Postcards from Santorini

Tuesday 2nd August

Hairy drive to the hotel (taxi for Samanth a Graham - new Greek name?) along lots of bendy roads. Warm welcome and super cute beachy decor; lots of driftwood art. Stumbled our way along in the pitch black to find a supermarket. Poolside picnic and a foot dip before bed.

Wednesday 3rd August

Body clocks not yet adjusted to Santorini time, waking up was a struggle. Only 18 rooms in our hotel so breakfast buffet was very civilised and we had our pick of shady tables on the pool terrace to eat. Rest of the day spent between lounger, pool and lilo basking and admiring the surrounding scenery. Dinner along the beach; Greek salad, Gyros and Baklava accompanied by smoothie cocktails and odd Grecian remakes of classical pieces.

Thursday 4th August

Spent the day on volcanic sands (although strictly not sand but tiny little smooth pebbles which are a dream compared to sand), taking the occasional dip in crystal clear sea. Enjoyed an elevenses cocktail (another of the smoothie variety; feels less naughty) and later lunch on the beach; 'spaghetti with butter'. Embraced a 'Greek Night' for the evening involving a huge tasting platter of traditional dishes, wine by the litre, plate smashing and lots of 'opa!'

Friday 5th August

Took a boat trip around some of the islands of Santorini. First stop was the dormant volcano at the centre of them all. Glad to have spent so much time on the crosstrainer lately as we huffed and puffed our way to the top for a spectacular view and sulphuric smells. Stopped for a while at some thermal springs and then again at a traditional village where we spent most of our time stuck on the boat (of course everyone else managed to get off in time) while 'a ferry making huge waves' passed us by. Had a 'quiet night in' with some nibbly bits and wine from Carrefour. After smashing the bottle of red (literally), the rest of the night went quite smoothly...

Saturday 6th August

Began the day by the pool again. Partook in a lunch of leftover meat and cheese from the night before in bread stolen from breakfast. Made our way to the capital of Santorini, Fira (no, not the same as Thira) for the afternoon and evening. Wandered up and down precarious paths on the cliff edge, stopped a while for cocktails with a view to recover from the shock and heat, enjoyed a glorious sunset from a wall with a view of a traditional blue dome, bell tower and the sea before returning to the cliff path to dine at a table that began with no candles and ended up with three to keep us warm from the sea breeze.

Sunday 7th August

Struck down by prickly heat of epic, swollen proportions (apparently my elbows (and I quote) resemble sock puppets or a granny without her false teeth) so I was a good girl and had a shady beach day. After an incredibly sleepless night of forced starfishing to avoid contact with anything, had a good snooze on my lounger. First experience of a club sandwich (apparently a holiday favourite) for lunch was washed down with an incredibly potent Margarita (all in the name of pain-killing). Food settled, we had a long swim and splash about in the sea before I was finally able to emerge from my shady nook to enjoy some evening sun. Found a lovely restaurant offering a complimentary fish soup starter and watermelon dessert for dinner. Had haloumi andk zucchini balls followed (for me, anyway) by a feta stuffed burger too. A pretty setting and delicious food was a choice well made for spending our final evening in Perissa.

Monday 8th August

Another morning begun by the pool before we ventured into Oia to spend our final evening. Wandering the cobbled streets we were even hotter than in Fira and I had to buy some Greek sandals when my own Primark specials snapped along the way. Sat for a while to cool down with icy cold drinks before. Energy regained we trekked down the many steps leading to the bay below, narrowly avoiding donkey poop (and the donkeys themselves as they clattered up and down), for a view of the town in the setting sun. Having enjoyed the sunset for a final time we found a little jazz bar for more Santorini wine and pittas.

Tuesday 9th August

The hotel were kind enough to let us keep our room until the taxi transfer picked us up for an evening flight so we spent our final day saying goodbye to black sand and sea that isn't murky brown. Volcanic beaches are officially my favourite - enjoying all the perks of a beach without getting sand in all the wrong places is pure bliss. General impressions of Santorini? I've loved it! The climate, the scenery, the people, the wine, the food (oh, the food)! Would love to come back one day. Think we left just enough places undiscovered to warrant a return visit.

Amsterdam

Now I haven't fully committed to writing this post so I'm not entirely sure how it's going to go... whenever I go away I always go bearing my notebook and usually put a little time aside each day to write. Apparently Amsterdam doesn't lend itself particularly well to such behaviour, and instead this time was spent napping. As a result, I have only a list of events to go by and as two weeks have now passed (although I can hardly believe it; madness!) my memory is one hundred percent hazy. Let's see what I can do!

So I've been wanting to visit Amsterdam for some time. Every time I see photos I'm always intrigued, and actually I even remember way back when to a friend visiting in primary school and bringing clogs home and how desperately I wanted my own pair (perhaps something I should have kept to myself?)... Anyway, the overall view is that I'm very glad I've been, but I won't be rushing back. 'Been there, done that, bought 'traditional' souvenirs from the Christmas Shop'!?

