…and there’s been far more nudity than predicted. I think it’s purely that we can walk around naked, that WE DO. Phil will walk out of the shower each morning and give his bits a shake in my direction. It’s become a morning greeting. I enjoy it.
*I’m trying out a Phil-Bronnie celeb-moniker much to Phil’s distaste. But, it really doesn’t have a ring to it.
We have just gone and signed a 12 month lease on a flat of our own in the newly sought after, yuppie-village of Balham, south London. We are both over the moon and full of excitement to have our own space in this up and coming spot filled with restaurants, Farmer’s Markets and cafes.
I’m a planner. I fucking love it. I blame my job. I draw up spreadsheets of costs, days, nights being stayed, and what we will see and do. The lot. I love being organised. I love lists. Scraping your pen across something you’ve just completed is a huge accomplishment in my world. Even if the item stated “drink water”. Small wins.
This weekend the girls (Eileen and Toni) and I decided to spoil ourselves for Eileen’s dirty thirty birthday. We booked ourselves into the Macdonald Berystede Hotel & Spa in beautiful Berkshire. I flippin’ love a pamper session and promptly booked myself a full body massage and a top notch pedicure. Because, hey, I work hard. Well, I work. I mean, I turn up.
In the end it felt like we spent the weekend at Fawlty Towers…