In 3 days I leave London.
What? Already?
It feels like I just arrived here and not the usual "wow, time goes by so fast" way, but more in the "wow, time goes by bloody, f*&king fast" way.
It's 3 am right now, which shows you I never really got over jetlag. As for all the "constructive" stuff I said I'd get done, well I won't strech your imagination but somehow sitting at home in my socks and PJs seemed so much more appealing than going to dozens of museums and writing full-length screenplays in cafes around Portobello Road.
Speaking of pubs on Portobello Road, my friend Samantha Bain and I ended up at The Winchester/Harlem Soul Food, on the eve before New Year's Eve and it must have been somewhere close to Portebello because we only wandered into 4 BARS before then. Yes, it was one of those nights where you just hope you were at least 1 % as decent as you thought you were on the dance floor, otherwise that would be REALLY embarassing. Passion Fruit Martinis don't seem half as appealing when you're getting down with a French man and losing half of the liquid contents of the glass on his shirt because you ARE Janet Jackson.
Needless to say, unlike Justin Timberlake, I did'nt bring SexyBack and on actual New Year's Eve, I was feeling too sick to go anywhere else other than with my parents to their local French restaurant at 7 'o'clock.
Groovy.
I can't wait to go back to my man and see his new apartment and take another weekend off before the reality of the new year slams me in the face like Naomi Campbell does her assistant.
Bring on 2007, baby!!!