We flew from Southend Airport and it was blissful! Such a simple process, so quiet, so calm, so unlike an airport. We were so relaxed we sat down to have breakfast... only to be called for an early boarding!? Totally unheard of, surely? The flight was the shortest flight I have ever experienced. Literally, no sooner had the seatbelt signs switched off and the tea trolley had made its way to the front two rows of passengers, it was back on again and we were making our descent. Absolutely blew my mind.

From the easiest airport experience to the quickest flight, we then arrived at Central Station, Amsterdam. Purchased a 3-day travel card (with attached map; London needs those!!) and made our way to the trams to reach our hotel. We somehow managed to figure the map out pretty easily to decipher where we were getting off. Our only concern was how we'd then find the exact location... until we a-spied our hotel from the tram!? We were there a good two hours before check-in but we hoped that they'd at least let us drop our bags. But they did more than that! Our room was ready! Too much good fortune?

Once we'd freshened up and settled in, it was time to find breakfast (which having been rushed on to the plane we had not yet had)! We were a short walk from a street lined with takeaway places which we'd identified as having potential for hangover curing but we figured there must be somewhere a little more civilised in the meantime. Having wandered around in the most ENORMOUS circle, we found ourselves in Burger King, back on afore mentioned street. Well, at least we knew what we were getting?

After what should really be called brunch by this point, we set off for another wander, this time with a better sense of direction (and a map). The hotel conceirge had circled various points of interest for us and with only three days, we decided we needed to cover as much ground as possible!

First impressions, good!

One place we'd been told to see was the flower market and with Amsterdam's tulip reputation, we felt it was probably something we should see. Turned out that just like everything else, it was right at the end of the road, a five minute walk from our hotel! It wasn't at all what I was expecting as obviously I associate 'flower market' with the likes of Columbia Road. Much more like a glorified garden centre, it was nevertheless pretty impressive with bulbs in clogs as far as the eye could see! Around we wandered until something that struck us with a sense of both amazement and disgust caught our attention. Something I have only ever encountered in tales of other people's travels, there it was. A Christmas shop. In May. Well of course we had to go in...

Out we skipped, me still singing carols (it's amazing what a bit of Christmas can do for your mood, no matter what the time of year) and on we ventured to our next destination.

Turns out canals make navigation incredibly difficult. As someone who prides themselves on a good (nay, excellent!) sense of direction, I could not get my bearings! Anyway, before we knew it we'd stumbled into a rather sleepy Redlight District where we tried to ascertain where life would be when the sun went down and counted Bulldog Cafés.

As we came back on ourselves to the Flower Market, we decided it was time to hop on a tram and go further afield. So we headed for the museum area (or 'Museumplein'). One thing we wanted to tick off was a photo with the 'I amsterdam' sign but we had the feeling it was a little way out of the city and would require a minor mission to find it. So when we stumbled upon it we were pleasantly surprised (although not so by the expected hoards of people photobombing)! Suddenly a sign advertising a sculpture trail caught my eye and in a bid to move away from the crowds, we followed it!...

Claiming that the walk was 10 minutes, at 20 we began to worry we'd missed it. However our feet led us on, so we followed. If nothing else, it was really interesting to see a very different side to Amsterdam. Away from the terraced towers lining the canals, the suburbs were rather Americanised with unusual but relatively uniform architecture; big cars, big doors, big houses! I will say too that Amsterdam (in the centre as well) is incredibly green!

I liked the windows...

We wandered around at least half of the sculptures (there were 70 in total) before heading again towards a tram to take us back to civilisation.

I rather began to enjoy the habit of napping each evening. Still trying to find some way of incorporating it into my working life... a nap and a hot hot shower after a day of endless walking put us in good stead for the evening's entertainment and another tick on the list, the Ice Bar.

I think we all worried the Ice Bar had the potential to be a let down, but we were definitely pleasantly surprised! The warmer bar beforehand was very cosy indeed and offered tasty free cocktails (well, included in our ticket). I think they probably kept it so warm that the ice would then not be such a shock to the system! As we sat there we were surrounded by people who obviously knew exactly what to expect, dressed in hats, big coats and gloves; the anticipation was real. A bell rang, a short film was shown to get us into the spirit of it all and then it was our turn. Adorned in enormous coats, we made our way into a tiny icy room where we drank from glasses made of ice, got accosted by a lairy Northern 'lass', witnessed men stripping (not included in the ticket) and where the hen took a shot from a ram's horn. Normal.

Having succumbed to a nap before our Ice Bar experience, when we got out we needed something to eat! Having had a few beverages by this point it was totally acceptable to grace the street of junk food with our presence. We found pizza. Tasty pizza, too. And for only £5 (for a whole one)!

Pizza consumed, we headed back to the hotel to change into something a little less comfortable before losing ourselves in what was possibly a gay bar where we were searched for 'lady weapons' by a man who then led us to lots of free drinks and a pretty great selection of music!

Day 2 brought with it beautiful sunshine! Before it disappeared again we decided to book tickets for a canal tour and a visit to the House of Bols in the afternoon and then Redlight tickets for the evening. Our canal tour wasn't until after lunch and we'd actually managed to get up and out pretty early considering the night before, so after a hearty breakfast of Wagamamas, we did some more wandering to pass the time.

