Summer comes and goes…

August Christmas Cake

…….and I can’t believe there’s already Christmas food on sale in Selfridges. August flew by in a flurry of visitors, who came and went in shifts, that allowed me to perform a one day change-over in the manner of a top flight hotel.  A top flight hotel that resides in possibly the pissiest street in Barcelona, the smell of which greets you through the gaping gaps in the ancient balcony doors each morning, at the height of humidity season. But at least the fridge was full and there was an endless flow of cava.  Talking of humidity, I wrestled, as I do every year, with a frizzy head and eventually went for the chop to free myself of the burden of four inches of super absorbent dead ends – which resulted in a serious Crystal Tips situation.  Backfire.

On a serious note, my siblings and I narrowly escaped the horrific attack on Las Ramblas, and were holed up in a church in Placa del Pi for more than four hours, while the chaos ensued. To all the emergency services and the staff of Santa Maria del Pi I say – thank you, thank you, thank you. You were absolutely wonderful……. 

I got a new tattoo, which is representative of the fact that I still don’t have a clue what I’m doing or where I’m going.  Because sometimes you just have to have those things indelibly inked upon your person.  You know?  

The Wolesley

After all the visitors had left, I spent a week in Blighty, going to a wedding in Liverpool, visiting family and friends in my small town in North Wales and popping down to London for some quality time with a friend.  A whirlwind of photo expo at the Natural History Museum, lunch at the Wolesley with Ian McShane (well not exactly with, more like in the vicinity of), champers in Selfridges, a touch of nostalgia at my old Uni, and a smash and grab in Diptyque.  

Before all this happened, the man and I nearly broke-up, twice, and then we spent the best part of  five weeks apart, because I’m still hated by seventeen just enough to not be included in any family holiday plans.  It’s been an intense few weeks.  And you’ll be delighted to hear, that I’m still hated – just as much – after more than a month PANK-free.  *sigh*, nothing if not consistent.  One hour in her presence last Friday was enough to send her head spinning and projectile vomiting the likes of which hasn’t been seen since……. well you know; that scene.  I think I heard her hiss when I walked in.

So, the nights closing in and the drop in temperature signalling an imminent Autumn, are very welcome.  It’s my favourite time of year, and feels very much like a time of death and renewal – not to sound too dramatic, natch. 

Let’s see what happens in the months before Christmas arrives – which is a mere one hundred and one days away. 

You’re welcome. 


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