Grateful #5

Ok, so continuing the theme of gratitude, this week I'm grateful for:

1. My lovely mummy who still thinks I'm a student with no spare tenners to buy meat. She arrived on Sunday with a whole cool box full of goodies, and for one small second I felt sad at time passing.

2. The return of the lycra, in other words my ankle is almost better, well, holding up, which means I can dance again. Two hours in a white studio on Friday evening is the cheapest therapy in this city.

3. Bakewell tart, vastly underated in my humble opinion. Flaky pastry, hmmmm, pastry.

4. A surprise luncheon visit from my best friend. She brought a tide of gladness and chocolate ganache into my boring Monday. Lol.

hee hee

This was the only thing that made me laugh today.

The 'Second Sleep'

A recent article in the New York Times (my web news of choice), considered how sleeping habits have changed over the last few hundred years. Even though we're sleeping less now (an average of six hours a night), the article suggested that we're actually getting better quality Zzzzzzs. Apparently sleeping in the middle ages was another matter entirely, tempestuous weather, vermin, noise... (sounds like my weekend camping in Derbyshire). It went on to say:

Until the modern age, most households had two distinct intervals of slumber, known as "first" and "second" sleep, bridged by an hour or more of quiet wakefulness. Usually, people would retire between 9 and 10 o'clock only to stir past midnight to smoke a pipe, brew a tub of ale or even converse with a neighbor.

Imagine having two sleeps, waking up in the wee hours to chat, drink tea or make love, I kinda like the idea. Like having two dinners. Sleep is lush, one of my best things to do, so any chance of getting more if it sounds like a great idea to me.

Camping: An underated passtime

There are some things in life that I love way out of proportion to their surface merits. Tea, for example, Thomas Pynchon, San Pelligrino. Camping is one of such pursuits that has me grinning from ear to ear. When I think about it, this love for putting on damp jeans in a small space and trekking half a mile to the loo in the dark doesn't make any logical sense. I like luxury, who doesn't? A feather duvet and a soft, high bed, sharply cut sushi with wasabi in a flower shape, ahhh. Yet something in my psyche is chuffed as anything at the chance to sleep with a rock sticking into my back and the prospect of a stale hot cross bun and lukewarm weak tea for breakfast.

On a train on Monday morning, sleepy and too-warm, I pondered why I love it so much. I realised it's because it's everything ordinary life is not...

Dans Paris

Imagine the most depressing film ever..... go on. No really.... Not one where people die, or children scream, but a horribly poignant take on everyday family life. A father despairing at his grown son sleeping for the fourth day in a role, on voluntary hunger strike. Add bad lines, terrible costume and grey, a lot of grey, and you're half way to imagining 'Dans Paris', a crap French film out this weekend. (Excuse me for the patronisation, but it means 'Inside Paris', not Dan's Paris as a friend joked today.) Please don't go to see it. I'll pay for you to see something else instead, really. A poor friend and I only lasted 45 minutes and it took a glass of Shiraz and two hours of conveyor sushi to make up for it.

I'm back!

The past few weeks have been a bit busy. Instead of playing catch-up I'm gonna write off the last month and just carry on as normal... yay!