The life and times of a happy go lucky blogger in London
A New Sense of Identity and Loathing

Another dodgy start to the week. After a rather overindulgent Sunday lunch, I woke up at 3am this morning, extremely dehydrated and snuck downstairs to crack open a bottle of emergency lemonade…

After a hour or so of feeling like I was about to pop, I woke up again thinking it was 8.54 and was just about to panic when I checked again and it was 6.54. Phew!

I got a good morning kiss, a cuddle and a cup of tea in bed. Then I was babbled at for 90 minutes. Oh yes, Miniminx was up and about and working on her new, new signature. It’s morphing over the pages of her Hannah Montana notebook, so now it’s a fish motif (she’s Pisces) with her first name in the body shape and her surname initials in the tail. Wow, amazing and thoughtful and invidual – what a cutie. She’s learning how to express herself and creating a sense of identity. She proudly showed me page after page of permutations and I have to say I’m massively impressed, in fact it’s quite a developmental milestone.

We’ve had a Wicked weekend in more ways than one. First we went to see the Wicked the Musical on Saturday and second, after a long and Rosé fuelled Sunday lunch by the river in the fabulour sunshine we were Wicked and Musical.

Miniminx’s Luckyvoice Partybox is a hit in our house, but not it seems next door. So much so in fact, that my neighbour felt it necessary to holler at me about above through the din. It was 7pm, not 2am. Yes, how very unseemly of her, she obviously didn’t enjoy our renditions of the Smiths and Pulp or our duets – we hadn’t even got to Dolly Parton on the playlist. Thank heavens I took off my Amy Winehouse wig before I answered the door…actually, hang on a minute, maybe I should have just kept it on and screamed ‘Blaaaaaaaaaaaake Incaaaaaa-arse-errated’ …that would have stopped her in her tracks.

Ooh she’s a wet blanket isn’t she? Three hugely happy grown ups were placed on the proverbial naughty step and the impromptu party died a death. While I’m tempted to hang my smalls out to dry on our shared trellis just to wind her up a bit, I won’t, because I’m nice and she’s a meanie. I’ve never complained about her REALLY ANNOYING chair-scraping-across-wooden-floor habit, or the way she lets her burglar alarm ring loudly as she goes in and out of the house, or her car alarm going off at 6.45am.

Maybe I should drop anonymous notes through her door saying ‘Lay off that wind breaking will ya?’ or ‘Don’t mean to alarm you but your cleaner is having sex parties while you’re at work – signed a kind, concerned neighbour’.

We’ll just stick to show tunes for now though…I think she might get the point non?

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