I was supposed to take a KOOKY PICTURE of myself, took this one by accident and decided that it sums up my mood a lot more. A bit weary (say that like weeeeeery… like i’m a bit tired not weary like i’m weary of a wolf or something) and wearing (the prefix ‘wear’ is getting a lot of airtime innit!) my jazzy new shirt from the city of the state New York. 

So, just like the British public transport system and/or periods, my blog has been somewhat irregular. I’d like to throw it out there that it’s because i’ve been to NYC (the city of NEW YORK, which is A STATE and different to NEW WARK says Gina, dunno whether to believe her or not. Google also says it is so, but Google sometimes lies too. I’m in a glass cage of liars and there’s no doors on this cage. How the F did I get in, in the first place? It’s in my head, that’s how. I could be inside a banana if I thunk hard enough) AND I’VE BEEN just generally running around having a jolly old time SO FUCKING SORRY if you’ve been waiting by the Tumblr phone for me to call.

Last time I spilled out my feelings, I was having a bit of a sea bass mare (English slang for NIGHTMARE. You gotta say it like, ‘ermerged I was having a… *roll eyes* mare…’ but I managed to get back on my feet again which is the main thing.

So NEWYORK was bloody amazing. I want to live there, ideally in a pink castle but if not Manhattan would probs be cool. We met heaps of NICE PEOPLE, went to Times Square, spoke to a police man, then kinda came home I guess. I wanted to stay and hang out with my new friend ‘Ed The Second’.

It’s well sunny in London at the mo- and as of yesterday I got back on the gym band wagon. It was horrible. I went this morning too so i’m writing this at work with wet hair. I know my current status is always the icing on the cake for you guys. You wanna hear more? Fo sure my sweets- so my hair is wet, i’m listening to some smooth jazz, i just ate what is probably a bit too much peanut butter for breakfast (protein innit), a very small mainly grey man just popped his head into the office (MY office? MY sounds like i’m a lot more successful. Will come back to this.) He looks like he’d play the part of a ironically dull character in Emmerdale or something (Emmerdale is a really sick (sick is slang for good) British SOAP OPERA although there’s no soap or opera so bugger knows what’s going on anymore).

I went to NORTHERN IRELAND last weekend to see my dad. He got a dog. It’s called Gus. It gave me a bruise but I still love him. We got a train into Belfast and I wanted Dr. Martens but I looked like a 16 year old emo so I settled for some TopShop knockoffs. I still look pretty fly but not sure if I look like a total legend or just a bit of a legend. I’ll let you know in the next post (no, stop it! I shan’t tell you…. ok fine yes I do feel look a total legend.)

What else? I’ve started eating a boiled egg at lunch time. I think it’s important to put more protein… I can’t finish that sentence. Put it where? Surely I’d be eating the protein? Hmmm i’ll just put some protein on that chair.. and then i’ll put some… on the hat stand. The fuck?

So the egg is a good move. I invested in a jar of capers too- £2.70 was a bit steep but I mostly feel like they’ll last me a while. A bit like fancy hair serum, or a double pack of face wipes.

I’m gonna sign up to imrprov comedy classes. I dunno if this is arrogant or wholesome- My friend Stevie is a real life comedian, and I am a muggle, but I think having a hobby such as this will give me another talking point in conversations with friends family, and co workers. I’m stringing out my friendship circles because in the harsh light of day, my friends and co workers are the same people. Not like there’s two of each it’s just i’m a bit uncool and don’t have many friends. That’s why Gina needs to have so many different sides to her. Some days, I don’t even recognise her and it’s quite exciting. Sometimes I’ll tell Gina about my friend Gina. It’s like that movie Inception minus most things but you get what I’m trying to say.

A few weeks back I got stopped in the street on my way to see my love BRAD GREAVES. I miss him so much and his hair is like a golden river. Anyway, I got stopped and was filmed by this Youtube comedy thing. It was weird.

Mum’s coming this weekend. Probs go for dinner then she’ll give me a tenner and that’ll be that.

Kirsten is visiting soon too. She’s a dietician and recently wrote about poo. Have a look. http://www.thedebrief.co.uk/2015/04/what-your-poo-says-about-you#.VTZ5TqbCBFI

CHECK OUT THE PICCIE OF ME IN NYC. The other two pictures are just hilarious screen grabs that made me chuckle and I thought worth sharing. What have we learnt here Jennifer yellow hat? You’re a lazy typer, a dyslexic typer, Google is not a friend of mine, and you know perfectly well what a banana is OR DO I OR DO I it’s a herby flower plant. NOT A FRUIT. Oh and it’s a seed. It’s everything it shouldn’t be. I doth hereby crown you banana nothing which you are deemed to be, now go and give people indigestion. 

Right lets finish this mother F. Quick fire facts about my life:

Gina and I bought REDHEAD LIGHTS and are gonna start a proper thing.

Hutch got interviewed last night and it was weird.

Gina and I were speaking backwards before bed last night and I laughed so hard a little bit of wee came out.

Learnt that I have 1. No perseverance 2. no design skills. I tried to Jazz up this blog and now it looks horrible.

I like steampunk

Q: Does canned, tuna? 

A: Probably 

JFC (Jesus fucking christ, but trying not to swear too much cos my family read this blog and I’m still not allowed to swear around them. When I was like 7 I called the dog a ‘Bugger’ (in my defence, he was was not co-operating in the game ponies. He didn’t understand the concept of ‘pretend’. Ben, be a horse, no Jenn, I’m a dog and you’ve now permanently damaged my back) My dad told me off and he said it was because I didn’t know what the words meant, which is totally flawed logic because I now know what bugger means and I still can’t use the word, fuck.)

so anyways, JFC, Gina just got sent flowers by her BF Jord, meanwhile I ate a really unsatisfying peach. Jenn and the giant peach.

The past three days of my life have been spent at work. We’ve been here until the wee hours and I’m now in a state of deliriousness. We went on a Wagamuma run for the whole office and accentually fell into Barrio Central cocktail bar. We didn’t order any drinks technically, the drinks were thrown at us and they unfortunately went our out mouths and I might complain. They weren’t even tasty. (See pic 1)

The week before last (not sure if this is chronologically correct, but sod it) me and Gee had our birthday party. I wore a see through rainbow dress. Nice one Crothers. I also passed out NEXT TO my bed at 2am. Again, congrats on the life choices Crothy ya fecking weirdo.

