One does not realise what a blessing 'average health' is until one becomes ghastly ill. Simply put, "you don't know what 'chu got till it's gone" or in my case, until you have norovirus. The second half of last week was a completely write-off when I caught the highly infectious norovirus (yay!) and passed it on to my housemate who then took it a step further and then developed gastroenteritis. The damned house was like The Masque Of The Red Death, with everyone spasming, shuddering, and calling out for sweet, blessed release. All I can say is...thank God we have a bathroom each to ourselves.
Overdramatic and gory imagery aside, the moment it all cleared up I seized---with newfound appreciation for the simple joy of no longer having to sleep by the toilet---my rediscovered freedom and the car keys, and sped away to the other side of town for a wholesome little Sunday brunch. Oh, the fresh air! Oh, to travel! Oh, to be able to operate heavy machinery!
The ecstatic face of one who's finally seen the sun after 3 painful days of abject physical punishment.
I picked up my mistresses from Dalston, to share with me my newly acquired freedom...
Barnsey hitting the roof hahaha.
In lieu of a group shot I (un)skilfully photoshopped Lucy in.
We arrived safely---why shouldn't we?---at Carlisle Mansions just in time for a light brunch, drinks, and chatter.
Nick hard at work in the kitchen, making his famous pancakes. A man who can cook knows his way into a woman's heart.
After half a week of surviving eating only medication and Vitacoco, these carbs were a welcome sight. Nutella, syrup, whipped cream, blueberries and strawberries...oh blessed day.
Any relation to you, Lady Butterworth?
With Nick, who's so tall I have to stand on my tippy toes just so both our heads would fit in the picture.
I love wholesome, chilled out Sunday house parties, it's all incredibly laid-back, with none of the usual posturing and attempted one-uppance that comes with the territory of Friday nights at the club. Live simply and without stress, I find myself thinking now that I'm a bit older and much more mellow.
Oh, and pancakes are to be involved at all house parties. Of course.