The canal tour was the most relaxing event of our few days. I would quite happily return to Amsterdam if I could spend the entire time on the canals. On a small boat we were taking through tiny connecting tunnels past enormous homes with enormous windows, canal 'crossroads' and a multi-storey bikepark containing I think the 'captain' said ten thousand bikes!?

After our tour of the canals, we headed again to the Museum area. This time we actually ventured into a museum; the House of Bols. Possibly the most entertaining museum I've ever visited (I'm not usually a fan of museums unless they have specific exhibitions on), we got to sniff, taste and drink various ingredients then the cocktails themselves (which were yum by the way! I had a Golden Aztek which was chocolately and mm and then had a shot of Amore Parfait (or something along those lines) which tasted like a mix between roses and violet). Also had a go at bartending... I won't give up the day job.

Wanting to make the most of the sunshine, we walked back to our hotel from the station, armed with fries smothered in 'sautèsaus' from Mannequin Pis; SO yum!

This is where I stopped writing things down so excuse me if two weeks later my memory fails me...

Fuelled by what claimed to be the best fries in Amsterdam (to be fair they were pretty darn good and just what we needed at the time!) and refreshed by another nap, we were ready to venture into the Redlight District. I don't really think it's possible to describe the surreality that ensued. All I can say is that it just did not feel real. Like Barbies in lit-up boxes. Or wandering through a film set or a human zoo. It was odd. And our visit to the Museum of Prostitution did not make us feel better about it all. Anyway, I'm glad to have been. It was certainly an experience!

Our final day was fortunately a full day but we were still sad to be heading home (especially me, as at this point my shower at home was still out of action after more than 6 weeks and the hotel shower was hot)!

After some souvenir shopping, armed with the map we set off to find what appeared to be the only windmill in Amsterdam; when in Holland... it was on the very edge of said map and we had horrible premonitions that it would be tiny and a disappointment, but when we arrived we were completely overwhelmed despite the fact that it was residential and we couldn't go inside. When one is used to itsy bitsy windmills in Norfolk, this one was pretty impressive!

Via the longest stretch of market I have ever seen, we headed for a tram to take us back to civilisation. Once at the Central Station we decided that sitting in the sunshine in the museum area would be a nice way to spend the remainder of our day. Got a bit confused by trams this time (blame the two-day hangover) and ended up in the wrong direction but it was pretty interesting to see yet another part of the city that we wouldn't have otherwise seen!

The rest of our time was wiled away in glorious sunshine with ice cream, crisps and wedding talk.

Sad to leave but by this time also looking forward to bed, the 'weekend' (that was actually Mon-Weds but felt like a weekend) came to an end. So glad to have finally been to Amsterdam after wanting to visit for so long! We had so much fun and it is such a beautiful place!

Hens in a clog. As you do!

Now, onto the wedding. So. Much. Excitement!

A Chap Olympiad, Agnes Obel, and air hockey

Before beginning to write about last weekend, I have first made a page-and-a-half-long list of everything I did... and I wonder why my posts become so long and rambly! Maybe, just maybe, if I want to write about what I do, I need to start doing less.

I am sitting in the airport (in the quiet area with loungers!? Score.) waiting for my flight to Cyprus for the wedding, and realised that as I will no doubt have lots to write about that, I'd better get this one written before it catches up on me! And as I have the perfect opportunity...

Saturday was really quite surreal. The afternoon was spent at the eagerly anticipated Chap Olympiad, a celebration of the sporting ineptitude of English gentlemen. Sporting events included cucumber sandwich discuss and some sort of briefcase relay, and prizes were awarded to those who maintained the perfect trouser crease or an immaculately well-tamed moustache as opposed to those who actually got at all competitive!

The day began at my flat, where I got over-excited and provided china plates, elegant glasses and cucumber sandwiches (to eat) accompanied by Pimms served in a teapot to get us in the mood! A little carried away with food consumption (sandwiches on tiger bread, Sensations popcorn, baked camembert, grilled sweet chilli haloumi and plum tomatoes - YUM), we did not actually manage to start getting ourselves ready until early afternoon (bearing in mind the event began at noon)...

All hair, makeup and hats at the ready (until the moment we stepped outside when all three attempted a Great Escape), we headed off! A great reaction followed us down the street and onto the Tube, where we sat feeling hot, but pretty (hats come in awfully handy for fanning) as we made our way to where the games had already begun.

Slightly unsure of where to go from the Underground, we were soon given a rather large hint in the form of the not so dulcet tones of jazz music as to where we should be. Hidden in private gardens in Bedford Square, we were welcomed by waist-coats, hats of all varieties, old uniform (ooft), petticoats, canes, fans, white gloves and furs galore, many accompanied by proper Fortnum and Mason picnic hampers, and most sitting on traditional picnic blankets or under gazebos, sipping cups of tea and cocktails with a slice of cake; the most surreal but wonderful sight! Of course we made a bee-line for the bar where (still fanning away with our headgear) we ordered more Pimms to keep us going and some more adventurous/lethal cocktails.

