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The weekend promises to be beautiful. It's sunny outside and all predictions point at a perfect Saturday and Sunday. Tomorrow, we will visit Kew Gardens. Today, we head for the second-hand music stores for some CD shopping. Tourists must be salivating with the thought of being in London.
This is Spring. These are the mornings when you can wander the apartment in your underwear, no curtains pulled shut. These are the days to return to the swimming pool and lay the winter coat down, in tatters. Bliss.
I found a piece of hair in my Kebab last night.
And I went to Paris with Steveo (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idioticpoet). We took a train and arrived in a station situated inside a mountain (I had no idea Paris had a mountain in its centre.) Steveo couldn't remember where exactly his friend lived, but he had her address. We hailed a taxi. The taxi driver began speaking in his mobile phone, making fun of us in french to the person on the other line. Anger. I shouted back at him in french, telling him off for being an asshole to visitors when the french are sooo well treated in Britain. We told the driver to stop and we got out. The driver felt guilty and wanted to drive us for free to our destination. We payed 10 euros and he drove off.
Happy coincidence: Steveo's friend lived in the appartment building we were standing outside. While he went upstairs to fetch her, I found a bathtub and took a bath.
This is Spring. These are the mornings when you can wander the apartment in your underwear, no curtains pulled shut. These are the days to return to the swimming pool and lay the winter coat down, in tatters. Bliss.
I found a piece of hair in my Kebab last night.
And I went to Paris with Steveo (
idioticpoet). We took a train and arrived in a station situated inside a mountain (I had no idea Paris had a mountain in its centre.) Steveo couldn't remember where exactly his friend lived, but he had her address. We hailed a taxi. The taxi driver began speaking in his mobile phone, making fun of us in french to the person on the other line. Anger. I shouted back at him in french, telling him off for being an asshole to visitors when the french are sooo well treated in Britain. We told the driver to stop and we got out. The driver felt guilty and wanted to drive us for free to our destination. We payed 10 euros and he drove off.Happy coincidence: Steveo's friend lived in the appartment building we were standing outside. While he went upstairs to fetch her, I found a bathtub and took a bath.
