Month: August 2009

We’re at Station 43 aka Audley End House learning about the SOE.

Observation of the day: small town girls are scary!

My kid calmly retorts “but you are one.”

Too true.

I retrieved my kid from his stateside sojourn, and now we’re back in Cambridge making frijoles de la olla, mole poblano, and tortillas from scratch.

Finding the constituent ingredients was, of course, harrowing.

I had a lovely dinner with my agent, during which I studiously avoided questions like “what are you working on?”

Later in the week I was thwarted by capitalism yet again, and retaliated by purchasing another Comme des Garcons bag.

Now I’m reading vintage house porn during the waning hours of this holiday….

London, it has been fun. Lets do this again soon.

Lolling around London Fields I observed intrepid young entrepreneurs selling homemade cocktails to a thirsty public, and other people wandering around chatting with strangers.

Someone approached and asked “Can I have your number?”

“No.”

“Name?”

“Bee.”

“For beautiful?”

“No – for the insect that stings.”

Back in the land of responsibility, today I learned that it is impossible to order school uniforms unless you know the relevant “house colour.”

Though the school provides no guidelines as to what that phrase means in relation to the age or grade of my kid, and there is no sorting hat to decide.

Earlier in the week I spent the whole night in a Soho members-only club. Last night I got trapped in the mosh pit at the antifolk festival. Both evenings ended on the highly entertaining nightbus. I love it; I make so many new …. friends.

I’m supposed to go out again shortly but really, am I too tired for another London all nighter? Or perhaps just too … lazy?

If I do go out, I have to decide what to wear and I’m not used to thinking about that. Life is so treacherous!

Countdown: ten days til real life resumes!

Cover blown. One of the regular customers at my favorite cafe asked “so, you are a journalist?”

Oh no!

Lucky dress is out on the town, frazzled authoress contained within. Ever tried to meet a deadline while on a train, with only an iPhone and index finger at your disposal?

Not recommended.

I’m on an extended working vacation in London but had to take a break from wanton hedonism to go back to Cambridge to pick up my prescription refills.

You know, those drugs that I must take to remain “alive.” The stuff I get for freebecause I live in a country with rational health policies.

Home for a day and the city attempts to charm me. Oh, Cambridge, what is the phrase – too little, too late? Though I do adore the river.

I am both amazed and extremely thankful I never knew about Dover Street Market before today.

I just bought a Comme des Garcons bag – and am reeling in profligate shock.

Presumably I will recover.

While I forgot to book my own tickets, I did manage to organize a visit home for one of my recalcitrant teenagers.

In preparation for the flight to the states I allowed him to purchase gum for the first time ever.

The experience required a surprising level of detailed instruction.