burgundy brogues for just £10, and in the next shop spent at least an hour browsing the treasure trove of jewellery, china and vintage clothes and magazines.
Starving, we headed back along the cobbled roads and made camp in at a pretty little cafe/tearoom, sprawling ourselves over the slouchy sofas and dumping our plethora of baggage. We ordered ‘lunch’ at about five o’clock, chatting away and taking in the strange throne chair and baskets of vegetables scattered around the shop. Our sandwiches were thick cut, wholemeal and lovely – with fresh ingredients such as artichoke, cucumber, hummus, tomatoes and avocado. I also had a really refreshing concoction of apple, ginger and cucumber which successfully quenched the post-heat thirst I’d built up.
Nourished, we then continued along at about half past five to the actual Palace itself, breathing in the grandeur of its fabulous gardens but not having time to enter them.
The Palace guards allowed us a cheeky ten minute entry free of charge and we snapped photos of the famous clock before having a quick peruse through the gift shop.
Rather exhausted, we caught the bus home and Kath nipped to the pub for a meeting. We busied ourselves - or rather Mum did – with making a spiced couscous salad and then huddling together in front of no other than Friday Night Dinner on my laptop. We were tired, and had a random craving for laugh out loud telly, and all that was on the proper TV was the soaps.
Tuesday
This was to be one of my favourite days, and we managed to cram a lot into it. Firstly, we got the slow train from Whitton and then changed to an underground train, arriving at the Embankment. I flew up the flights of stairs whilst Joe lazily boarded the escalators. I was thoroughly inappropriately dressed for the weather, having clung onto the climate of yesterday I was wearing a mini denim skirt with no tights, a sleeveless blouse and thin crochet cardigan, so I was shivering most of the way as we walked along the Embankment. We wandered around the little stores that have cropped up in the area since our last visit, circa 2006. Thankfully, I’d like to think at least my style has changed a lot since then – I was pictured wearing straight leg jeans, cartoon Converse and a Coca Cola t-shirt last time, with – get this – black and white striped arm warmers. A long way from ‘grunge-chic’, more like mosher fail!
Anyway, we walked to the Tate Modern, and had a little browse around the main galleries. Although some of it was pretty obscure, I found it very inspiring and I will make myself get back into art this summer even if it kills me! We left the Tate and wandered over to The Globe theatre which was packed with school kids on trips. There was a lot of Shakespeare on and I would love to go back there and actually see a play – it looked very impressive. After some more wandering, we found a Pret a Manger and headed to Postman’s Park for a little picnic. Yes, it is the setting for scenes in the film Closer. Along one wall there are tiles which document the heroic actions of ordinary people – young boys who died trying to save their drowning brother and the like. It was very moving, but the park was lovely and populated only by a few business people on their lunchbreak – thankfully it’s hidden away so there were very few tourists.
Our energy replenished, we caught the DLR train to Greenwich, an area where I was considering applying for Uni. We peeped in at developments on the Cutty Sark and had a brief exploration of the market. Afterwards, we headed to Canary Wharf to take in the sharply dressed people and the buildings in all their towering, formidable prowess. Our next adventure was a bit of a juxtaposition; going from the cutting edge modern to the historical world of the Tower of London. Although we didn’t stay there long, having already done the whole tour before, it was nice to soak up the excited tourists-with-cameras-everywhere atmosphere.
Finally, we met up with my godmother Angela in Covent Garden, one of my favourite parts of London. She took us to a little Italian coffee shop for tea and hot chocolate, where we stayed for an hour or so having a good catch-up – much needed considering the last time we stayed with her I had lost my voice and she had sunstroke! By seven o’clock, we were exhausted and having wandered around the buzzing world of Covent Garden, headed for the train home to Whitton.
Wednesday
Wednesday was a day designed with my brother in mind. Having being dragged around shops for three days, it was his turn to do what he wanted. This being a visit to the Wimbledon museum, I was happy with the choice too. We got the bus, which was inevitably packed all day, but no more so than the horribly hectic buses in Ayr.
Before heading to the museum, we stopped at Starbucks for a bit of nourishment; smoothies and blueberry muffins. Then we walked along Southfields, ogling at the fantastically exotic cake shops.
The museum itself was really interesting. There was plenty to see, and I found a lot of it fascinating, despite not being what you might call an avid follower of tennis. There were exhibits of tennis players’ outfits through the ages, and it was astounding to see how women used to wear corsets and skirts that weighed over 2.6 kilos whilst playing in the championships. I think I prefer Serena Williams ‘strawberries and cream’ outfit complete with glittering nail art.
In the evening we went back to the pub to see the family again, which was nice. I brought along my sketchbook and Joe impressed me with a picture of cheese he drew. The perspective was very intriguing. Must have been inspired in the Tate.
Thursday
Thursday was my favourite day, and it was of course our trip to Camden Market. Again, one of the most special places in London. I have quite a few memories here, having come several times when I was younger. Everything seemed bigger and more exciting then, but I wasn’t quite old enough to appreciate all the sensory overload. I just love it all; the atmosphere, the eclectic mix of people, the prettiness of Camden Lock, the stalls, the shopping, the wafting assortment of smells in the food areas.
It’s safe to say I bought many different things, ranging from a beautiful black bowler hat to stacks of incense and gemstone bracelets. We stopped for lunch and Joe and Mum bought huge pizza slices which we ate amidst the smell of Chinese and the swooping scrawny pigeons which kept trying to get scraps of food, bartering with us using their hungry yellow eyes.
We didn’t leave the labyrinth of shops and stalls until about five, by which time we were pretty tired so stopped at a coffee shop – yes, Pret again! – for drinks. After which we walked to Primrose Hill, right to the top. The view of London was astounding and somewhat magical, with the couples and the skyline and the film history. By the time we got home, we were very hungry and tired but it had definitely been a great day. My feet weren’t even that sore!
Friday
Friday was the least eventful of days, but it had a lovely ending. In the morning we drove to Tesco to pick up supplies, and I must say it was an impressively stocked Tesco. If only I had time to explore the ethnic section, but alas, focus was on crisps and alcohol! Afterwards, we headed out to Richmond on the bus, and enjoyed an afternoon of brief shopping. I spent a good few moments drinking in the excitement of the new Mulberry handbag collection in House of Fraser, and bought myself some new floaty trousers from Topshop. We walked home along the river, and it was so, so pleasant. I just can’t grasp how amazing it must be to live there.
In the evening, we go to a pub again, and people have Thai for dinner. We’re sitting outside and it gets cold, but I order a green tea which comes in a beautiful teapot, so I’m happy again. After a few drinks, we walk back to Gary and Deb’s and out come the old family memoir DVDs. They are really interesting and give us an insight into parts of the family I’m not familiar with and I think it was a really lovely way to end a really lovely week!
Right now…New York.
