Whaa it's bun a rrreeeel laaang tyme missy, whatchoo bun doin?
I bun rrreeeel buzzy sur. Tha's wha I aint done ma blog fur a short while yes sur.
Guess what accent I'm doing.
I haven't blogged for so long, but I have started a couple of times and given up. First let's have what I wrote a few days ago. Maybe I should put it in italics so you can differentiate between THEN and NOW, but reading so much in italics might peck yer head so I won't bother. Try and remember that this is NOW and now this is THEN though, k?
THENLots to say but so tired. The little cat is snoozing next to me and making my eyes all itchy and swollen, but I don't want to move her. Before she was sat on my lap and when I stood up, thinking she would leap off, she just clung on with her claws while I walked around, half-holding her and half-holding my back, like some monstrous pregnant woman with her baby growing on the outside and the baby being a cat.
Now I'll tell you about the lovely hotel I stayed in with my mum. We got 'a good rate' because my mum's cousin works for the hotel, but I can't tell you what her job is or you might be able to Google her and use the information to do voodoo on us. I won't tell you the name of the hotel, but I will say that it looks over Kensington Gardens and Kensington Palace, where my good friends Will and Kate live with their Royal Baby.
I was so excited on the Friday. I'd been Googling the hotel all day, looking at photos of the rooms and reading about the restaurants. There's is a Chinese one on the top floor that Time Out named on their list of 'restaurants with the best views of London'. It looked quite expensive though and I was a bit alarmed when mum sent me a text to say we were booked in there for 8pm. I told her to cancel the booking and explained that it was really dear and she just said, 'Hopefully Cousin* will get a good discount! If not that's a lot of prawn crackers!'
The hotel was VERY SWANKY in my opinion and as I have not stayed in many swanky hotels, perhaps my opinion counts for SHIT.
But the views were far from shit! They were amazing and to prove it I have a photo taken on my Crapberry to show you.
In the bottom photo you can just make out the Shard and in the top photo you can see Kensington Palace. I could look right into Kate and William's bedroom and one night I looked across to see that they were both waving at me, so I shut the curtains. The above sentence is a whopping big lie (that sounds like something out of a Jacqueline Wilson novel) but the below sentence is all truth:
The Chinese restaurant was amazing.
It was three floors above our room (we were on the 7th floor, naturally) and with a panoramic view from three sides. We ordered the Beijing duck which is like Peking duck but less crispy and dry, more fatty and sizzling. It came with pancakes, plum sauce, cucumber ect that you get with Peking duck and also with garlic paste and other things I can't remember that traditionally come with Beijing duck.
They brought it to the table to carve and for 'an appetiser' (depending on which way you look at it) they sliced off some fatty bits of skin and told us to dip them in sugar. I know this sounds disgusting but it was delicious. I know it's awful but hot fat is one of my favourite things to eat. (That's what I most miss about living on my own- sitting on my bed in my knickers and eating the burnt bits of lamb fat from the pan... Wow. Perhaps it is a GREAT THING I no longer live on my own.)
After the pancake course, they turn the rest of the duck into something else, you can choose between a noodle or rice dish. The duck on its own would be quite a lot of food but we ordered loads and loads of dishes and the chef sent some things for my mum's cousin too for us to try...
Looking back it was maybe too much food.
The cocktails were really good too, I had a lychee martini. My mum's cousin and her boyfriend (they've been together for decades) like to eat and drink, a lot. I wondered why we don't see more of them. At the end of the meal, my mum's cousin paid for everything, just whipped out her card and paif for the ridiculous amounts of food and drink.
Me and my mum protested (although my pleas were a little halfhearted, if I'm honest) and said,
"Look, I don't have any kids and I earn a lot of money."
And do you know what?
I want that. I want to spend all my money on food and drink and take everyone out for meals. I love kids but I think I'll always love hot fat dipped in sugar more and that is the revolting reality.
Kids are expensive and we are only bringing them into this world to live in a terrifying post-apocalyptic wasteland, if comic books are to believed. (They are, right?) Earth's drawing to a close now, things are wrapping up. Winding down. It's all about nice times and donating money to try and help homeless people and those in third world countries have nice times too.
Hang on hang on hang on hang on hang on HANG ON a minute:
MAYBE I SHOULD GET INTO POLITICS????
NICE TIMES FOR YOU and NICE TIMES FOR OTHERS, that will be my manifesto. (Maybe I will add something about eyebrow upkeep, racism and child-mauling dogs** at a later date, just to prove my politics have got depth.)
Anyway. Back to the hotel.
The next morning we woke up to lovely views then went down for breakfast. Obviously it took us a while to fully take advantage of the wide selection of breakfast foods on offer, so by the time we left the breakfast room was empty. The waiters seemed to be in a hurry to make everyone leave and as we walked out I saw an old man that I recognised. Before I could think who he was, I saw mum's face and she looked- and there's no other word for it- starstruck.
"Do you know who that was????? That was Omar Sharif!"
She wanted to go back and ask him for a photo but I wouldn't let her. She did, however, post on Facebook that we had breakfast with Omar Sharif.
He's like a real, old Hollywood star!
"Oh he's so handsome." my mum kept saying.
He still is, you know. Apparently he was in London to see the Hull game, because he's a big supporter. No, really.
I better go now, I'm supposed to be packing because...
I'm moving tomorrow! I'll tell you about it soon. For now here is a soppy video of scenes from Dr Zhivago (played by Omar Sharif, if you have no idea what I'm talking about) put to tinkly music.
SPOILER ALERT: Don't watch it if you know the story of Dr Zhivago
*She doesn't her cousin 'Cousin', I have protected her name for Vague Purposes... although I think it sounds quite nice and Shakespearean actually.
**I'd just like to clarify that I would be very opposed to racism and child-mauling dogs and enthusiastically pro eyebrow upkeep.