Whilst stood in the queue for the bar (in front of a man in a yellow tweed suit? Amazing.) we were treated to the sights of what can only be described as a 'hench man with an unbelievably gruff voice bending metal on (or maybe with?) his crotch'... fortunately the rest of the afternoon took a more civilised turn for the most part! It was spent sipping our cocktails, observing strange goings on in the arena, basking in British weather at its best, engaging in conversation that was probably as far removed from ladylike as it gets (also apparently at an inappropriate volume, as hats do cover ones ears... oops), and admiring (or, quite often, making scathing comments about) the 'general splendour'.

Once the games were over and winners announced, we noticed the construction of the dancefloor taking place and got very excited! As soon as drinks were finished, we took to the stage for a lot of hip swinging, foot flicking, arm flailing and jazz handing, much to the admiration of two ex-naval officers (amongst others, I'm sure), who decided we'd be the ideal candidates to show them how it's done. Oh dear.

With perfect timing (and not before a highly romantic/anti-climatic marriage proposal was made), the rain came. So we took our cue to leave, waved goodbye to the Chap Olympiad until next year and set off for Somerset House.

I've wanted to go to a gig at the venue for a long time, and I think Agnes Obel in such stonking (yep, I just used the word stonking) weather made it a pretty perfect experience!

Having gone straight from an event with strict 30's dresscode to an open-air, standing gig, to say I felt a little over-dressed would be a huge understatement. As we joined the queue, I wished for a big sign explaining my situation, as there was an awful lot of staring going on (made even worse by a near-miss with a familiar face from home territory which is always something I strive to avoid having made my break for freedom in London). Had I not been wearing the hat all day, I might have chosen to tone down the outfit with its removal, but feared that the hat-hair would cause even more stares, and for all the wrong reasons!

Assured that I would blend right in once we were lost amongst the crowd, we ventured in. Having found a good spot and then stood in it for all of 5 minutes, we were suddenly accosted by an overly enthusiastic pair of American Express representatives (not that we realised this for the majority of our encounter). 'Have you taken your selfie yet'? There we stood thinking to ourselves 'do we really look like the sort of people who take selfies'? Knowing looks of disapproval were passed between us as we shared this thought. 'You don't have to take it yourselves', came the response when we gave a simultaneous 'no'! Next thing you know, the guy's taking our photo with my phone, I've uploaded it to Twitter with some hashtag I don't know the meaning of, we've got VIP access to an indoor bar with free champagne and a £20 ticketmaster giftcard, and said photo then appears on the big screens either side of the stage so everyone can see what a fantastic time we're having (or how awkward we look when sprung upon to have our photo taken)... I think it was worth it?

Turns out the indoor bar, at least, served dual purpose, as we did not think much to the support act, Laura Doggett, whose singing voice left us rather dumbfounded given her stature and the sound of her speaking, which I will describe as 'contrasting', so as not to sound too highly critical. To be fair, I do still intend to give her the benefit of the doubt and give her recorded stuff a listen, as maybe it was the whole live 'experience' that was too much for me... so we hid inside with champagne and olives until the storm had passed, then emerged once again in anticipation for Agnes Obel.

A far cry from the vocals that preceded her, Agnes Obel makes me melt a little. I found myself announcing 'this one's my favourite' at almost every song, before resigning myself to the fact that I really just like them all!

She had two cellists and one violinist on stage with her and her piano. All three providing haunting vocal harmonies, and unusual effects drifted from their instruments, each one more powerful and spine-tingling as they worked their way through the set. Agnes spoke sweetly to the audience between each song, offering the small stories behind her music, and expressing her enamour at the venue and us, the audience.

Following a truly magical performance, we were carried out from Somerset House in the tide of the crowd and across Waterloo Bridge to the Southbank, still hypnotised in some way, and not really wanting to just go home where it would all be over. So we had a wander, with the desired effect being almost like wanting food to settle, only in a musical sense instead (or, you know, some more romantic simile; I'm excellent with words)...

The craving for pork scratchings took over for the third time that day, and with Wahaca in sight serving not only pork scratchings, but also Magaritas, our feet knew where to take us. Catastrophically, upon our arrival we were informed they were no longer serving, so we found ourselves on a mission doomed to fail which took us beyond the London Eye. Here, we did not locate pork scratchings, but instead happened upon a well-hidden, enormous amusement arcade and AIR HOCKEY... which we played, of course.

NB please bear in mind that this whole time we were still donning Chap Olympiad costume. I have no doubt it was quite the sight to behold!

Saturday was just the most surreal day! Nevertheless, if Saturdays were frequently spent in such a way, I would be more than happy. Sunday took a more real turn, with salt beef sandwiches (ENORMOUS and incredibly tasty) from Borough Market, drinks in The Shard, a visit to Barbican for the Digital Revolution, Polo Bar for tea to relieve chronic indigestion/the hangover and Liverpool St station for Burger King. Real as it may have been, it was still equally as pleasant, and probably requires a post all of its own. However, as at this point, I am perched in a low-growing tree on a beach in Cyrprus, frantically finishing this post off in order to begin writing about my adventure here, I just leave you with that succint list and safe in the knowledge that Sunday was the perfect way to round off a fun-filled, frivolous weekend!

