Stories from the City
My day of culture (best intentions) turned into a day of mooching, shopping, eating and drinking. Met Rhi and her friend Julia for lunch in Notting Hill, wandered around Portobello road, then met Thomas, Phil and Helen for a drink late afternoon. Got myself very lost through my premature confidence, dodgy sense of direction and belief that the time had come to cut the umbilical cord to my trusty A-Z. Have now realised the error of my ways, and understand that there is a long way to go until I can go out in the big bad city and trust to pure instinct alone.
Love being in the city at weekends – there's so much potential and possibility. It reminds me of those lazy, slightly hungover Sundays in Taipei having brunch in Grandma Nittis with the other EFL teachers, followed by a wander in the park or a spot of shopping in Shi-da or in the flower/jade market. I only have to listen to PJ Harvey's Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea and I feel myself transported back there – the curious soundtrack to my last few months living in Taiwan.
Now I have that Sunday night feeling, even though I'm quite looking forward to tomorrow's task (writing a 3000 word speech for a conference). It's funny the way that I got myself into a complete state over my essays at Warwick and fretted about them for weeks before they were due, but the thought of throwing together a ministerial speech in a day doesn't really daunt me. Well not till 9am tomorrow anyway. Rise and shine