Anyways lots of lovely people came. Here a picture of me with Gee at said party (Pic 2). Then, the next day my mummy came to see me. She made a lemon drizzle cake which was GREAT and I ATE ALL OF IT. We went for lunch at the Red Lion and Sun in Highgate, which does the best food, like ever. I’m serious (oh right Jenn, we thought you were making a joke) but seriously I’ve had a roast dinner at the Groucho (boast) and they ain’t got nothing on this place. If anyone’s reading this, thinking, god i’d love to take Jenn out for dinner, let’s go there. Unless you’re creepy or have already asked to go for dinner with me and I blamed my job for having no time on my hands, because I was lyinggggggg and I just dont wanna go for dinner with you, and how can you have time in your hands it’s not a real thing THIS IS NOW A JOKE IM LYING AGAIN. Confused? me too, let’s boogy.

Then Mum and I went into Camden, on a hot Saturday: BIG MISTAKE DONT DO IT. WE TOTALLY DID. We went for a fancy iced tea where you pick the ‘leaf’ (if you will) you want, (See pic 3) then they ice that shit. I chose one called Notting Hill cos it’s fancy and light and flowery, a bit like me. I also decided I now want to buy a brown leather hat, thoughts? Mum said I looked very pretty in them, therefore they must look good on me. My mum would never lie about whether an outfit looks good or not, just like when she, for my entire childhood, cut fangs out of orange peel at Halloween, and made our capes out of bin bags. MUM I LOVE YOU BUT THAT WAS NOT OK KIDS  HALLOWEEN OUTFITS CAN BE BOUGHT AT A REASONABLE PRICE AT PLACES LIKE POUND-STRETCHER AND SIMILAR OUTLETS AND I RESENT YOU FOR THIS.

The beginning of last week me and Gee sat in Starbucks on Oxford Street and watched the sun come up (see pic 4), whilst prepping for a pitch at work. It was actually quite wonderful, and humbling- like Gee always says it’s so easy to forget where you are sometimes. A few years ago I would have found being in London so exciting, and now it’s nothing, so mornings are one of those things that help you remind yourself of the place you’re in, like looking at someone you take for granted and suddenly feel a rush of gratitude towards them. It feels really gritty, like the most real part of the day. You’re so tired and yet so awake that you’re really conscious of everything. In the afternoon, your body is fully functioning by itself- it’s a very passive time of day, and the night-time you’re on shut down mode (or drunk mode). The morning is when you have to put extra effort into everything, so you’re weirdly feeling it more, which is nice. 

Every morning I have to water two pot plants that are probably dead anyways. They’re Gerry’s and this new morning ritual is terrifying. The stairs to the plants are littered with spiders. Grandad black ones, baby tiny ones, mummy clear legged ones- all awaiting my arrival at 8am. Like some horror movie I throw myself into the darkness of the stairwell (still haven’t figured out which light switch to use, in hindsight it’s probs for the best, so I don’t see my arch enemy). I’m convinced spiders can smell fear. Have you ever had a shower and those clear legged mummy ones hand around all spindly and see through-y, minding their own mummy spider business, then BAM the assholes (sorry family) drop down and kinda float around at face height. Then, looking like a sorta skinny snowman covered in foam of various sorts, I have to stand there negotiating around the mummy spider, who’s clearing just fucking with me. Anyways I watered the plants and that’s the main thing.

At the Groucho last Friday I told Alex Zane all about how I went for a run in Highgate woods. (See pic 5 for pre Groucho Vibes, then pic 6 for hungover emotional D&M with Jonie the golden elephanty) 

The story goes, that Jennifer Yellow hat has decided at last to get a buff bod, so off she popped to the woods. With her favourite Iggy Azelea music, overpriced trainers and brainwashing Nike app, she was ready to go. The day was beautiful and the sun shone like a juicy orange. The clouds were candy floss tufts, dancing around the sky, and the magic woodland (it’s now magic because it will give the story a sense of mystery) hummed with the jolly sounds of bees and fluffy talking mice, scurrying around and going to the shops to buy things in jars (seems an appropriate thing for talking mice to do, especially if we’re talking about a stereotypical magical woodland, which always seems to be set in Victorian England). What was the point? Ah yes, I’m in the woods…

Jennifer Yellow hat was running very fast indeed, because she’s secretly a pro athlete, when suddenly, WHOOSH! out of nowhere, a giant evil beast attacked her. She fell to the ground, helpless, while the beast’s owners stood around and chanted their monstrous spells.

Actually it was a dog with a very middle class family, who tried to wipe up my blood with their middle class tissues. (see pic 7 for full blood image)

Moving on. 

Last Saturday Gee and I sat on our roof eating Being & Jerry’s, (see pic 8) which wasn’t strictly part of our diet plan. I say, ‘was’ not, ‘is’ because I’m pretty sure the diet plan is kaput, gone, finished, in the past, let it go.

Last Wednesday I went to see Gee’s sister’s standup comedy sketch show called, MASSIVE DAD. Check them out- they’re doing Edinburgh Comedy Festival! Yay! I’m not going! Crap!. Before all this merriment, we took some beers to Soho square. (See pic 9)

Also I’ve got some pictures i’ve taken on my runs around London. (pic 10 & 11) I’m getting well into it. Refer to my wet paragraph about ‘mornings’ and ‘feeling it’. Who am I kidding? London stinks and nobody likes mornings.

Seeya. 

Oh quick thought I just thought: I’m sad about not looking like the Oslen twins.

JFC (Jesus fucking christ, but trying not to swear too much cos my family read this blog and I’m still not allowed to swear around them. When I was like 7 I called the dog a ‘Bugger’ (in my defence, he was was not co-operating in the game ponies. He didn’t understand the concept of ‘pretend’. Ben, be a horse, no Jenn, I’m a dog and you’ve now permanently damaged my back) My dad told me off and he said it was because I didn’t know what the words meant, which is totally flawed logic because I now know what bugger means and I still can’t use the word, fuck.)

so anyways, JFC, Gina just got sent flowers by her BF Jord, meanwhile I ate a really unsatisfying peach. Jenn and the giant peach.

The past three days of my life have been spent at work. We’ve been here until the wee hours and I’m now in a state of deliriousness. We went on a Wagamuma run for the whole office and accentually fell into Barrio Central cocktail bar. We didn’t order any drinks technically, the drinks were thrown at us and they unfortunately went our out mouths and I might complain. They weren’t even tasty. (See pic 1)

The week before last (not sure if this is chronologically correct, but sod it) me and Gee had our birthday party. I wore a see through rainbow dress. Nice one Crothers. I also passed out NEXT TO my bed at 2am. Again, congrats on the life choices Crothy ya fecking weirdo.

