So this weekend I: co-hosted an ANZAC orifice party with fellow antipodeans (complete with meat raffle), met the lovely M&D for Friday night drinkies in St James, woke up with slight tenderness in hangover region, had hissy fit at Science Guy who had organised mystery date and wouldn’t tell me anything, felt like a dick, drank massive-many-shotted coffee at Camden Lock to banish hangover before braving the crowds of crazy people being crazy, escaped the craziness and wandered along the canal, marvelled at the quiet and the water and the ducks racing, fantasised about living on a canal boat, pictured Rex in a little red ‘kerchief as ships cat, fantasised about living in massive great sod-off mansions waterside by Regents Park, made it to Little Venice, caught the tube to the National Gallery and saw the Picasso exhibition (reclining nudes were dream-like and colourful and oh my he was such a slut!) had ice creams in the little garden behind NG, caught the tube back home, cruised around in our wicked little black mini cooper hire car and eventually ended the evening at a little pub on Strand-on-the-Green. And today we drove to Slough to test out Science Guy’s new route to work, wandered through the lovely village of Eton, had lunch in the sun at a riverside pub, found a copy of Wind in the Willows at a second hand bookstore, drove home, grabbed a picnic and watched the sun go down in a local park while supping champagne.

And this weekend I have also learnt that: sharing responsibility for big decisions does not mean giving away one’s power, it is unfair to hold current boyfriend responsible for previous shitty boyfriend’s failings, and Science Guy does a mean mystery date.

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