2 Mar 2014

And For My 100th blog I Will,

Be moaning about something else...

I have way too much spare time on my hands, and one of my things to do with said time is watch TV series and knit whatever project I'm working on at the time - whether it's tree stockings, blanket patches or baby jumpers. Before anyone even thinks I'm having a mini me a) several of my friends already have young babies b) one of my friends is currently pregnant and I'm making a present or two for her and c) I don't have the patience for a full sized project. 

The problems come in many forms, such as Netflix only having the first four seasons of something, and then me having to switch until the fifth season comes on, or finding that I have seen most of the films on Netflix which I am actually interested in, and of course, the fact that our internet can't even load the definition of the word shoddy before crapping out. 

Aside from that though, this weekend has been pretty amazing. 

After running so late that we missed an event we were planning to go to, my lovely Ben and I decided to go to Camden. On a Saturday. If you're from London, you'll realise how kind of stupid that was, but ah well, it was still really good fun.

One of the things I love about the markets is that you can find really good incense and it's not overly priced like it can be on the internet, and the burners aren't too bad either. I picked up some 'Black Love' sticks and 'Dragons Blood' cones - they smell amazing. You would think they would mess with my asthma, but they actually feel like they help...

After that loveliness, we decided to have a walk along the canal with a hot apple juice and cinnamon (yuck!) and mulled wine (mmmmmhmmm) up to ZSL London, Regent's Park, then get home via Baker Street. It was nice to be out whilst the sun was putting in a bit of an appearance, even though it was still cold enough to make your hands numb. 

It's got to the point now where I'm counting down the days until my birthday (17) and I'm kind of crapping myself about turning 21. Okay, so in this country, the only thing it really affords you is the pleasure of getting into certain clubs that would have turned you away before, but past that, I can't see that it really means much. Maybe 21 is the final farewell to the teenage years, because by then, the majority of your friends have hit twenty, so rather than a group of teenagers, you become a group of twenty somethings. That ambiguity makes it feel so much older!

But alas, my little old self feels the need to retreat to the safety of my bed, with my knitting or Pride and Prejudice (the book) 

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