Anyways lots of lovely people came. Here a picture of me with Gee at said party (Pic 2). Then, the next day my mummy came to see me. She made a lemon drizzle cake which was GREAT and I ATE ALL OF IT. We went for lunch at the Red Lion and Sun in Highgate, which does the best food, like ever. I’m serious (oh right Jenn, we thought you were making a joke) but seriously I’ve had a roast dinner at the Groucho (boast) and they ain’t got nothing on this place. If anyone’s reading this, thinking, god i’d love to take Jenn out for dinner, let’s go there. Unless you’re creepy or have already asked to go for dinner with me and I blamed my job for having no time on my hands, because I was lyinggggggg and I just dont wanna go for dinner with you, and how can you have time in your hands it’s not a real thing THIS IS NOW A JOKE IM LYING AGAIN. Confused? me too, let’s boogy.

Then Mum and I went into Camden, on a hot Saturday: BIG MISTAKE DONT DO IT. WE TOTALLY DID. We went for a fancy iced tea where you pick the ‘leaf’ (if you will) you want, (See pic 3) then they ice that shit. I chose one called Notting Hill cos it’s fancy and light and flowery, a bit like me. I also decided I now want to buy a brown leather hat, thoughts? Mum said I looked very pretty in them, therefore they must look good on me. My mum would never lie about whether an outfit looks good or not, just like when she, for my entire childhood, cut fangs out of orange peel at Halloween, and made our capes out of bin bags. MUM I LOVE YOU BUT THAT WAS NOT OK KIDS  HALLOWEEN OUTFITS CAN BE BOUGHT AT A REASONABLE PRICE AT PLACES LIKE POUND-STRETCHER AND SIMILAR OUTLETS AND I RESENT YOU FOR THIS.

The beginning of last week me and Gee sat in Starbucks on Oxford Street and watched the sun come up (see pic 4), whilst prepping for a pitch at work. It was actually quite wonderful, and humbling- like Gee always says it’s so easy to forget where you are sometimes. A few years ago I would have found being in London so exciting, and now it’s nothing, so mornings are one of those things that help you remind yourself of the place you’re in, like looking at someone you take for granted and suddenly feel a rush of gratitude towards them. It feels really gritty, like the most real part of the day. You’re so tired and yet so awake that you’re really conscious of everything. In the afternoon, your body is fully functioning by itself- it’s a very passive time of day, and the night-time you’re on shut down mode (or drunk mode). The morning is when you have to put extra effort into everything, so you’re weirdly feeling it more, which is nice. 

Every morning I have to water two pot plants that are probably dead anyways. They’re Gerry’s and this new morning ritual is terrifying. The stairs to the plants are littered with spiders. Grandad black ones, baby tiny ones, mummy clear legged ones- all awaiting my arrival at 8am. Like some horror movie I throw myself into the darkness of the stairwell (still haven’t figured out which light switch to use, in hindsight it’s probs for the best, so I don’t see my arch enemy). I’m convinced spiders can smell fear. Have you ever had a shower and those clear legged mummy ones hand around all spindly and see through-y, minding their own mummy spider business, then BAM the assholes (sorry family) drop down and kinda float around at face height. Then, looking like a sorta skinny snowman covered in foam of various sorts, I have to stand there negotiating around the mummy spider, who’s clearing just fucking with me. Anyways I watered the plants and that’s the main thing.

At the Groucho last Friday I told Alex Zane all about how I went for a run in Highgate woods. (See pic 5 for pre Groucho Vibes, then pic 6 for hungover emotional D&M with Jonie the golden elephanty) 

The story goes, that Jennifer Yellow hat has decided at last to get a buff bod, so off she popped to the woods. With her favourite Iggy Azelea music, overpriced trainers and brainwashing Nike app, she was ready to go. The day was beautiful and the sun shone like a juicy orange. The clouds were candy floss tufts, dancing around the sky, and the magic woodland (it’s now magic because it will give the story a sense of mystery) hummed with the jolly sounds of bees and fluffy talking mice, scurrying around and going to the shops to buy things in jars (seems an appropriate thing for talking mice to do, especially if we’re talking about a stereotypical magical woodland, which always seems to be set in Victorian England). What was the point? Ah yes, I’m in the woods…

Jennifer Yellow hat was running very fast indeed, because she’s secretly a pro athlete, when suddenly, WHOOSH! out of nowhere, a giant evil beast attacked her. She fell to the ground, helpless, while the beast’s owners stood around and chanted their monstrous spells.

Actually it was a dog with a very middle class family, who tried to wipe up my blood with their middle class tissues. (see pic 7 for full blood image)

Moving on. 

Last Saturday Gee and I sat on our roof eating Being & Jerry’s, (see pic 8) which wasn’t strictly part of our diet plan. I say, ‘was’ not, ‘is’ because I’m pretty sure the diet plan is kaput, gone, finished, in the past, let it go.

Last Wednesday I went to see Gee’s sister’s standup comedy sketch show called, MASSIVE DAD. Check them out- they’re doing Edinburgh Comedy Festival! Yay! I’m not going! Crap!. Before all this merriment, we took some beers to Soho square. (See pic 9)

Also I’ve got some pictures i’ve taken on my runs around London. (pic 10 & 11) I’m getting well into it. Refer to my wet paragraph about ‘mornings’ and ‘feeling it’. Who am I kidding? London stinks and nobody likes mornings.

Seeya. 

Oh quick thought I just thought: I’m sad about not looking like the Oslen twins.

I took a selfie on my self timer app cam thing developed for the most vainest of people (hi) then thought i’d be extra hilarious on the second photo. Look how down to earth i’m being. Thumbs up. 

Alright Tuesday ya scallywag.

Gotta stop talking to days of the week like they can hear me.

Anyways, yesterday at work we celebrated our boss, Tim’s, birthday. We bought him one of those tiny helicopters and a gigantic cake from The Hummingbird Bakery, which is a delicious edible treat place in Soho. Sam rang me whilst in the bakery to discuss which loving message to put on the cake. We went for ‘Rasberry Nipple’, because the word nipple is naughty. 

Mum bought me an external hard drive for my birthday which I’m gonna set up today because I want to be Holly Willoughby, therefore I need to make a show reel hence forth I bought a camcorder which alludes to the fact that I have a laptop with naff all memory in conjunction with the large filmy files i’ll have to work on the big complicated programmes to edit the filmy files so therefore, in conclusion, to summarise, the hard drive was bought.

