is it a good sign or a bad sign if you end the weekend more tired than when you started it?

nah, it’s all good. Dinner and drinks Friday night at the Satay Bar in brixton, which lacks anything even remotely resembling ambiance, but makes up for it with a killer happy hour (pitchers of cocktails only £10!) and bountiful quantities of cheap yummy food. who needs candles and tablecloths when you can get drunk in a glorified cafeteria for a tenner?

Saturday started off pretty sucky with a queasy blinding migraine (no, it was *Not* a hangover!), and a reneged invite for a home-cooked meal, but improved vastly with a good indian dinner and a party at the telegraph (also in brixton). dancing, drinking, and partying, but had to leave somewhat abruptly… however, safe to say not a single person noticed the depature. crashed in tooting, and spent the better part of sunday morning struggling to overcome the powerful gravity force keeping me warm and cosy in bed, until I was finally lured out by the prospect of a hearty restorative fry-up, which did me a world of good.

it goes without saying the rest of sunday was pretty much a wash… although i did start researching (well daydreaming about, really) the trip to greece. that counts as productive, right?

the trees are very confused – took this a few days ago:

mondays – i wanna shoot the whole day down.

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