Sunday, 6 September 2015

Sunday Summary

Hello to you!

Today's state of mind can be briefly summarised with this gif of a baby alpaca:

{Ah'm awake, Ah'm awake, Ah'm... uuuurgh... oh! Yeah.
Ah'm awaaaaa... oh man.}

SLEEPY. SO SLEEPY. (And Dopey too, since we're auditing the Seven Dwarves.)

So you'll have to excuse the discombobulation of this post. I should probably have a pre-Summary nap... Y'know what, I'm-a gonna have a pre-Summary nap. You'll get no sense out of me otherwise.


One-and-a-half-hours later...

Aaaaand I'm BACK!

OK, so my eyebags still rival those of this dude:

but other than that, there's nothing a good granny nap won't fix.

Incidentally, thank you to those lovely peeps who replied to my little poll on Farcebook about this 'ere blog.

I'm very aware that when I write this Summary I write it as though I'm addressing strangers so while many of you lot may know the identity of Ma QB, or my Voicerox lovelies, or "Norgstar" aka Georgina or Natalie, or my work lovelies past or present (because the chances are you are one of these folk), I can't always gauge who exactly is reading, if anyone.

I could get into analytics and such but quite frankly,

So I'll just say, whoever you are, thanks for reading whichever parts of this blog are your bag. :-) xx


This week, I have mostly been...



...What Maisie Knew (again -- because it's an amazing, if sad, film; and all the NY scenery deserved a revisit).

(As ever, this trailer doesn't even begin to cut to the heart of the film but hey.)


So much of that.

Mind you, I say that but sometimes, socialising for me just involves sitting on a seat in a pub, or in a living room, and letting conversation and music and food and other people happen around me.

And y'know, I'm happy like that.

Being a writer (in spite of my only seeming to word-vomit this little treat every week...) means I'm nearly always observing. Although, I will of course pitch in when the time is right, but I'll make sure what I'm about to say is super-witty. (Hint: sometimes it is. Most of the time, not so much. Most of the time, the moment's passed.) Or, if all else fails I'll just witter. That happens a lot too. Witterage.

Anyway. I digress (by virtue of witterage).

This week has actually been a veritable smorgasbord of socialisation.

On Tuesday I met up with former workmate Helen in Clapham for a much-needed catch-up accompanied by giant chicken sandwiches, veh veh niiiice wine (thus coining the expression Boozeday Tuesday - this is probably not good), more chips than I meant to order and more (admittedly truly delicious) coleslaw than I meant to order, too.

We parked ourselves in The Plough (primarily to get out of the apocalyptic rain)

and it transpired to be a lovely, friendly place to catch up.

{image from here}

Then, on Friday, after a leaving do for two colleagues in a pub in Shepherd's Bush (nice enough, but really? £4.80 for a small glass of house red? London, kindly extract your head from your backside and get a grip) work friends Katerina, Eloise and I headed Piccadilly-wards for a truly scrumptious, French-style, art-deco-style, 1930's-style dinner at Brasserie Zédel, with Clare and Evie.

{Fabulous décor...}
{Fabulous desserts...}
{Fabulous company! | From L-R (for the benefit of Ma QB): Katerina, Clare, Eloise and Evie.
I believe you know the spod in the middle...}

BZ is surprisingly good value for properly delicious food (the steak haché on the prix fixe menu was divine) -- the wine is a little more expensive but we shared a bottle of rosé between us and weren't bankrupted by the end of it all.

And we all felt just a little bit French.

{photo from here | original source: er... I'll work on that}

Non? Seulement moi, alors?

Plus, we got to sit and natter for a good couple of hours and put the world to rights and that seems to be a necessity these days.

All good.

Friends = free therapists with wine. 

Poor Eloise did at one point think she'd been deprived of chocolate sauce with her profiteroles but the waiter had rather taken a shine to our table (since he'd had a lengthy conversation on wine with the very knowledgeable Katerina) and was just having a lend of the poor lass. :-)

Then came Saturday...

Saturday was mad. 

And shall furthermore be known as QB's Big Social Saturday. Catchy, innit?

It was all self-inflicted, of course.
Wait, no, not self-inflicted -- self-engineered.
'Self-inflicted' sounds like a bad thing and it certainly wasn't. It was fabulous.
And largely food-and-drink driven.
Which is never a bad thing.

...I do run the risk of this account reading a little like a truncated "one daaaaaay" edition of this song:

...but to 'eck with it. I shall take that risk.