Some of that’s not grammatically correct, but i’ll give you all a guess of how many rat’s farts I give. None actually, mainly cos I have no rat farts on offer. I’m not sat here like some witchy apothecary, with unicorn feet, snail shells and rats farts. Although I did hear once you could buy Britney’s fart in a jar. Everyone was aaaallll like ‘errghh how stupid can people be?!’. Listen up: y’all are in debt yet still have iPhones, TVs bigger than the room it goes in, hence putting it at a diagonal angle and Nike town hardly went into the recession, yet people are still fat. Britney’s farts don’t seem like such a dumb investment after all, ya dig. 

The point being, i’m not a lady warlock working on Diagon Alley, bringing home the bacon for my witchy offspring.

Rant over. I’ve never had a rant before. I don’t agree with Facebook rants. I go on Facebook to wonder if I still fancy my ex, stalk people who were popular at school and put up display pictures that actually, after a few filters on ye old Instagram, look nout like me at all. Hurrah for being fake and boo hiss to topical issues of the day.  

I got in especially early to work today to write my blog. That’s all I have to say.

Ohhhh heyyyy I went for a run last night. I bought myself some fancy overpriced Nikes (fyi I know I had a rant about people buying stuff they can’t afford, but never did I say that I didn’t include myself in those people. I am those people.) Anyhoo, I ran 10k. At the time I was all sweating and like look at me goooo and now I’m like ouch i can’t sit down. Buggernuts.

Gee just swaned in from the gym. I say swanned because she’s wearing a floaty top and she’s looking kinda floating and glidey and swan like. Good for you girl friend. Or should I say, Swan friend. That was extremely unfunny. 

A few weeks ago I wrote an email to the Metro, asking for the Good Deed Feed to to bigger. It was after I read about a homeless guy giving someone £2 to get on the bus with. I wrote some wishy washy lovey dovey email about that act of kindness should have a been a headline, not a tiny little piece. It made me smile and think way more about life than what the bloody Kardashians are up to. Anyways, if anyone has read the paper today, the Good Deed Feed to FREAKING HUGE. I’m also thinking about starting up my own newspaper, called The Good Deed Feed. But more info on that laterrrrr…. 

Plan plan plan for the week… well I’m ‘not drinking’ until Wednesday, then on Thurs going for cocktails with one of my favourite cocktail drinking buddies, then on Friday it’s Gee and I’s birthday bash at the Boogaloo. Hip hooray. 

Right peace out mother lickers, I got a meeting to attend, coffee to drink and a calves to stretch. 

I took a selfie on my self timer app cam thing developed for the most vainest of people (hi) then thought i’d be extra hilarious on the second photo. Look how down to earth i’m being. Thumbs up. 

Alright Tuesday ya scallywag.

Gotta stop talking to days of the week like they can hear me.

Anyways, yesterday at work we celebrated our boss, Tim’s, birthday. We bought him one of those tiny helicopters and a gigantic cake from The Hummingbird Bakery, which is a delicious edible treat place in Soho. Sam rang me whilst in the bakery to discuss which loving message to put on the cake. We went for ‘Rasberry Nipple’, because the word nipple is naughty. 

Mum bought me an external hard drive for my birthday which I’m gonna set up today because I want to be Holly Willoughby, therefore I need to make a show reel hence forth I bought a camcorder which alludes to the fact that I have a laptop with naff all memory in conjunction with the large filmy files i’ll have to work on the big complicated programmes to edit the filmy files so therefore, in conclusion, to summarise, the hard drive was bought.

Some of that’s not grammatically correct, but i’ll give you all a guess of how many rat’s farts I give. None actually, mainly cos I have no rat farts on offer. I’m not sat here like some witchy apothecary, with unicorn feet, snail shells and rats farts. Although I did hear once you could buy Britney’s fart in a jar. Everyone was aaaallll like ‘errghh how stupid can people be?!’. Listen up: y’all are in debt yet still have iPhones, TVs bigger than the room it goes in, hence putting it at a diagonal angle and Nike town hardly went into the recession, yet people are still fat. Britney’s farts don’t seem like such a dumb investment after all, ya dig. 

The point being, i’m not a lady warlock working on Diagon Alley, bringing home the bacon for my witchy offspring.

Rant over. I’ve never had a rant before. I don’t agree with Facebook rants. I go on Facebook to wonder if I still fancy my ex, stalk people who were popular at school and put up display pictures that actually, after a few filters on ye old Instagram, look nout like me at all. Hurrah for being fake and boo hiss to topical issues of the day.  

I got in especially early to work today to write my blog. That’s all I have to say.

Ohhhh heyyyy I went for a run last night. I bought myself some fancy overpriced Nikes (fyi I know I had a rant about people buying stuff they can’t afford, but never did I say that I didn’t include myself in those people. I am those people.) Anyhoo, I ran 10k. At the time I was all sweating and like look at me goooo and now I’m like ouch i can’t sit down. Buggernuts.

Gee just swaned in from the gym. I say swanned because she’s wearing a floaty top and she’s looking kinda floating and glidey and swan like. Good for you girl friend. Or should I say, Swan friend. That was extremely unfunny. 

A few weeks ago I wrote an email to the Metro, asking for the Good Deed Feed to to bigger. It was after I read about a homeless guy giving someone £2 to get on the bus with. I wrote some wishy washy lovey dovey email about that act of kindness should have a been a headline, not a tiny little piece. It made me smile and think way more about life than what the bloody Kardashians are up to. Anyways, if anyone has read the paper today, the Good Deed Feed to FREAKING HUGE. I’m also thinking about starting up my own newspaper, called The Good Deed Feed. But more info on that laterrrrr…. 

Plan plan plan for the week… well I’m ‘not drinking’ until Wednesday, then on Thurs going for cocktails with one of my favourite cocktail drinking buddies, then on Friday it’s Gee and I’s birthday bash at the Boogaloo. Hip hooray. 

Right peace out mother lickers, I got a meeting to attend, coffee to drink and a calves to stretch. 

‘Shhhhlerrropppppppah… ergle ergle eagle!’, went the plug. Did you hear it too? Do you understand what i’m on about? It’s the plug, being released after I firmly but the bung in at the end of my last post. Jeese guys, you’re the ones not keeping up. Run faster.

Let the waffle flow! (I imagine you to be some kind of red sea jesus, parting your day either side of this blog post.)

