A day in my Posh, Broke, & Bored Life / LDN Edition

May 12, 2014

Here in London the calm, languid air of general wellbeing associated with one blessed with a life of comfort and privilege is replaced with a slight frenzy of tension and self-sufficiency (Malaysia Tatler describes me as 'strongly independent'like the smell of rain on the ether moments before a storm. Gone are the luxuries of being in the motherland ie. staying with my family and exploiting their generosity, the 'holiday mood', and mostly not having to worry about neither time nor resources. Oh, the duality. But such is my Posh, Broke, & Bored life...

9:00 am

I may or may not wake up with a hangover. Happily such an occurrence is becoming increasingly rare, not because my tolerance has increased but because I have greatly cut back on drinking. And also social interaction. But! A rare instance was the Eurovision Final. Diana and I played the Eurovision drinking game (low smoke machine effects? Drink. Quirky song? Drink. Britain wins? Finish drink). By the time voting started I was so trollied I couldn't even sit upright. Glorious.

One thing is certain, I used to automatically wake up after exactly eight hours of sleep. Now I rise more or less the same time every morning irregardless of any deviant late-night activity...or lack thereof. Yes, the luxury of working from home and choosing my own hours is wasted on me.  

I used to skip breakfast (mostly because I wouldn't wake up for it) but now I have to start the day with my Yakult, vitamins, Berocca, and double espresso before I am even fit to have breakfast, let alone be civilised. 

I take my cultured drinks very seriously. It is my religion. You should never mess with the Ya-kult (occult).

My daily supplements are omega 3 oil, evening primrose oil, multivitamins, Vitamins B & C (Berocca), zinc, iron, and something else, I forgot. Clearly I should also be taking gingko biloba, my memory is atrocious.

Eating out in London all the time does get expensive. I cook most of my meals and have a weekly 'theme' where I buy a lot of the same ingredients, which means I end up eating variations of the same thing all week. It's a great way to save money and I also enjoy the repetition, it's an anchor of calm in a stormy sea of stress.

This week it was pasta. Chopped garlic, prawns, plum tomatoes, chili, and infused olive oils (basil is my favourite) takes ten minutes to whip up. Just throw everything in the pan and pot and let it cook itself. Perhaps I'll simplify it even more and give Martha Stewart's one pot pasta recipe a go?

While waiting I feed Coolio the hamster.

In addition to his Supahamster dwarf hamster harvest (with freeze dried mealworms for protein!) he snacks from a selection of *takes a deep breath* sunflower seeds, melon seeds, dried papaya, dried fruit, dried flowers, fresh vegetables including broccoli, kale, baby spinach, and lettuce, hamster chocolate drops, the occasional cornflake, hamster yogurt drops, hamster honey drops...to say nothing of the vitamins I mix into his water. Damn it feels good to be a gangster hamster.

If I'm eating at home by myself I must read or watch something! Short stories and poems are perfect for meals.

10:00 am

I plan my work for the day.

It could be anything from graphic design (rare), illustration (the bulk of it), blogging (more like a hobby, and constant), and 'other' (quite a bit of it).

What my desk usually looks like. Haphazard.

What I wished my desk looked like. Artfully arranging my tools for Cass Art's 'Make A Splash' 50 Watercolour Challenge. It's quite the challenge, watercolour is not my forte and also finding new things to paint (not for lack of ideas, more like pinning down a single idea). But it helps that I sometimes paint the things on my shopping list. It gives me a clearer idea of whether I should buy it or not and also helps them materialise in my life.

I think I might have my heart set on Jasmin et Cigarette and Serpentine for my Spring fragrances. They certainly look good on (watercolour) paper.

My easily distracted self wanders off to other tasks such as packing for holidays. Here is my suitcase for Cuba, dumped unceremoniously in the guest room. That's what guest rooms are for! As well as for taking power naps (can't do it in my own bed, far too comfortable) and stashing DIY projects I've abandoned halfway. 

Like my new mirrored bathroom cabinet. Oh God, here's an especially 'duh' moment. I assemble the cabinet frame, and after two hours of blood (I sliced my finger open on a pile of broken glass thanks to the IKEA delivery people carelessly dropping the package containing the shelves), sweat, and tears, I get so excited about the prospect of finally having somewhere for my mountains of beauty products that I fill the shelves.

Before even mounting the cabinets on the walls. Or putting in the doors.

After filling it up I realise that I am left with a skeleton of a bathroom cabinet, now  weighing a ton from many shelves heaving with tubes, bottles, and jars of potions. Half my ensuite floor is taken up by this behemoth and I just couldn't face taking everything out again. So for many months it obnoxiously occupies the entire floor of my ensuite. I have to lean over it to use the sink, and sit on the floor, next to the toilet where I left the cabinet whenever I'm beautifying myself.

Last week I had enough, and finally mounted the damn thing onto the wall. It even has doors now.

At last the dream is now reality.

It only took about 3 months of painting my face sitting cross-legged on the floor, my back against the toilet.

