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august feels

So it would appear The Great British Summer of 2017 is going for gold in the annual hide and seek championships because has anyone found her yet? And, like, why can't my hiding-the-fact-i-ate-three-scones-before-9am-today skills be quite so accomplished!? Life can be so unfair. But ARE WE DOWNHEARTED BY GLOOMY SKIES AND A LACK OF VITAMIN D?! Well, um, yes a little bit - but that's nothing a little (read: a fucking lot) of gin can't sort out. 

Some other mentionably fun things that have happened of late are (1) Mikey's-brother's-girlfriend's 30th birthday which included a lot of dancing, mikey's usually-very-composed stepdad dancing full pelt to amy winehouse's 'Valerie' complete with a glittery wig on his head, some sleeeeeepover fun at Watford's Best Western, and a monumentous hangover that could only be subdued by a chinese take away and a day spent horizontal in bed; (2) grooooooving on down to the crackin' sound of my friend's band in town this weekend and, finally, (3) realising that it is LESS THAN ONE MONTH until I get to rap the entire Marshall Mather's discography word perfectly see Eminem at Reading Festival where I am going to be (drum roll please) losing myself in the music, definitely not missing my chance to blow because this opportunity comes once in a life time. I AM NOT EVEN SORRY ABOUT THAT ONE, NO.

And saving the best til last...I only went and got offered my perfect job last Friday and would be lying if I said 'Walking on Sunshine' by Katrina & the Waves hasn't been my internal soundtrack ever since. Thanks loads for the crazy support on Twitter - you lot are impeccably fabulous and I am over the freakin' moon. ♥

ps. soz for the katie-face-spam in this post, but if you ain't allowed to spend a bit of time feelin' yo'self after slapping on a full face of make-up and doing more to your hair for once than dry shampooing the shit out of it - then when can you?! Sorry not sorry. 

kindness is free, sprinkle that shit everywhere

I wouldn't blame you for thinking that little else went on in my head apart from Justin Bieber, Leo di Caprio, brunch, and cocktails on a continuous rolling loop. Which, to be completely honest, isn't too far from the truth BUT - on the odd occasion the loop skips and a spot frees up for me to think about something else...I've been revelling in the joys of being a more positive paula. Not all the time, mind, I'm not superwoman and after 1 hours sleep coupled with period pain all day on Thursday my new-found-posi-patience was really being put to the test, but in general, I've been drinking a lotta positivi-tea and am starting to feel the good karma returned. 

A few other thoughts I've squeezed into the loop: that people are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful little beings and it never fails to amaze me how interesting they can become when you get to know them. Working hard pays off, just not in the ways you expect sometimes. A smile goes a long way. I mean, a really long way. So do unexpected cups of coffee. And lastly, there is no day bad enough that can't be cheered up by a decent cuddle.

I'm also enjoying affirming my positive-pants status with prints from Printiki. Because who doesn't love a good life mantra distributed evenly amongst fairy lights?! As well as life mantras, I've printed off photos of my nearest and dearest which serve as a daily reminder that I'm surrounded by some pretty wonderful, beautiful, interesting, funny as fuck, and supportive as hell people. And yes, I did print a picture of Justin Bieber because NO ONE GETS TO JUDGE WHAT MAKES ME HAPPY and if JB's cute lil face sends happy shivers down my spine then so be it. I didn't chose the belieber life, it chose me. 

I picked up these gorgeous lights from Etsy and you can chose and order your own prints from Printiki here. No obligation to order JB either, but you will if you know what's good for ya, jus sayin'. 

Yep, it has been a good fortnight of food. And an even better fortnight of slowly but surely dragging my mindset out of the fuck-its and into the wonderful world of be-a-better-bloody-person. So, to sum this relatively odd post up; be the energy you want to attract. And that energy should more often than not be a positive energy - but you can always try and emanate some telepathic SIZE 8 TONED MODEL BRONZED GODDESS energy in the hope you can attract those back in physical form, too. Mentioning that for a friend.

st tropez and lotsa vino

One thing that always becomes shockingly apparent on holiday is that my love of France knows no bounds. Like, for real there is no metaphorical or literal boundary to my enthusiasm, gusto and gratitude for everything French. I mean, it might be something to do with them producing more than 246 varieties of cheese, or their attitude to wine that can be summed up simply as ‘...want some?’, but nothing in the world makes me happier than a warm summer evening in the south of france (except, perhaps, picking up chocolate eggs in tesco for half the price following easter cos y'know - the only thing better than cadburys in egg-form is half price cardburys in egg-form. Everyone knows that). 