Set the scene (always a good way to bring people in). It’s literally 14.02pm in Soho. I am eating… what is it? I just went downstairs to eat the other half of my sad pot of Tesco soup (‘No Gina, I shan’t succumb to your Mexican Friday Treat Day (why the F does my spell check (on the Notes app might I add) always change ‘Treats to ‘Teats’. I have literally never written anything to do with teats. Maybe it was the TV script for Sudocrem, but even then, I hardly wrote the words, ‘Mother’s teats’. Jesus, anyway. Anyway Jesus.)) and the Cast of, ‘Lime Green’ (I say ‘cast’ because they all play different characters in my head, but they’re really our in-house accounts company.) overheard me talking to my soup (awkward) and offered me their last.. I mean I still can’t think what the right for it is. It’s a Burrito right, but the wrap is like a very thin Naan bread. NAAAAAAAAAN BREAD. They’re freaking delicious anyways and it’s my first one. You can buy them from the Kati (nobs- it’s a Kati Roll, duhh) Roll company on Poland street in Soho. Dey are very deewishus, thank you Lime Green. 

So i’m eating that, writing this, and listening to Rage Against the Machine. Gina is out sorting her phone on Oxford Circus. She keeps Googling things then saying, ‘I’ve been DOOPED (Duped? Dhurped?)’ which apparently means like, ‘been had’ or ‘mugged off’ or ‘scammed’. I hope she hasn’t been dooped. 

Ok so WTF have I been up to I hear all 10 of your cry, kind of.

I miss Sarah.

Last Saturday Gina and I hung out with Jeff. My wonderful Rabbi (capital R after Rabbi?) if you’re still reading this, Jeff and I miss you dearly. You and your poet- master husband! And I will make it my business to have at least one Bellini with you before the year is out.

So we went out with Jeff for a few drinkypoos- We started at a nice little pub next to the Garrick theatre, then moved onto a delicious Greek place called the Koha (I think). Prior to this, Gina and I drank rum. And filmed it. See link below for full coverage of ‘girls night in Jenga’ and other activities. Skipping past a few blurred details, the night ended in a bat mobile at Buckingham Palace. True Story Bro.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWxDsunrnvw

Sunday almost came and went. It came, but then tried to sneaky off so we were only left with Monday, but then as we laid in bed, working on our portfolio, pretending it was morning when it was definitely 7pm, Irish popped in to tell us Conde Nast were downstairs and would we like some flumps and some wine. We had both- free candy and booze bar. Nice nice nice. Look at picky 1 to see Gee flump da pump, the mini meringues, which in my very humble meringue opinion looked very pretty, but didn’t taste of much (Hi Sue (mum) your meringue’s are insanely good please never stop making them bye) and a quick selfie because we’re 22, we’re female, and it’s the 21st century. I very nearly turned into a flump that night. We chatted to an actor in Alabama’s (a new side room/ den in our home. It’s based on the film, True Romance. If you haven’t seen it, you suck and you should readjust your life immediately. Just kidding, but seriously. 

So after a near death with flumps, we took some bruchetta to bed. Monday came about in a very Monday- like fashion. I’m not entirely sure what we did. Meh well.

This week so far has meandered along. Nice and cool. The weather can’t seem to make its bloody mind up. Oh buggernuts- on Monday I met Amy! (Pic no.6, we’re touching her) The lovely Amy! Gina’s sister fo’ life (I’m the wife). We sat in Soho square and drank Bulmers. Then we went to Southbank (via public transport, which never fails to delight ones eyes. Check picture no. 2) and ate Mexican food on the river, after looking for a cashpoint (no exaggeration here) for about 2 HOURS. Come on London, I get the whole ‘no bins on the tube’ thing, it will only encourage people to half arsedly throw their rubbish in. BUT NO CASH POINTS IN SOUTHBANK WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. There are pay as you go bikes, statues of elephants, places for people to urinate IN PUBLIC BUT YOU COULDN’T MAKE A HOLE IN THE WALL. Ffffffflipping flip you, sometimes. I love you London. I’m just stressed and the pressure of getting employed is getting me down. I don’t mean to take it out on you, i know i know, what doesn’t break us will make us stronger. So i walked to feeeerrrrking Embankment for £5. On a happier note: Gina’s back from phone land. Hi. 

Pictures no. 3, 4 and 5 are some I took along the way to Embankment. Kudos of the highest to the guy who has stuck a golden camel to his postwar 1950s London terrace. Maybe it’s the same guy with FIRE COMING OUT OF HIS TRUMPET TROMBONE BRASS THING (pic no.7) Holy mackerel slap my side and call me Tracy, you my friend are a genius/ terrifying never approach me in any narrow dark crossing especially not a bridge because we both would not fit.

Picture 8 is of me and Gee near the fire music man. Everytime (herro red squiggle line, everytime is not a word? Damn I’m a bad writer. I’ll blame it on dyslexia) i’m out in London in public I think i’m a Spice Girl. (This is most of the time.)

I’ve been to the gym three times this week. I’m going to Australia in two weeks. Although it’s nearly Winter there so god knows why I’m bothering, unless I plan to take a skinny dip in Sydney Harbour. I’m very excited though. The people greeting me at the airport are people I haven’t seen in over two years, and they’re my best friends in the whole world (Gee, once again, doesn’t constitute as a friend. Buying each other ‘best friend’ bracelets would seem a little bit like saying to her, ‘You’re cool and we really get along, let’s hang out soon.’ We share a bed, a desk, clothes, makeup, business, ideas, and potentially genes (if not genes then in the future maybe children))

Oh talking of SHARING THINGS. 

@goonandcroth (Instagram)

@goonandcroth (Twitter)

@goonandcroth (vine)

That’s odd I thought we’d be at least a little bit inventive with our names on social media. Nope.

I’m watching her now. She’s swinging a sweety necklace back and forth and trying to catch them in her mouth whilst saying to herself, ‘Stop eating, Gina’. Oh deary bee.

I’ve started eating tinned Salmon as opposed to Tinned tuna. It’s like 30p more expensive but 100% better. Although Gee gets freaked out by the spinal cord still attached. Writing down now, I kinda see her point.

Picture no. 9 is Starksy our cat pretending to be in a musical: ‘FAME! I’m gonna liveeee for everrrrr’. hahahahah silly cat you cannot sing, and you have fleas. Ask them kindly to stop nibbling my toes. 

‘Shhhhlerrropppppppah… ergle ergle eagle!’, went the plug. Did you hear it too? Do you understand what i’m on about? It’s the plug, being released after I firmly but the bung in at the end of my last post. Jeese guys, you’re the ones not keeping up. Run faster.

Let the waffle flow! (I imagine you to be some kind of red sea jesus, parting your day either side of this blog post.)

