It might be a perfume, it might be a song but in the case of my lovely friend Carly, it's those slinky vest tops from Zara that remind me of her. I think she introduced me to them which is why I have such a strong connection between the two.
Carly's over in LA so I don't see her much but think of her often. Our birthdays are exactly six months apart so she is my half birthday soul sister. On my birthday a couple of weeks ago, her Facebook status said that she was thinking of her half birthday soul sister in London, wishing her a happy happy birthday and when I read that, it brought tears to my eyes - the smallest things mean the most.
As I slowly unpack the cases from my recent move back from Ibiza, I come across the slinky vest tops and immediately think of Carly. She's in Austin at the moment at SXSW no doubt having a fabulous time. It's been nearly four years since we last saw each other, I hope I see her again soon!
Sunday 15 March 2009
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Where did that last month go?
I just logged onto my blog and realised that the last post was written nearly a month ago. I wondered what I'd been doing over that time as I obviously hadn't been blogging but then I remembered that the last month has been a flurry of Spanish classes and homework, yoga and hanging out with friends and generally having a wonderful time before I left the island.
This now means I've got loads to write about. I had the big birthday nearly two weeks ago and it was wonderful, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend, hectic as it was. I also did another radio show the day before my birthday and loved it! This is something I would seriously like to do a lot more of, playing records I love and having a chat over the airwaves. I listened to the show again today for the first time and I just sounded so happy - when it comes to sharing music, I think I've found my calling!
I arrived back in London late last night after a 4-day journey over land and sea. It was eventful as journeys go. The first day I got the ferry from Ibiza to Denia and spent the first couple of hours out on the deck, lapping up the sunshine. Once on the mainland, I drove up to Valencia and started looking for a hotel while on the outskirts. I quickly spotted a neon blue sign indicating a hotel so I pulled over and tracked it down in the middle of a barren wasteland otherwise doubling as an industrial estate. Luckily they had rooms available and I made my way up to my room. There I found something a little unusual, something I'd never seen in a hotel before - an A4 sheet providing information on erotic holidays. I went back down to reception and a guest got into the lift wearing a silky short dressing gown. I did find myself thinking it a little strange to see guests in their dressing gowns but thought no more of it. I had to go out to the van to get some things and as I turned back towards the hotel and looked up to the large windows on the first floor I noticed a number of girls in similar slinky short dressing gowns that I'd already seen in the lift. Now my curiousity was aroused, what was going on at this hotel?
After dinner I nonchalantly wandered up to the first floor, acting as if I had some reason to be there. Girls were going in and out of the dining room, all heavily made up, all in those slinky gowns and all wearing those perpex killer heels favoured by strippers. There was a security guard sat outside the dining room and as soon as he saw me approach out of the lift, he started hovering above his seat, ready to escort away this person (me) who very obviously didn't belong on the first floor and had no reason to be there. I didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of being forced back into the lift so I just turned on my heels and left of my own accord. It would have been funny to have made a scene though. I didn't work out what was going on at that hotel, it was either a brothel or there was a strippers' convention taking place or maybe it had something to do with the erotic holidays. But the next morning as I left the hotel and started crawling along the road, trying to find my escape route out of industrial estate drudgery, I saw a girl tottering along the street and I think she may have been working! Well, there had to be some reason for her wearing a skirt so short it might as well have been a belt as it did absolutely nothing to cover her bum which was completely exposed for all to see.....
The next evening I arrived in Bilbao and spent about two hours looking for a hotel. The mission failed miserably, if there were hotels they were very badly signposted and parking seemed scarce. I drove up a number of tracks thinking there was a hotel at the end but I was misreading the signs. Once I drove up a track and then had to reverse out again, reversing up hill and navigating some tight turns. As I got to the end, I smelt an instantly recognisable smell - the distinct acrid odour of my clutch going. However I knew that if this happens, you just have to switch off the engine and sit there for an hour or so and the clutch usually returns to normal. I did this and then drove off again, my sensors on paranoid alert for that smell again even though I definitely did not want to encouner it again as that would have meant a lot of trouble. I spent a little while longer looking for the elusive hotels and then gave up, found a good spot to park, dragged my quilt out of the back of the van and set up camp for the night. This involved sleeping in the front of the van. I half expected to hear a little tap on the window at some point as the Guardia Civil or an upstanding member of the community came to tell me I couldn't sleep there but thankfully everyone left me in peace to have an okay night of sleep that reminded me of sleeping on a plane....