The month of May

As May was spent catching up on April's holiday extravaganza, I thought it best to condense some of the best bits. Admittedly, I was half expecting to be able to do this at the end of May itself before it could be rendered totally redundant, but it seems I have slowed down my writing pace, so instead I bring this to you now, in June. It may well have been easier to just pretend May didn't even happen, but I couldn't have people thinking I spent an entire month indoors, particularly not when there were two bank holiday weekends and a half term holiday to account for!

The first bank holiday weekend kick-started the month, and, as always, I managed to pack plenty in! The Friday night saw myself and my school colleagues venturing out of familiar territory and to Angel, where we danced on a male-dominated, illuminated dance floor. Not sure I'll be doing that again, no one needs to see my face that clearly...

On the Saturday, I made my way to Norwich. I'm so glad I decided to keep my hairdresser there as my appointments are providing the perfect opportunity to catch up with friends and check-in with the Fine City. It's always nice to experience a little fresh air and a lot of sky and to come away from the hustle and bustle for a while (even on a busy day in Norwich the city feels practically empty to me now). While last time I had failed at the art of coordination, and managed to see no one and do nothing besides sort my hair out, this time saw my return to some favourite haunts, which in turn saw my missing the last train (to be fair to me, it was CRAZY EARLY... although no, I didn't check), but hey, at least I was having a good time!

Following my being late to bed the night before my journey, I set off at a relaxed pace and arrived just in time to go straight in to the hairdresser. My usual stylist was unavailable this time, and the prospect of someone different always fills me with dread. Nevertheless, she was of a very similar nature; not too much pointless chit-chat, and not too crazy with the scissors (I really am very easy to please)!

Once out of the hairdresser, I met a friend from my teacher training and found myself ordering a cocktail at The Ten Bells (notorious for particularly lethal combinations) before I'd even really had time to think about the fact that I was probably actually still hungover from the illuminated dancefloor (plenty of Dutch Courage required). Writing this such a long time after the event, I'm now frustrated because I can't remember what I had to drink, and I was going to be an advocate of it... never mind, maybe it will come back to me. It had gin in it anyway, which is never a bad thing! After the one drink, my powers of persuasion sprung into action and I managed to convince my friend that I needed to visit more places, which meant more drinks, which meant a car needed to be driven home to remove barriers.

In the meantime, I stumbled into the Travel Agent (I hope not literally) and got locked in in order to spend far too much money on flights for the summer before meeting my friend again.   

The next port of call was the Bicycle Shop where tequila and tapas were the order of the day (yum!). From there we headed off to Franks as I was suddenly in the mood to cover as many favourites as possible. Sadly (well, for me anyway), Franks is always crazy popular these days so a seat is hard to come by without a wait. In the mean time we graced Bedford's with our presence. Although I only ever seem to end up in there when Franks is full, I actually quite like the charm of Bedford's; who can resist a proper wooden beam? Upon discovering that we would still be required to wait at Franks, we gave up and instead moved on to The Playhouse for some outdoor seating!

It was here that I decided it was probably best to head back for a train before my arrival into London would be too late. So once drinks were finished, I headed back along Prince of Wales to the station... where I discovered the last train had been and gone. Having explored all possible options (including a taxi, coach travel or the bus back to Kings Lynn), I wound up on a sofa where back-to-back episodes of Pokémon were watched until 4am. Best Saturday night!

Sunday finally saw a London visit from my little brother, so I was up and out of Norwich nice and early in order to be ready for his arrival! Unfortunately, I had made a blunder and told him I was stuck in Norwich, so his own departure from home was far more, shall we say, relaxed? He eventually landed in the early evening and we ate pizza (complete with polystyrene base) and drank beer in preparation for Hospitality.

The last time I was at a Hospitality event it was at Building Six at the O2. Having hated on this venue the first time I visited, I absolutely loved it for Hospitality, with its multi-levels making for great views and incredible sound system. This time Hospitality was at Heaven, where they used to have a residency. Upon discovering that Heaven was Britain's largest gay club, I was a little unsure what to expect, especially with 3 males in tow. Nevertheless, the venue was one of the best I have been to, with so much space for manic helicoptering (those who have seen me dance will understand), viewing platforms and a more than adequate soundsystem! Didn't manage to make it to 6am, but we did survive til 4ish, which we didn't think was a particularly bad effort at all!

The following weekend saw a rather different musical experience and a spontaneous trip to Trafalgar Square to see the LSO perform some Prokofiev. It was a wonderfully surreal experience! To be in such a large space with so many people yet for there to be so much peace (apart from for the sound of trundling road sweepers and low-flying planes swooping by every now and again - oh, and the sound of our own incessant giggles that just would not stop!?) was really quite magical. To top it off, the sun even made an appearance - thank youu London!