lazy days on the côte d'azur

My parents have always told me that I have no grey area. I either love something, or absolutely hate it. It's the best roast dinner I've ever eaten, or categorically the absolute worst. I am so in love with Justin Bieber that I cannot even fathom how to think about anything else / Tess Daly is the most tragic thing that has ever happened to prime time TV. I'm pretty black and white, even if it's not always strictly true (I'm pretty sure the burger-van burger I ate when drunk at a festival at 2 in the morning was probably not the best burger I'd ever eaten, but that didn't stop me telling anyone that would listen that night how effing incredible it was and not shutting up about it for 3 weeks afterwards). 

gin drinking in southern france

So far this holiday has consisted of a lot of swimming, a lot of sunbathing, a worrying amount of food, a hell of a lot of gin and very, very, very little room for anything else. Of the surplus outfits I painstakingly rolled up in my suitcase back in England little over a week ago, I have lived practically single-handedly in two; a white bikini and a black bikini. Hallelujah.

Cambridge, Pimms & punting

If you hadn't already guessed by the consistent and pretty unassailable theme that underlies the majority of this blog: I love a good cocktail. Always and all ways. And in a variety of different locations (e.g. LondonMargate, or going internationale in Paris, Berlin, Venice and Budapest). So a few weekends ago, we decided to push the boat out once more (punting pun for the win) and take a little mosey up to Cambridge, where we washed our cocktails down with The Official First Pimms of 2017. 

Birthday boozer in the New Forest

Oi oi. So I just got back from a 10/10 weekend in the most beautiful little cabin in the New Forest for my gawj Sophie's 27th birthday. To give you a summary of how this weekend went I'll say this: we definitely put the 'hang' in hanging out...but, boy oh boy oh boy, did we put that 'hang' a little more forcefully into 'hangover', 'hanging eachother out to dry' and 'hanging our heads in alcohol-induced shame'. 

Scandinavian poster love

Unfortunately, the 'Professional Snoozer' job opening is yet to become available, meaning that I am still hauling myself out of bed 5 days a week so that I may afford copious cocktails on the weekend. This process is tricky at the best of times. But let me tell you it is 2847385635 times tricker when your bed is this damn cosy. 

Life lessons in London +CitizenM

I learnt something last weekend. And that something was this: that being able to turn on lights, open blinds, watch films, listen to any radio show or play any music all from the comfort of bed really is the pinacle of Made It. Oh yes, I can confirm that I am now a firm believer in the power of the smart bedroom. In fact, I’d go as far as saying that my life won’t be complete until I can leisurely lie in bed and use an ipad to request that a shepherd's pie sandwich be delivered to me via naked butler. And if I can't have that...well then CitizenM Shoreditch might just be the next best thing...

Thank F**k it's February

When I say that I am so glad January is over - I really, really mean it. Like really. Because this January, ladies and gentlemen, I somehow managed to survive a full 31 days without eating a single piece of chocolate. Not a chocolate chip cookie, not a powdered hot chocolate, not even the single smartie that fell out of my drawer and rolled, teasingly, around my bedroom floor. I repeat - no chocolate whatsoever. And that's not even the impressive part, oooh no. I managed to do this...

a) without killing anyone
b) with my sanity vaguely (...) intact
c) without substituting chocolate with wine.

Okay so that last one was a lie. But c'mon, small mercies. Anyone that knows me will know that I eat chocolate every single day so - petty as it may seem to you - this is a pretty fecking big deal for me: the lady who once managed to eat an entire family sized bar of Cadbury's BEFORE 9AM. 

Birthday in Berlin - part ii

If this trip to Berlin had a tag line it would be this;
And I'm talking at 8am in the morning, at 11pm at night, after having dinner, before having breakfast, on the worst hangover of my life, inbetween eating other bratwursts...the list goes on (and on and on and on). If I had to make a guess at the sheer distance of sausage we managed to consume over the course of four days in Berlin, I'd have to pop the figure at approx 98km. No exageration. Yet, somehow I didn't manage to take one photo of the thing at any point of our holiday which I can only say is a sheer testament to my tunnel-visioned-bratwurst-eating devotion. So instead, you'll just have to look at some #architectureporn. Which I know is not as good as #bratwurstporn, I'M SORRY.