Set the scene (always a good way to bring people in). It’s literally 14.02pm in Soho. I am eating… what is it? I just went downstairs to eat the other half of my sad pot of Tesco soup (‘No Gina, I shan’t succumb to your Mexican Friday Treat Day (why the F does my spell check (on the Notes app might I add) always change ‘Treats to ‘Teats’. I have literally never written anything to do with teats. Maybe it was the TV script for Sudocrem, but even then, I hardly wrote the words, ‘Mother’s teats’. Jesus, anyway. Anyway Jesus.)) and the Cast of, ‘Lime Green’ (I say ‘cast’ because they all play different characters in my head, but they’re really our in-house accounts company.) overheard me talking to my soup (awkward) and offered me their last.. I mean I still can’t think what the right for it is. It’s a Burrito right, but the wrap is like a very thin Naan bread. NAAAAAAAAAN BREAD. They’re freaking delicious anyways and it’s my first one. You can buy them from the Kati (nobs- it’s a Kati Roll, duhh) Roll company on Poland street in Soho. Dey are very deewishus, thank you Lime Green. 

So i’m eating that, writing this, and listening to Rage Against the Machine. Gina is out sorting her phone on Oxford Circus. She keeps Googling things then saying, ‘I’ve been DOOPED (Duped? Dhurped?)’ which apparently means like, ‘been had’ or ‘mugged off’ or ‘scammed’. I hope she hasn’t been dooped. 

Ok so WTF have I been up to I hear all 10 of your cry, kind of.

I miss Sarah.

Last Saturday Gina and I hung out with Jeff. My wonderful Rabbi (capital R after Rabbi?) if you’re still reading this, Jeff and I miss you dearly. You and your poet- master husband! And I will make it my business to have at least one Bellini with you before the year is out.

So we went out with Jeff for a few drinkypoos- We started at a nice little pub next to the Garrick theatre, then moved onto a delicious Greek place called the Koha (I think). Prior to this, Gina and I drank rum. And filmed it. See link below for full coverage of ‘girls night in Jenga’ and other activities. Skipping past a few blurred details, the night ended in a bat mobile at Buckingham Palace. True Story Bro.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWxDsunrnvw

Sunday almost came and went. It came, but then tried to sneaky off so we were only left with Monday, but then as we laid in bed, working on our portfolio, pretending it was morning when it was definitely 7pm, Irish popped in to tell us Conde Nast were downstairs and would we like some flumps and some wine. We had both- free candy and booze bar. Nice nice nice. Look at picky 1 to see Gee flump da pump, the mini meringues, which in my very humble meringue opinion looked very pretty, but didn’t taste of much (Hi Sue (mum) your meringue’s are insanely good please never stop making them bye) and a quick selfie because we’re 22, we’re female, and it’s the 21st century. I very nearly turned into a flump that night. We chatted to an actor in Alabama’s (a new side room/ den in our home. It’s based on the film, True Romance. If you haven’t seen it, you suck and you should readjust your life immediately. Just kidding, but seriously. 

So after a near death with flumps, we took some bruchetta to bed. Monday came about in a very Monday- like fashion. I’m not entirely sure what we did. Meh well.

This week so far has meandered along. Nice and cool. The weather can’t seem to make its bloody mind up. Oh buggernuts- on Monday I met Amy! (Pic no.6, we’re touching her) The lovely Amy! Gina’s sister fo’ life (I’m the wife). We sat in Soho square and drank Bulmers. Then we went to Southbank (via public transport, which never fails to delight ones eyes. Check picture no. 2) and ate Mexican food on the river, after looking for a cashpoint (no exaggeration here) for about 2 HOURS. Come on London, I get the whole ‘no bins on the tube’ thing, it will only encourage people to half arsedly throw their rubbish in. BUT NO CASH POINTS IN SOUTHBANK WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. There are pay as you go bikes, statues of elephants, places for people to urinate IN PUBLIC BUT YOU COULDN’T MAKE A HOLE IN THE WALL. Ffffffflipping flip you, sometimes. I love you London. I’m just stressed and the pressure of getting employed is getting me down. I don’t mean to take it out on you, i know i know, what doesn’t break us will make us stronger. So i walked to feeeerrrrking Embankment for £5. On a happier note: Gina’s back from phone land. Hi. 

Pictures no. 3, 4 and 5 are some I took along the way to Embankment. Kudos of the highest to the guy who has stuck a golden camel to his postwar 1950s London terrace. Maybe it’s the same guy with FIRE COMING OUT OF HIS TRUMPET TROMBONE BRASS THING (pic no.7) Holy mackerel slap my side and call me Tracy, you my friend are a genius/ terrifying never approach me in any narrow dark crossing especially not a bridge because we both would not fit.

Picture 8 is of me and Gee near the fire music man. Everytime (herro red squiggle line, everytime is not a word? Damn I’m a bad writer. I’ll blame it on dyslexia) i’m out in London in public I think i’m a Spice Girl. (This is most of the time.)

I’ve been to the gym three times this week. I’m going to Australia in two weeks. Although it’s nearly Winter there so god knows why I’m bothering, unless I plan to take a skinny dip in Sydney Harbour. I’m very excited though. The people greeting me at the airport are people I haven’t seen in over two years, and they’re my best friends in the whole world (Gee, once again, doesn’t constitute as a friend. Buying each other ‘best friend’ bracelets would seem a little bit like saying to her, ‘You’re cool and we really get along, let’s hang out soon.’ We share a bed, a desk, clothes, makeup, business, ideas, and potentially genes (if not genes then in the future maybe children))

Oh talking of SHARING THINGS. 

@goonandcroth (Instagram)

@goonandcroth (Twitter)

@goonandcroth (vine)

That’s odd I thought we’d be at least a little bit inventive with our names on social media. Nope.

I’m watching her now. She’s swinging a sweety necklace back and forth and trying to catch them in her mouth whilst saying to herself, ‘Stop eating, Gina’. Oh deary bee.

I’ve started eating tinned Salmon as opposed to Tinned tuna. It’s like 30p more expensive but 100% better. Although Gee gets freaked out by the spinal cord still attached. Writing down now, I kinda see her point.

Picture no. 9 is Starksy our cat pretending to be in a musical: ‘FAME! I’m gonna liveeee for everrrrr’. hahahahah silly cat you cannot sing, and you have fleas. Ask them kindly to stop nibbling my toes. 

Just gonna bash through this one to get my mind back on the blog track…

Mum graduated, so saw Granny, Grandad, Kirsten, Trev and obvs Mother duck (bit awks if we all went to all that trouble and the bloody woman wasn’t there!) She looked great and we dutifully managed to embarrass her before, during and after the ceremony. 