After a quiet weekend that followed (got to break up the madness occasionally?), the next bank holiday saw my return to Norwich for the end of the NNF. On Saturday night I was hypnotised by Lavinia Meijer playing Einaudi and Philip Glass on the harp in St Peter Mancroft. After a few pints with pork scratchings from Sir Garnet (Lady Garnet's namesake pub) and with a tummy full of food from The Grosvenor, it was an incredibly tranquil experience! I don't think I've ever truly experienced a solo harp performance, but I will definitely be seeking another in the future; so magical! Still in a bit of a stupour, we lasted just long enough for a cocktail accompanied by tea and bread and oils at Frank's (all the food/mixing of everything was a pretty big regret for us both that night, and again, upon reading this back I can see why) before calling it a night.

An intentional walk along the canal this time on the quiet weekend in between the madness.

This time my Norwich stop over was planned, as Sunday I experienced a mighty roast at The Reindeer (as if their pork scratchings weren't enough to blow me away already). Food was pretty unneccessary for the rest of the day. Just, wow. Before roasting, I took a stroll (probably did that the wrong way around) and finally managed to sneak in the Plantation Gardens which certainly didn't disappoint! They have a real 'Secret Garden' feel about them, and particularly so when adorned with enormous pieces of material (the cynic in me may have wondered why someone had hung their towels out to dry) hanging from the walls at the far end of the garden, setting a rainbow backdrop for the rest of the garden, which was still lacking some colour so early on in the season.

Sunday evening back in London was a pub crawling, aimless wandering kind of evening - a lovely end to another pretty hectic weekend! (I even saw a baby fox; pretty exciting?)

The next day marked the start of half term, and a first full reunion since graduation with some very special friends was an excellent way to begin! (As I write this, I am suddenly aware of my alcohol consumption and feeling less sorry for myself regarding the state I am in by this point following half term and the weekend just gone... oh dear.) We met at Southbank and, as usual did a remarkable amount of wandering (although thankfully there were no injuries sustained this time). Somehow we ended up inside The Shard (pretty special) and then carried on to China Town for food because 'it's not that far'... when will I learn?! The best kind of friends are those that you can not see properly for almost two years and yet still feel like you were all together yesterday. Beautiful day!

May was busy! But, as ever, I had so much fun and it was really wonderful to manage some catch-ups with people not seen in far too long. So far, June is already proving to be pretty fun - think I've got that summer feeling (bring on the 6-week holidays)!

A day at sea

All thoughts have drifted, floated away onto the sea –

As becomes the nature of a cruise holiday, you get caught up in this confusing state of relaxation vs. trying to fit in as much of everything as possible. This means setting alarms of a morning to ensure that no day is wasted (in theory, although of course an early start inevitably means a nap later in the day to compensate). Our first day of holiday was spent sailing the seas between Spain and Portugal, as we headed to our first port of call, Lisbon. Realistically, therefore, there was very little point in setting an alarm, but nevertheless the keen-cruiser in me took control and I was up bright and early for breakfast on deck. Or so I thought. I am a firm believer in holidays being the ultimate opportunity for escapism, so I refuse to use my phone when abroad. However, this time I had taken it to act as our morning alarm, although of course as it did not automatically update due to being set to flight mode, I had then forgotten to change the time, so was up an hour later than expected; whoops!

Sat on deck with a croissant and a cup of tea (my first breakfast of the day) wrapped up in my scarf and maxi, trying not to get blown away. Had been sitting for a while when I suddenly realised my mind was literally empty. Blank. Really how often does that happen? It is the most AMAZING experience, like your brain has finally decided it’s allowed to switch off and so has extremely successfully gone into hibernation mode; luxury. Instead of concerning myself with ridiculous thoughts as make a habit of usually passing through my head, I was able to observe with fascination the microclimate that seems to surround a ship. As I said, it was windy as might be expected, but it was also caught between sunshine and cloud, and at one point there was even a single raincloud which showered us all for a matter of seconds before swiftly moving on. Around we all sat, looking at each other in complete disbelief!

I was eventually joined on deck by the woman who knows how to holiday (as in, she sleeps, as opposed to getting up unnecessarily early) and we ventured to find brunch. Stomachs lined with a Full English, we headed back to where I’d been sat under the microclimate to enjoy the sunshine/bracing wind. We made half an attempt to find a ‘sheltered’ spot, although quickly came to the realisation that unless it was inside, there was very little chance of sheltering from a sea breeze when one is at sea (nevertheless, it later transpired that, as ever, my parents had found a jammy spot down on the promenade deck... if only we had allowed our legs to take us that little bit further)!

Lorna goes on a mission to see if around the corner is more sheltered..

... it really isn't!

