Professor Green Gig

Just had dinner at Jamie Oliver's Restaurant, Notting Hill

Vodka and cranberry juice: happiness in a cup!

Iris and me

We made some friends on the dance floor.

5am #muchneededcoffee

I've had some pretty amazing times/experiences while in the UK. But nothing has topped the charts like last weekend! Oh my word! My amazing parents bought me an early christmas present:

YEAH! It's the 60th Anniversary for The Mousetrap. I went to the same theatre where the Queen Mother and the actual Queen attended years ago. Walking the red carpet with my little black dress on and red liptstick, I felt like royalty myself. The performance was incredible. I do love the theatre! I drew unnecessary attention to myself by laughing  out loud instead of chucking in my tummy like the rest of the audience. When the music became louder and a murder happened in the dark, there was a tremendous scream let out by the murdered actor. Before falling out of my seat from sheer fright, I cupped my hands over my ears and closed my eyes. I don't like loud noises, especially of the murdering type.

But all that aside, I felt tremendously posh walking out in to the crisp winter air after sitting in front of England's longest running theatrical play.

To show that I can be culturally diverse, I went from West End to Brixton to watch Professor Green, an adorable Rap artist. It was the coolest experience! I am not an avid clubber by nature, but being in front of the stage with a very famous singer inches away from your fingertips, it made the exception.
We were swamped in a crowd of dancers, and when the Professor said to jump, we jumped and when he said clap, clap, clap...we followed suit.
We danced from 10 till 4 in the morning. Oh my word! Not only did we stink, every muscle in our body ached.

London's underground doesn't operate till 7am on a Sunday morning, so we said goodbye to Tom and Adam and walked. And walked and walked. We talked about our families, past relationships, our favourite nail varnish. We stopped beside the road where an ethnic man was cooking hot dogs. You don't know how divine the warmth was of those crisp sausages wrapped in white bread splattered with tommy k. We ended up in Clapham and got a bus to Oxford Street. We lifted our hands in thanks on seeing a 24hr McDonalds. We curled up on sofas as far away from the door as possible. We were so cold, we had stopped talking because our mouths refused to do anything but chatter till our teeth ached.

That was the most amazing cappuccino I have ever held on to. We spent the first thirty minutes sitting on those sofas laughing at how stupid we were. Walking around in the wintery cold without proper clothing is a death wish...or close enough.

I've spent the last week recovering from a horrible cold. Iris is fine, but she's used to degrees dropping below 3.

But it was worth it.

And would I do it again you ask?

Yes.

Yes, I think I would.