The night before, I met them all at their hotel in Old Street, and my grandparents being the savvy drinkers that they are, smuggled some very expensive wine into their hotel room, which we guzzled. Prior to this, I had some dinner with Mum, Trev and Kirsten in their hotel a few blocks down the road.

The ceremony was at the Barbican. I was supposed to meet Granny and Grandad at their hotel to help with the wheelchair, but in true Croth fashion, I was running late so Kirsten came to the rescue. I got chatting to some guy who works at the Barbican and he told me all about a Jean Paul Gaultier exhibition (this is like 30% lies. I’m not sure it was Gaultier, but someone like him. Anyways, we spoke, and nothing came of it.)

Look at picture 1 and 2 for me by myself wearing my summer dress as a top (fashion bloggers, watch this space (literally don’t- I have nothing)) Picture 2 is me and Gran Of Croth (that’s right, it happening- my grandmother has made a blog too.)

T’was a lovely day in East London and after we bought expressive cheese (hahaha… rereading my blog for spell errors, and that one is staying. “expressive cheese”) sardines (they were NOT expressive cheese sardines. What the hell am I on about?) from the Barbican cafe, we all went out separate ways to get back to life. Kirsten and I went to Euston (where she got her bus) and I toddled on home to Highgate, back to my beloved Gee and Boogaloo… is the version of events that should have happened…

So lets go back to Euston… a guy from California said, ‘Hey man, I love your green hair’ (of course you do, I look great) *conversion on public transport in London ensues, leading to stares and the exchange of phone numbers*. He told me his name was Jime, ‘Like Lime with J’… He invites me to his bar in Angel for shots, so I go along, realise he is a weirdo, and end up having a night out with his friend and all the bar staff who were clocking off, which then resulted in a big roast dinner on Brick Lane the next day. All in all, a great weekend with loved ones. Loved ones being a massive group of people i’ll probably never see again. Oh and I bought them all a creme egg (y) 

‘But Jenn, why did you not treat yourself?!’

‘I did, voice in my head, I bought a card and a t shirt and a corduroy shirt’ 

‘Oh.’

Let us move along the timeline of my life. Hello Monday. 

SOOOO a new lady at work called, Faye organised a Minimart Soho Masquerade bar crawl. I was put on a team with my managing director, one of the interns and Nikki. It was a good day/ evening had by all, but my god we got drunk. It all kinda started about 2pm. Also awkwardly bumped into an ex, then started talking about him loudly, then turned around to see his brother. This my friends, is the kinda thing that would only happen to me. I was wearing a smelly grey t-shirt, a gypsy skirt and trainers. Not my best ‘groovy chic’ ensemble to date. 

Look at picture 4! That’s me, my boss and Nikki. Tomfoolery was had, shots were drunk, items were stolen. It’s all i’m saying. Picture 5 is evidence of having Noddy (Rory) in our midst. 

Thennnnn the rest of the week happened. This is why I should blog more- bugger knows what I got up to. 

Oh christ we saw Rory (Noddy to anyone from Budapest) and Geniveve! They joined our band of merry Minimarters, then we all danced to Britney.

Then that weekend, Gee and I were on the shoot for LGFB’s new campaign- Remember I chat about that super secret out of hours project, well it was for that. The studio was this amazing victorian high school in East London and you should all follow our moonlighting agency- @7after6 on Twittah! Pictureeeee 6 is a sneaky deaky shot of Gina and I being professional on the shoot, making decisions like, ‘shall we have another croissant?’…

So that’s pretty much how for now, currently eating my lunch time cous cous. Last night Gina, Gerry and I all ate Chipsticks and watched Keeping up with the Kardashians. We’re going to start our radio show soon too. Oh and I’m writing comedy sketches. The first one is based loosely on my 3 hour car boot sesh on Sunday. 

Here’s to the freaking Monday (an adaptation of Rhi Rhi’s classic lyrics, ‘here’s to the freakennn weekeeend’) and the rest of the week, tallyho!

I look like rambo in picture 3, and Gina looks happy. I bought that headscarf at the oddly positioned, ‘beyond Retro’ shop around the corner.

Oh I bummed in (do you like how I use this phrase? I think I do. Sounds kinda throwaway, but makes me laugh- bumming around, bummed off, etc) that last photo- contrary to the picture before it, here is Gee accepting the challenge of fitting into a metal box at work. No prizes were given, I think gee was just trying to express herself, a bit like the sardines I ate at the Barbican. 

Just gonna bash through this one to get my mind back on the blog track…

Mum graduated, so saw Granny, Grandad, Kirsten, Trev and obvs Mother duck (bit awks if we all went to all that trouble and the bloody woman wasn’t there!) She looked great and we dutifully managed to embarrass her before, during and after the ceremony. 

The night before, I met them all at their hotel in Old Street, and my grandparents being the savvy drinkers that they are, smuggled some very expensive wine into their hotel room, which we guzzled. Prior to this, I had some dinner with Mum, Trev and Kirsten in their hotel a few blocks down the road.

The ceremony was at the Barbican. I was supposed to meet Granny and Grandad at their hotel to help with the wheelchair, but in true Croth fashion, I was running late so Kirsten came to the rescue. I got chatting to some guy who works at the Barbican and he told me all about a Jean Paul Gaultier exhibition (this is like 30% lies. I’m not sure it was Gaultier, but someone like him. Anyways, we spoke, and nothing came of it.)

Look at picture 1 and 2 for me by myself wearing my summer dress as a top (fashion bloggers, watch this space (literally don’t- I have nothing)) Picture 2 is me and Gran Of Croth (that’s right, it happening- my grandmother has made a blog too.)

T’was a lovely day in East London and after we bought expressive cheese (hahaha… rereading my blog for spell errors, and that one is staying. “expressive cheese”) sardines (they were NOT expressive cheese sardines. What the hell am I on about?) from the Barbican cafe, we all went out separate ways to get back to life. Kirsten and I went to Euston (where she got her bus) and I toddled on home to Highgate, back to my beloved Gee and Boogaloo… is the version of events that should have happened…

So lets go back to Euston… a guy from California said, ‘Hey man, I love your green hair’ (of course you do, I look great) *conversion on public transport in London ensues, leading to stares and the exchange of phone numbers*. He told me his name was Jime, ‘Like Lime with J’… He invites me to his bar in Angel for shots, so I go along, realise he is a weirdo, and end up having a night out with his friend and all the bar staff who were clocking off, which then resulted in a big roast dinner on Brick Lane the next day. All in all, a great weekend with loved ones. Loved ones being a massive group of people i’ll probably never see again. Oh and I bought them all a creme egg (y) 

‘But Jenn, why did you not treat yourself?!’