As I write this, I am beginning to realise how cat-like one becomes on a cruise holiday. So far the pattern has been: sleep-eat-sit-eat-sit-, and now we follow with another eat, as then it was time for lunch! After lunch, we braved making our way into the Jubilee Show Lounge for what was really a Michael Bublé tribute, although he lured us in being described as a swing-singer in general. Armed with afternoon tea to keep us going, we actually found ourselves quite pleasantly surprised, if a little too close to the speaker for mother’s liking (and we would have been dazzled by his outfit from any angle; says Lorna ‘he appears to be wearing my dress as a jacket’). Now I may not be a self-confessed Bublé fan, let alone the fan of a take-off, but while we sat enjoying his performance, I got to thinking about crowds/us Brits, and how bizarre we are! There we all sit in formal rows, arms folded, blank expressions. I may have recently discovered I am not Latino enough for Salsa, but I do like to think I may still be a little more European than British when it comes to the effect of music on my body. I find myself looking like an over-excited child, going way beyond a subtle foot-tap with a full-on body bob (if that’s not already a thing, I make it one) mixed in with a lot of side to side swaying (enhanced this time by the ‘gentle pitching’ of the ship, which it seems leaves a head in a permanent state of feeling inebriated; a life on the waves would be LUSH)! I hope that whatever I do gives a little hope to a performer if they happen to catch sight of me (and hopefully that’s not for all the wrong reasons), otherwise us Brits really are a tough crowd (good at applause though, I can’t deny)!

Perhaps subconsciously in order to calm me down, we went back out to be blustered around and drink Tom Collins’. Whilst outside I found myself tuning in to inane conversation between two couples who had obviously met onboard. I’m sure if I ever happen to have my own children, I too will enter into the obligatory bettering that seems to go on between parents;

‘oh no, my boys never argue. I mean, they don’t really socialise, but if they’re out in the same bar and one of them gets into trouble I think they’d look out for each other’ - ‘oh your boys don’t have girlfriends? Well mine is only 12 years old and he does. Only the other day I heard him say that when she goes to university he’ll stay behind and keep house’

... seriously (I must admit there’s something strangely empowering to know that I sat there writing this on the table right next to them – or is it perhaps a little creepy?)?!

Blustery winds do not bode well with straws in cocktails, or indeed with pages of notebooks (certainly not with loose pages of typed print), so we retreated inside where we came across a bar with window seats, which we would go on to become all too fond of! Snuggled comfortably in what was really just a large, less round, more square, port-hole, I gazed down over the waves caused by the motion of the ship. The break is hands down the best form of hypnosis I know.

Now anyone that has ever played table tennis with me will know that my claim to fame is my ability to play efficiently in formal attire (heels included) a-top a ship on the North Sea in gale force winds. Having made this boast to Lorna, it was only right that she would want to witness these ‘skills’. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) for her, there was an opportunity to play table tennis in a lounge at the front of the ship (it was definitely the movement that kept taking me off balance, not the Tom Collins (plural)), so we finally broke the sleep-eat-sit-eat pattern and went to do some form of exercise! The serious-types were already in full swing when we got there, and for some reason, no one seemed to realise that we were hoping to participate. I wonder whether floor-length skirts, flip-flops and our distinct lack of own bats with heated handles were not enough to convince everyone? We were quite disappointed to find that there was only one table, so not only was everyone taking turns, which meant that we had to wait for one, having taken quite enough time to pluck up the courage to even go, they were also watching each other – mortifying! Once ‘everyone’ had had their turn, the entertainment host began to call some people back up, to which I cried ‘can’t we have a go?’, throwing up my hand, again like an over-eager child. With some surprise, he agreed, and we took to the floor, where we were apparently pretty impressive, causing further surprise. 

Take that, owners of ping pong bats with heated handles!

So as to avoid embarrassing the pros, we disappeared into a shroud of mystery after our one match, and began prepping for Captain’s Cocktail night. Captain’s Cocktail, as always, consisted of endless photos in front of various cheesy cruise ship backgrounds, shaking hands with the captain among other ‘key’ staff, amazing food:

Starter - [green] mussels

Soup – mushroom with truffle oil

Main – steak

Dessert – chocolate charlotte and something with champagne in it

, performing waiters, questionable entertainment (this time it was Moulin Rouge – a selection of ‘numbers’ from the Parisian streets), blowing around the top deck in black tie, and finding ourselves thoroughly depressed in a bar at the end of the night with other stragglers by the sounds of the Boros Duo (one performance piece of choice was the theme from Schindler’s List, it was a struggle). 

In an attempt to cheer ourselves up, we finally rose from our depressive slump and went in pursuit of perkier climbs/sounds. As a result, we became embroiled in a cynical (and probably not as subtle as we would have liked to think) discussion about the effect of accents on how intelligent a person seems, and I embarrassed myself attempting impressions of the dear character Mr Porky found on the front of a packet of pork scratchings. 

A day and night very well spent I reckon. 

Dryanuary (I know that's not the official name, but if you say it really quickly I think it has a better ring to it!)

New Year’s Resolution Number 1 – improve diet! 

New Year's Resolution Number 2 – make time for real Laura time!

By way of adhering to both of these resolutions, I made a rather extreme (by my standards, anyway) decision at the beginning of the year. Every year I have made an attempt to at least say ‘this year, I am going to take a break from alcohol’, and every year I have failed to even say that sentence without an overwhelming sense of doubt, let alone make it a reality. This year, however, despite the reactions of my highly supportive friends (said with a slight hint of sarcasm after mutual agreement that perhaps we could all support each other in our endeavour, followed by shock and awe at the news this weekend that I am still standing by my word), I am making a proper go of it!

