Uncomfortable outfit day

*** DISCLAIMER – This is a highly unglamorous post… but sometimes you need to keep it real!

I’ve posted here in the past about the “bad outfit day”, when as soon as you leave the house you know you hate what you are wearing…

Today I am having a slightly different day, the “uncomfortable outfit day”.

It happens when you actually look ok, but then:

- Your shoes are killing your feet, even though you are wearing them with socks;
- Your jeans are quite low, and so is your underwear, so the cars and other cyclists following you on your way to work have a nice little surprise view;

- Your bangle hurt your arm when you type;
- And it looked cold in the morning, but it’s actually quite muggy so you have…(oh god, am I ready to confess this?)... a tinny underarm pizza. More like a mini-pizza, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but you know it’s there.

So, there, I said it. I might look ok, but ok I ain’t feeling. Uncomfortable outfit day, please be over soon!

Of love and pronunciation

So the opening of the Shoreditch Festival was great, it didn't rain, the music was nice and I bought a great pair of earrings.

All was great until I got home and realized there had been a huge misunderstanding.

xxx

In the middle of the day I went in search of some festival food and came back all happy with a sausage sandwich I found at the POLISH stall.

ME - "Look guys, I got a POLISH meat sandwich. I am going back to my roots" (as I am ¼ Polish)

HUSBAND - "Really, you are eating that? Ok, whatever rocks your boat."

I thought it was a slightly weird response from him, since as far as I know he doesn't have anything against the Polish or any other nationalities.

Later on, at home, as we are talking about the great day we had, and I am saying how one of the highlights was my incredibly yummy sandwich, the husband says:

HUSBAND - "I actually cannot believe you ate PONY meat".

ME - "Excuse me? PONY as in cute little horses that every young girl dreams of having? (not me though, as I have always been scared of horses, even the cute little ones)

HUSBAND – “Yes, that’s what you ate, no?”

ME (HORRIFIED) – “Noooo, you crazy man. POLISH meat, not PONY meat”.

xxx

So there you have it…my man thinks I am capable of not only eating pony meat, but also bragging about it. Love is weird. And, it seems, my pronunciation is even weirder.



(Fancy some pony on the grill?)

In colour

I am the queen of muted but it hasn't always been like this. Before my love affair with black, white, grey and cream, I had a very colourful phase. In fact, just before coming to London, a whopping seven years ago, I was planning to dye my hair blue. And then bright pink. I was also a clubber and sometimes wore glitter make-up, but let's not dig that deep!

Sometimes I miss the more day-glo version of myself. Maybe that's why I recently bought neon-pink jelly shoes (that and the fact they were 1 pound!).

So it was very inspiring to stumble across Gala's blog, with her bright hair colours, beautiful tattoos, cute style and happy outtake on life. On days like today, when I feel a little blue (no pun intended, believe me!), it's nice to dive into someone else's pink world.

(Gala and her many colours...)

Cooooooooooooooooo

Regular readers and friends in general will know that I am not the biggest fan of pigeons, what with the hideous feathery things invading my balcony, having unprotected sex behind the chair and putting eggs on our flower bed (true stories and they happened twice, my friends, twice!).

But I couldn’t help but cooing (hihihi) when I saw the programme for the Shoreditch Festival, which happens every summer in our crazy, pigeon-filled but ultimately lovely neighbourhood.

The festival is actually pretty cool and last year we even watched a dog show! How Charlotte and Elizabeth Taylor!

(Click here for the full cuteness)

The kindness of strangers

Normally, nothing really fun comes out of my local grocery shop (besides yummy croissants for 35p). But yesterday I stopped by to get some plums and the cashier had half an arm full of beautiful black & silver Indian bracelets.

“Lovely bracelets”, I said.

“Do you want some?” she replied.

I ended up not having the courage to take some of her bracelets as they looked so nice together, but thought that her offering me was one of the sweetest things ever!

Afterwards, I remembered seeing a shop in Whitechapel, a traditional Bangladeshi area in east London, selling these kinds of bangles from every single colour under the sun, and for very little prices. I don’t remember the name of the shop, but there are several ones on Mile End Road, if anyone is interested. I am definitely going there soon so I can get an arm full of bracelets just so that I can start offering them to strangers!