Went to Pompon with Alex last night after work for 'a drink' that turned into around 6 (whisky coke's ofcourse), lots of dancing next to Lenny Kravitz, leaving at 2 and grabbing a crêpe/ chips on the way home and then falling into bed with Alex reading to me in French.
I am now in bed at 1.45pm attempting to read 'Cooking in a Bedsitter' by Katherine Whitehorn for one of my translations i have to do for Kings.
It is possibly the most pointless book ive ever read.
Apart from the fact that it consists of 181 pages dedicated only to old-skool 50s housewife dvice on how to cook in, unsurprisingly, a bedsitter (whatever that might be) casually mixed in with just enough derrogative scentences such as "Why brides should be encouraged to produce such abominably dull food i do not know: I can think of few better ways of heading for a speedy divorce", it is also in English.
KINGS, WHY ARE YOU FORCING ME TO READ A DULL, SEXIST, ENGLISH BOOK WHILE I AM IN FRANCE?
This is all made much worse by the fact that i feel extremely sick.
This is most likely from the concoction of the previously mentioned kick-ass dance moves and one too many whisky's but made much MUCH worse by the half a comté cheese i had this morning for breakfast.
Nice one, Daisy.
Nuttin' quite says 'hangover cure' like a big ol' lump o' cheese.
Something tells me i won't be leaving my internet-free (though shockingly, now heated) room too much today.
Piece of advice- Whisky, the shimmy and dairy......not such a sexy combo.
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