Admittedly, I did not start at the very beginning of January, as I had to see to the alcohol store leftover from Christmas (there is still Gin hiding in the freezer if anyone is looking for any) to avoid temptation! However, I have now survived three weekends, substituting Cobra for pineapple juice, cocktails for Turkish teas and red wine for cranberry! I’ve hardly dared to openly own up to my choice to give up alcohol for fear of imminent failure (as I write this, I worry that I sound rather like an alcoholic – as if the ring addiction wasn’t enough!), but this weekend marked a significant achievement in the proceedings, so I now know I am doing well.

Last Saturday I awoke with the most atrocious headache. It was as though my body is so used to my usual morning-after-the-night-before state that it decided to give me that hungover feeling just so I wasn’t in danger of missing it too much. Of course, I was less than impressed, but thankfully it cleared and a most productive weekend followed. This weekend has been equally as productive and although less adventurous, with the weather as it has been, it has been quite nice to spend some time feeling cosy inside. Friday nights spent cleaning to music bordering on an anti-social volume (I’m simply engaging in friendly competition with the Portuguese folk music so loud from our downstairs neighbours that I always feel convinced there must be a live band performing in our kitchen) and/or doing an extravagant food shop have become something I genuinely relish the thought of (old before my time?), and mean that Saturday is not spent in comatose, but instead has the potential for productivity and the outdoor element of making time for ‘real Laura time’ (when I want to venture out, anyway)!

Friday night thriller. It's how I do.

Last night came my real test, as all the odds were against me;

I went out for a friend’s birthday.

I went out for a friend’s 30^th birthday.

I went out for a friend’s 30^th birthday where I knew no one (Dutch courage had to instead come in the form of over-enthusiastic violin playing detrimental to the living room before I left the house, but that’s a-whole-nother story!!).

I went out for a friends 30^th birthday where I knew no one and drinks were in a GIN BAR (gin is my favourite, just for future reference when this is all over)!

The thing is, I not only survived, I really enjoyed myself. Despite the genuine shock expressed by the barman when I ordered a gin and tonic without the gin (he was shocked? Imagine how I must have felt!), the fact that others have expressed admiration, and that I am feeling and (I may be imagining this but) looking better in myself makes me feel like this is totally worth it and I have a true respect for people who do this every year! I won’t share what’s going on in the back of my mind right now, but we’ll see how the land lies; the spoken aim is until Easter/my birthday.

And hey, I had three sausages for my tea tonight. That’s an odd number. I still know how to have a good time!

GoGoGorillas!

Summer has finally reared its beautiful head, and upon completing my PGCE year, the time has come to make the most of Norwich before I disappear! Although I did have to return to school on Monday and Tuesday of this week, there was no need to prepare for the two days and so last weekend was well spent ‘relaxing’ in the only way I know how... by wandering for miles. A most exciting occurrence in the form of a friend returned from a year abroad in America meant that a very English weekend was in order; so we became tourists in our own county, and in what has been our own city for three and four fond years. 

The summer in Norwich is always full of surprises, and last week the gorillas descended! During one of my teaching practice placements, one of the teachers had been commissioned to paint a gorilla, so I’ve been very excited to see them, and my first weekend off seemed the perfect opportunity! GoGoGorillas! are a collection of sculptures painted by local and regional artists, community groups and schools. Each one is sponsored, and will eventually raise funds in an auction at the end of the event for Break charity and the Born Free Foundation. There are 53 large gorillas, and an additional 66 baby gorillas decorated by local schools across Norfolk; it is currently rather difficult to walk more than a few paces in the city centre without being accosted by one in a shop window, or bumping into one as you turn a corner!

As a self-confessed walkaholic, I didn’t think that 53 gorillas in a day would be too much of a challenge, but it turns out that Norwich isn’t the tiny city I think of it as, and the gorillas are pretty well spaced out! However we did manage a respectful 30ish, and many more babies! At this point I don’t feel that writing about them does them the best justice, so here are a few of my favourites to speak for themselves (absolutely, definitely worth doing the trail if I may say so - I am determined to finish it at the next opportunity)

(Claim to fame gorilla - saw him/her in the progressive stages)

More gorillas this way; possibly the most colourful of my Facebook albums!

Post gorillas there was recovery in the form of summer cocktails at The Assembly House (which I will miss HUGELY), and a very tasty macaroon selection from Macarons & More (which I can’t believe I’ve only just discovered)!

The next day we bounded off to the Sainsbury Centre and prompted by a staggering collection of artefacts from around the world, created a bucket list of countries to visit, before paying a visit nearer to home to the ponies and donkeys at the sanctuary behind the lake. A picnic on a jetty, and a good old fish and chip lunch the day before; I do believe I’m quite good at being typically English (particularly good at being stubborn in my determination to walk everywhere; our feet HURT by the end of the weekend - so much for 'relaxing').