The ferry from Bilbao to Portsmouth was long and boring. I got seasick just as I was contemplating dinner and ended up having to make my way back to the cabin and collapse on the bed. I rose twelve hours later but felt much better and managed to have breakfast even though it wasn't really of a high gastronic calibre but it was a bit like being on a chav cruise ship so what was I to expect?
I'm now back in London, wondering what life back in London is going to be like? Only time will tell.....
This now means I've got loads to write about. I had the big birthday nearly two weeks ago and it was wonderful, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend, hectic as it was. I also did another radio show the day before my birthday and loved it! This is something I would seriously like to do a lot more of, playing records I love and having a chat over the airwaves. I listened to the show again today for the first time and I just sounded so happy - when it comes to sharing music, I think I've found my calling!
I arrived back in London late last night after a 4-day journey over land and sea. It was eventful as journeys go. The first day I got the ferry from Ibiza to Denia and spent the first couple of hours out on the deck, lapping up the sunshine. Once on the mainland, I drove up to Valencia and started looking for a hotel while on the outskirts. I quickly spotted a neon blue sign indicating a hotel so I pulled over and tracked it down in the middle of a barren wasteland otherwise doubling as an industrial estate. Luckily they had rooms available and I made my way up to my room. There I found something a little unusual, something I'd never seen in a hotel before - an A4 sheet providing information on erotic holidays. I went back down to reception and a guest got into the lift wearing a silky short dressing gown. I did find myself thinking it a little strange to see guests in their dressing gowns but thought no more of it. I had to go out to the van to get some things and as I turned back towards the hotel and looked up to the large windows on the first floor I noticed a number of girls in similar slinky short dressing gowns that I'd already seen in the lift. Now my curiousity was aroused, what was going on at this hotel?
After dinner I nonchalantly wandered up to the first floor, acting as if I had some reason to be there. Girls were going in and out of the dining room, all heavily made up, all in those slinky gowns and all wearing those perpex killer heels favoured by strippers. There was a security guard sat outside the dining room and as soon as he saw me approach out of the lift, he started hovering above his seat, ready to escort away this person (me) who very obviously didn't belong on the first floor and had no reason to be there. I didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of being forced back into the lift so I just turned on my heels and left of my own accord. It would have been funny to have made a scene though. I didn't work out what was going on at that hotel, it was either a brothel or there was a strippers' convention taking place or maybe it had something to do with the erotic holidays. But the next morning as I left the hotel and started crawling along the road, trying to find my escape route out of industrial estate drudgery, I saw a girl tottering along the street and I think she may have been working! Well, there had to be some reason for her wearing a skirt so short it might as well have been a belt as it did absolutely nothing to cover her bum which was completely exposed for all to see.....
The next evening I arrived in Bilbao and spent about two hours looking for a hotel. The mission failed miserably, if there were hotels they were very badly signposted and parking seemed scarce. I drove up a number of tracks thinking there was a hotel at the end but I was misreading the signs. Once I drove up a track and then had to reverse out again, reversing up hill and navigating some tight turns. As I got to the end, I smelt an instantly recognisable smell - the distinct acrid odour of my clutch going. However I knew that if this happens, you just have to switch off the engine and sit there for an hour or so and the clutch usually returns to normal. I did this and then drove off again, my sensors on paranoid alert for that smell again even though I definitely did not want to encouner it again as that would have meant a lot of trouble. I spent a little while longer looking for the elusive hotels and then gave up, found a good spot to park, dragged my quilt out of the back of the van and set up camp for the night. This involved sleeping in the front of the van. I half expected to hear a little tap on the window at some point as the Guardia Civil or an upstanding member of the community came to tell me I couldn't sleep there but thankfully everyone left me in peace to have an okay night of sleep that reminded me of sleeping on a plane....
The ferry from Bilbao to Portsmouth was long and boring. I got seasick just as I was contemplating dinner and ended up having to make my way back to the cabin and collapse on the bed. I rose twelve hours later but felt much better and managed to have breakfast even though it wasn't really of a high gastronic calibre but it was a bit like being on a chav cruise ship so what was I to expect?
I'm now back in London, wondering what life back in London is going to be like? Only time will tell.....
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