Here's how my day rolled:

7am, up an hour before the alarm with mild shopping anxiety ("have I bought enough? What do I need to take where?! What shop opens when?!")
8.30am, queued outside Wilko, waiting for it to open...
8.45am, mad-dashed round Sainsbury's, trying to remember to buy Frazzles...
9am, queued outside Iceland, waiting for it to open (oh, that was a treat)...
9.30am, back home, made a huge and sustaining keg of coffee, made self mildly more presentable (this was a gradual undertaking throughout the day)...

{10.29am, and the eyebags are already quite prolific...}
10.40am, tottered up the high street to meet Rev'd Sharon (friend and hon. curate) for a lovely hot chocolate and lovely chat. We ended up in West Central where we parked our tray of drinks on an old suitcase, and talked families, writing, and life changes.

{image from here}

12pm, headed off to Fiona and Bianka's anniversary party that was meant to happen in a park but on account of the aforementioned apocalyptic rain and resultant soggy bottom potential was moved to the ladies' flat.

'Twas a lovely time with a really nice mix of people, and some uhmazing bread filled with tamponade tapenade*, mozzarella, parma ham and a lot of other lovely things I can't remember but it was delish, and Bianka's mum's tomato marmalade was also gorgeous! Also managed to indulge in a cheeky glass of prosecco.

(*OK, clearly all those eps of ER and House have warped my brain. One is compression of the heart, the other is a paste of puréed olives, capers and other things... can't quite believe I got the two mixed up for a moment there... awks...

...And yes, sometimes I pronounce Brasserie like Brassiere. Why wouldn't you?

How can it have been a year already? Happy Anniversary, ladies! xx

{1.45pm, and there's a lot of love in the room!}

3.30pm: After a short spell at home during which I had just about enough time to spritz my ailing barnet with dry shampoo (gah, awful stuff but it serves a porpoise) and put on a tiny bit of slap

{3.30pm, on the train. Happy, bit o' slap-py,
still with the colossal eyebags and a stray strand
of grey glittery hair...} 

I headed over to Rahgate to meet fellow Voicerox Deskettes Charlie, Jos, Alun and Wendy for a pre-game/pre-term afternoon tea at new-favourite-local-haunt Bill's (which you may remember from such shenanigans as my birthday...).

{Charlie's and my tower of excellence | sandwiches
just out of shot...}

I believe this photo sums up all you need to know. Bill's gives excellent afternoon tea.

...Oh no, wait, no, that isn't all... because, if you don't want tea there's also champagne or coffee to be had.

I had champagne.

Because I could.

It was all exquisite.

And I'm very excited for the new VR term.

By 6.30pm I was back home, and had just about enough time to put some snackery in the oven, do a bit of domestic drudgery and then apply spangles and war paint in readiness for my own little soiree, otherwise known as my:


Why yes, guests were invited to dress up in the era with which they most identified. (No prizes for guessing mine... I'm so freakin' predictable. #jordanbakerismystyleguru)

{9pm-ish, and I've succumbed to vanity and Photoshopped
out the Louis-Vuitton-size-eyebags | Photo by Jos}

The original concept was a cocktail party and that may still happen in the near future (with more structure and input needed from me! Jury's still largely out on the coconut-based 'chocktail', I believe!) but as I was the only boozehound in the building it became a rather more sophisticated mocktails-and-chattery sort of event, which was actually perfect.

And there was this too:

Glitter jelly is a thing. Glitter jelly shots, however, not so much.

Massive thanks to Charlie for stepping up and organising things like, drinks, fruit-chopping, cocktail umbrella distribution... I have a fairly strong mi casa es tu casa policy at QB Heights, but stronger than that is my mi cocina es tu cocina policy which I've learned to enforce over the years. Seriously, step right up, friends, the kitchen is all yours! ;-)

Right. Cue party photos:

{We have, L-R, Jos (50s), Charlie (80s), Fern (40s), Fiona (early 20s) and Amanda/AJ (90s)
Don't they all look gorgeous??}

{Shake it up, baby, now... | Photo by Jos}

{Bottoms up! | Photos by Jos}

{Photos by Jos}

{Photo by Jos}

{Photo by Jos}

{Photo by Jos}

{Photo by Jos}

And here's the inevitable morning-after-the-night-before kitchen-carnage shot

See? That's what you get for having friends who don't need to drink to be all glittery and fabulous and stuff. A reasonably decent kitchen at the end of things. And a delightful array of cordials and other potential mixers for the next party.

And bubbly, strawberries and chocolate cake in the fridge!

Love you lot.

Pinterest Pin of the Week

Friends, I know this will be deeply upsetting to many (er...) but I'm foregoing the Weekly Web Finds this week, so here, as a Sunday Summary signoff, is a gif that represents all of you all:

Have good weeks.


Soppy qb xx

No comments:

Post a Comment