‘I did, voice in my head, I bought a card and a t shirt and a corduroy shirt’ 

‘Oh.’

Let us move along the timeline of my life. Hello Monday. 

SOOOO a new lady at work called, Faye organised a Minimart Soho Masquerade bar crawl. I was put on a team with my managing director, one of the interns and Nikki. It was a good day/ evening had by all, but my god we got drunk. It all kinda started about 2pm. Also awkwardly bumped into an ex, then started talking about him loudly, then turned around to see his brother. This my friends, is the kinda thing that would only happen to me. I was wearing a smelly grey t-shirt, a gypsy skirt and trainers. Not my best ‘groovy chic’ ensemble to date. 

Look at picture 4! That’s me, my boss and Nikki. Tomfoolery was had, shots were drunk, items were stolen. It’s all i’m saying. Picture 5 is evidence of having Noddy (Rory) in our midst. 

Thennnnn the rest of the week happened. This is why I should blog more- bugger knows what I got up to. 

Oh christ we saw Rory (Noddy to anyone from Budapest) and Geniveve! They joined our band of merry Minimarters, then we all danced to Britney.

Then that weekend, Gee and I were on the shoot for LGFB’s new campaign- Remember I chat about that super secret out of hours project, well it was for that. The studio was this amazing victorian high school in East London and you should all follow our moonlighting agency- @7after6 on Twittah! Pictureeeee 6 is a sneaky deaky shot of Gina and I being professional on the shoot, making decisions like, ‘shall we have another croissant?’…

So that’s pretty much how for now, currently eating my lunch time cous cous. Last night Gina, Gerry and I all ate Chipsticks and watched Keeping up with the Kardashians. We’re going to start our radio show soon too. Oh and I’m writing comedy sketches. The first one is based loosely on my 3 hour car boot sesh on Sunday. 

Here’s to the freaking Monday (an adaptation of Rhi Rhi’s classic lyrics, ‘here’s to the freakennn weekeeend’) and the rest of the week, tallyho!

I look like rambo in picture 3, and Gina looks happy. I bought that headscarf at the oddly positioned, ‘beyond Retro’ shop around the corner.

Oh I bummed in (do you like how I use this phrase? I think I do. Sounds kinda throwaway, but makes me laugh- bumming around, bummed off, etc) that last photo- contrary to the picture before it, here is Gee accepting the challenge of fitting into a metal box at work. No prizes were given, I think gee was just trying to express herself, a bit like the sardines I ate at the Barbican. 

This week has been really really good for me. My script has been chosen to be used for an advert at work, and because I’m highly professional, I cannot give away specifics, but be sure that as soon as it’s on TV, specifics will be flooding every social media platform I have any kind of presence on so yes essentially just a really arrogant status and a witty Tweet- ‘witty’ being the questionable adjective here.

So I went to the gym today. I know, how impressive do I wanna be? Although after my half hour run, one of the gym instructors saw me leave and yelled (across the feckin gym) ‘is that all you’re doing today?!’ to which I consulted my plethora of incredibly self demeaning, yet humorous responses and tried to say, ‘oh yes- I didn’t want to show everyone else up.’ Now because i’m extremely unfit and had just ran solidly for half an hour, my body was in shock, so whilst trying not to pass out/ eat the sweat on my top lip I responded as thus, ‘yeah- i’m just showing up.’ This does not make sense whatsoever. 

Oh christ talking of my gym nightmares, I thought i’d struck gold when I bought my new jazzy trainers, leggings etc for a fraction of the normal price in, you guessed it, Sports Direct. (foreigners- Sports Direct is a huuuuge cheap sports department store, but where people buy branded stuff so they can pretend they stock up all the time in the actual Nike store.) So I get to the counter like, ‘Hey lady, I know what you’re thinking… wow look at this girl obviously just nipping out to buy exercise gear on her lunch break cos she’s so ‘get up and go’, when I spot some sports bottles behind the counter, for a very reasonable £1.99, so I casually say as though I’m rolling in money, ‘oh and i’ll have one of those bottles too.’ Turns out, the ‘Sports Direct’ neon logo, emblazoned across the damn thing, IS NOT A STICKER. I’m not a gym snob by any means, but I look like a total moron swigging my Sports Direct bottle coupled with the fact I had NO IDEA how to use any of the machines. So spot the bloody newbie. Also, I bought pink because I’m a girl and it’s what we do, so there really is no hiding the fact that I am a slightly flabby fish out of water.

The pictures in today’s blog post are a jolly selection (only ever the finest archived material for you guys). Okay, the first two are screen shots of some total legends’ IP addresses. There’s a lot of these going around in London. Props to the Game of Thrones reference, holla at cha sista. The next picture is of me, Skyping my beloved (betrothed) Noodles. I had some very edgy (contrary to popular belief) ripped jeans on, which I decided made my knees look like a sneaky bald man, so I drew him a face because, I am coooool as a cucumber. Next picture is of me doing what I do best- drilling new holes in my new (old charity shop) belt with, obviously, a broken pen and the handle of a brolly. Now that’s what I call thinking outside the box. I have scouts to thank for my ‘adapt and overcome’ motto in my life. Lastly is one of the best pictures I have taken of myself, ever, ever like ever. So I was gonna go for the full selfie, and could already imagine what I was going to write about the epic jumper my grandmother had knitted me, but as I opened good old iPhoto, the beams of light coming into my room made it look like I was being taken to another dimension, so because I’m a weirdo with no friends in London please someone help me I decided to reenact the scene in which I had been locked away for 1,000 years and the vortex had come to collect me. 

Right I can’t remember any other worthy details of my week so let’s consult the note taking device on my snazzy phone…

Hahaha… I read one, ‘Spaghetti, tinned tuna, Broccoli.’ then thought, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? It’s a shopping list, bugger. I haven’t written any notes, that’s odd. 

This week will be exciting for sure, and to round it off on Sunday, Gina and I have a surprise day together that she has organised as one of my Christmas presents, yay.

Thoughts to end on… What the hell are capers- how are they grown? Excited to use new toothpaste, weirdly excited to be working out (LA here I come) and I wanna move Henry the hoover from my room tonight as he’s freaking me out, just slightly. Oh and I will ABSOLUTELY, my dear Rabbi poetry club leader write a poem but I really must do some preparation work for tomorrow and I think I’ve rambled on enough.