I cleaned out, threw away, and gave away a lot of beauty and hair products but am still left with this. One shelf devoted to skincare. Two for moisturisers. One for hair. One for nail polish. Double rows per shelf, mind. Take that, Damien Hirst.

11:00 am

I hit the gym, for which I have many outfits for...not because I am especially athletic but because sportswear is just ridiculously comfortable. It's all I ever wear at home if I'm not expecting company. Glamour? Hahaha, it's all a lie. Busty women know how wearing sports bras on long flights and trying days is so much easier on the back. Here's a secret, I wear them under certain outfits to minimise my bust and make my silhouette more streamlined.

12:00 pm

Sometimes I pop by and check in on my neighbours, like this crazy one here...

...my fellow painter, gangsta rap lover, and big booty ho.

Or I trawl the galleries and shops on Redchurch Street for inspiration.

Another reason to love living in Shoreditch, Etat Libre d'Orange.

Undecided about whether to make Jasmin et Cigarette my scent of the season, I bought samples (£3 each) of these...

...Encense et Bubblegum is really growing on me. I'm loving the 'Madonna and whore meets Nabokov-emulating Catholic schoolgirl tease vibe'.

12:30 pm

Tea time number 1.

Nothing like nibbling on squares of chocolate and sipping coffee while reading about yourself in your favourite magazine on your iPad.

1:00 pm

Lunch time!

A salad of tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil.

Again with the reading while eating. Childhood habits die hard.

1:30 pm

I love opening my post after a meal, there's something so satisfying about following up a gratifying act with one of even more reward. Unless said post are bills, then no, that's just harshing my marshmallow.

Nice things to receive in the post are things sent to me by companies and brands to try, especially when picked by myself! Triangl swimwear asked me to choose one of their bikinis as a gift. I chose the Indy Holli Hyde.

I'm surprised that it fits me well and supports my errant bust, usually they try to break free at every opportunity. For this reason I don't wear little bikinis. All my bikini tops look like waterproof maternity bras...from the '50s. But Triangl does the job. Their live chat advisor was very helpful and figured out exactly what my size was (Top: L, bottom: M) for a perfect fit. Consider me impressed.

It's not always about me though. My reader Amber sent Coolio a present all the way from Prague...! 

A hamster sized crown, sceptre, and orb. With a letter that said 'Hail King Coolio!'

Thank you, Amber!

He loves it! I think.

I've already planned to taxidermy Coolio when he inevitably passes on (if you must face the impending, natural death of a beloved pet, do it with style) and I might just have him wearing his regal swag, like so...

...you'll make a beautiful work of art, Coolio! Mummy loves you. Why does everyone find it so disturbing that I've already made plans for him after his death? I'm a realist. This is how I learn to accept the inevitable.

2:00 pm

Ok, back to work.

4:00 pm

Tea time number 2!

Tea is hummus with roquito peppers, sunflower seeds, feta cheese, and some other fancy deli stuff (not that fancy, it's Tesco's Finest) on seeded roll, and whatever tea I can find in the larder. At last count I have about 25 varieties of herbal tea, but just three types of English tea (only for guests).

I drink about five mugs of herbal tea as part of my daily water intake of two litres. It's very easy to keep track, I order two litre bottles of water and make sure I finish it by the end of the day. I've become an expert of pouring just enough into the kettle to make tea and coffee. 

Me, to Jay: "I've quit tap water!"
Jay: "That is the best thing you've ever said."

Look who else is also having a tea break!

Although a break from what, I don't know. All Coolio does is eat, sleep, dig tunnels, chew things, play with toys, shred tissue, run on wheels. Max thinks Coolio is a waste of an existence and never fails to remind me.

Max: "What has that hamster done with its life? Has it written a book? Contributed to society? Lead a nation? It's the most pointless creature ever."
Me: "He exists to be cute and fuzzy, two qualities you sorely lack."

6:00 pm

Damnit, stomach, I fed you two hours ago, stop asking me for more food!

Fine, you win.

More pasta, with green pesto and some peas thrown in for texture.

It was awful. Never again. Peas should only be consumed as petit pois stirred with pancetta, or mushy peas with a hint of mint. Or slipped under the mattress of an unsuspecting rival princess.

10:00 pm

I finally finish work.

Not that I'm badly organised, but because I tend to start my day late so that I can enjoy things like the gym, strolling, lunch, and shopping in the weekdays when it's less crowded. Spare me the claustrophobia of the after work crowd, or worse still the weekend shoppers.

I like nothing more to spend my evenings in alone with a book and documentary, or the company of a good friend, my hamster, a heaping pile of cake etc. but sometimes my attendance is required at an event. Which is a fancy way of saying 'If you don't leave the house once in a while, everyone will think you've died. Or worse still, decide you're irrelevant.'

