I flew to London last week on Tuesday, under my client insistence that I was vital for their negotiation. I was supposed to be back on Wednesday, and ended up spending the whole week there. From here on, there are two versions of the story. You pick.
We went to dinners and events, got into the VIP area at the Ministry of Sound, with Uber smoothly carrying us from one party to the other.
I felt fabulous, champagne flowed, I barely ate over the week and felt trendy and cool all the time.
Or, maybe, I spent 4 days (and a good part of the nights) stuck into a lawyers' office, negotiating strenuously, stuffing my face with whatever food was brought in at any time, barely noticing whether it was day or night.
Xmas stuff was already everywhere, and although Hyde Park WinterWonderlad park (which I adore) wasn't yet opened, Harrods had already amazing stuff on show, and the first Xmas trees were being set up. I loved hanging around Harrods with my lovely white coat with a white fur neck!
I was hoping to grab one coffee from Starbucks while in London - believe it or not, in one week I never had enough spare time to walk into a starbucks and grab a take away cup. How fucked up is that?
Yesterday my client called to thank me again and say how his whole whole team was impressed with my job, so maybe that makes up for the pound I gained. Maybe?
If Husband and I make it through this year, I think we can make it through a lifetime together.
This is a pic of us that was taken last year on this day.
When I look at it, I think it's the way I hope we can head into the future
