Bossa nova, candles, rooibos, pooface

A rainy Sunday night is the time I’ve decided to catch up with the world – from my side of the table. Not blogging is a common theme, but luckily I’m expressing myself and others in some other mediums too, so I haven’t completely neglected my literacy. Or so I hope.

Setting: rainy, cold, grim, dark London night. In one room there are vanilla candles burning, only one dimmed light on, the sweet scent of vanilla candles and ‘summer rooibos’ mix together, add a spoonful of very expensive French honey (gotten as a present) and the slightest smell of peat. Yes, peat. On low volume, bossa nova is humming gently its warm and sensual notes towards the night light, making it velvety soft and friendly. The slightly husky voice of Joao Gilberto strokes your tired head with reassurance and the second mug of tea is a given.

Who: Myself. Wearing my favourite clothing item stolen from Neal: a dark yellow t-shirt with a mountain goat on it. The candles illuminate my face, looks like it’s covered in poo. It’s supposed to be really good for the skin. Peat mask. Some Finnish sorcery. Will see.


Tomorrow’s another day of what seems to start becoming a habit. Waking up at 6.30am, grabbing a small bit of breakfast, going to the gym at Swiss Cottage, going to Hoxton Square for 10am, working until 7pm. The work is good, it keeps me on my toes and makes me feel like I’m contributing to the world thus justifying my humble existence. Here’s a motivator for you: I don’t get paid for the work I do. All pro bono. Supposedly very good for my career. I don’t know about that, because that one is still under construction, but it feels that whatever bricks needed laying in my head, got sorted. I’ve noticed before that I seem to thrive under pressure, and this is the case now too. Don’t know how much help I actually am to my new work place, but they haven’t kicked me out yet and I’m not planning on leaving. I like it there, wouldn’t mind staying.

I am also waiting for news from Helsinki University, I applied to two masters’ degree programmes there. The Finnish are anal with their bureaucracy, and not in the nice justified way, in a dirty, pointless and sadistic way. I could go on and on about how unpleasant official stuff can be in that country, but I shall refrain from such obscenities in the cleanliness and purity of my blog.

This year I’m not having a Valentine’s Day. I don’t mind. I had an amazing day of roaming around cold and rainy London with my love. It was good. We stuffed our faces with bagel+scrambled egg combo in the morning (lush) and later went to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. Fattening and great. One of the fascinating things about eating any oriental or Eastern food is that it seems to me that the grease or whatever smell of that food remains on my skin (esp face) for about 5 hours after munching away. No, that’s not why I’m doing the face mask thing. But yeah, that stale cheap food grease smell on your clothes and face – lovely. Sign of a fattening and amazing meal. Last year Kiisu and I got dirt cheap (and good) sushi, sat at rainy Trafalgar Square and drank sparkling wine that was way too sweet. Also, a bottle of way too posh and expensive wine (Puilly Fumé, if I remember correctly).

Oh hello, I cut my hair off. I definitely look more lesbian than ever (got a compliment on Friday night from a lady who clearly liked other ladies). I also think I look better than ever, because this hair is very much me and very much something I should have gotten done a long time ago.

The compulsory mugshot. I sometimes wear it in a tiny mohawk too. Or my fringe up, flying to the right. Or however I fall out of the bed.

What gets me out of bed every morning: sheer willpower, the hope for a glorious future, the approaching beach season I most probably won’t have time to enjoy, kittens, gunpowder tea, bossa nova (Stan Getz, Joao Gilberto, Astrud Gilberto etc).
And most of all: love. I love love. And no, this has nothing to do with tomorrow’s overplayed ‘celebration’.

In the meantime, be good and have a listen to my very dear friend Greg’s band, Beneath The Beach The Pavement. Greg is the brain behind the core of this music and he’s teamed up with two equally talented guys. I really hope they make it out there in the cold and cruel world. I am an adamant fan and supporter, definitely going to their gig on Tuesday (partially because it’s so conveniently close to my workplace as well). They also played a gig at Greg’s house. At a house party, Tom Selleck theme party, therefore the ridiculous tashes. Here’s a couple of photos I took at that party:

Maybe I’ll be better and keep up this blogging. I think I do have a fair bit to say, but oh sleep is so much sweeter. And as Saaremaa vodka advertisement said: you’ll always find an excuse [to drink vodka].

I bought my pair of spring shoes for this year. Rain, pretty please with sugar on top, GO AWAY.

Here, listen to BTBTP

As Applicable As The Chemical Symbol For Sodium by beneaththebeach

And about the mystery workplace of mine (and where I do most of my daily writing): REPRISE.

BAI! Love you all. I really do.


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