When that happens I am tasked with getting dressed. In actual clothes, not gym wear, pyjamas, or my Pikachu kigu. I dream of the day when cartoon character onesies are appropriate public attire. Until then, I suck in my gut and fantasise about getting an Uber home at the first opportunity so I can throw my Spanx off and slip myself back into moth-eaten fleece.

Mine and every woman's conundrum; having no space in the closet, but nothing in the closet to wear.

For somebody with such a minimal collection of clothing and shoes, it's understandable that I am always stumped about how to dress. Or perhaps I lack imagination. But how is it that there is no space for anything?

There's still two cases, a trunk, and a dressing table filled with accessories and handbags in my bedroom.

Also...how many pairs of shoes do most people own? Some people I know have as little as ten, some hundreds...what is the median figure? I have 40+ pairs in London (and maybe two or three in Kuala Lumpur, haha) but despite not wearing all of them regularly I still never have any shoes to match my clothes with.

12:00 am

For India and Nichole's 'Summer of Love' party at The Scotch of St. James the invite said 'bring nudity, long hair, and flowers.'

Two and half out of three isn't too bad, I suppose?

Making a point to take more outfit of the day (night) shots by the stairs.

I'm wearing Linda Farrow, vintage, and H&M clutch.

12:30 am

On our way to Scotch.

Henry is trying to tell Diana the story of 'Herbert the tree' but just keeps messing it up with hysterical laughter.

The story is just too funny, we always end up in tears whenever we try to tell it!

I have voice recordings of him telling the most fantastical, funny, and dark stories, or maybe they just seem special because of his storytelling talent. Henry has a soothing, hypnotic voice made for radio! Am trying to persuade him to pursue a career in voice work. Until then...should I release pod casts of  him reading (original) stories like Mr Squid and Mr Polar Bear, Of Church Mice and Egg Boxes, and Herbert the Tree?

1:00 am

Finally, we make it to Scotch.

I catch up with friends and acquaintances, and make new ones too. At Scotch you can always expect the same regulars to show up and somehow also meet new and interesting people, in a cozy, familiar, (although a little cramped) environment. Nightclubs should be this; a home away from home where you can pay someone else to throw the parties and just let everyone show up on their own. 

3:00 am

Now that I'm old and weary I can't stay out all night with the young 'uns, so after only two hours I sneak off home. But not before detouring at my favourite late night dining destination, Duck & Waffle.

Or as Nichole calls it 'Dick & Waffle' and 'F*ck & Waffle'. Naughty, naughty!

Where else in London can you dine, at any hour of the day or night, with a view from the 40th floor?

I always end up here after a night out of drinking and dancing. I've only ever been once before midnight, with Luxy!

I was beyond ecstatic to finally have, after two whole months of going without, my favourite duck egg en cocotte! It's all I ever order. I can't go more than a fortnight without eating it or I get seriously upset. Truffle and duck egg soldiers, can you understand?!

Oh my God it's a quarter to five in the morning and typing this is making me hungry. Do I wake Diana and demand she come with me to Duck & Waffle?! Will she hate me for it? Probably...but I could bribe her with some of my duck egg en cocotte*.

*No I won't, I want it all for myself.

5:30 am

Bed time with Mr Jingles. I mean Coolio. And his trainer.

Today is a Monday, the start of a new week, and I'm more than happy to do this all over again. 

This is my Posh, Broke, & Bored life in London.


Good morning!



  1. Daily life's just everyday sights and bores for everyone (except maybe Beyonce?) but I suppose people follow blogs to experience how others live and there is no better way than a simple & honest "this is how I spent my day" with lots of pictures. Cmon, everyone likes pictures. Be it books, recipes or blogs! A close-up lens helps to avoid showing people how messy you really are and that's why I'm not doing it :-D.

    Besides, I'm still chuckling at the Royal Coolio art. Fabulous. Have you considered an oil painting of him on a throne?!

    1. I do like a tight crop for that reason! Real life is messy, hectic, and not particularly photogenic. But I suppose suffering from realness is not the worst illness, haaaaa? (Jay-Z reference haha)

      I did ask Max to do a portrait of myself and Max seated on a throne, like how nobles pose with their hounds, but he said that it doesn't count for a portrait if it's a pet you can fit in your pocket. -_-

      Coolio says thank you for the gifts!


  2. Don't try the one pot pasta. It's not worth it. I did and something went horribly, hideously wrong. You could turn the one pot upside down and nothing moved. It could be because I used gluten free pasta though as I was feeding friends and that always has extra starch in it....

    My husband was a little creeped out when I told him I planned to taxidermy him when he dies (if he goes first), have him on all fours and place a sheet of glass over his back to turn him into a coffee table. He thinks I'm joking....

    The neverending clothes conundrum. I own 1.75 closets, 3 drawers, a side cabinet and 60 pairs of shoes and still have nothing to wear. Or rather nothing I want to wear that reflects adequately who I am at that particular moment in time.

    More of these please! Loved this post
    Becs x

    1. Interesting about the one-pot pasta! I did wonder if it was too convenient to be true...

      Oh my God your taxidermied husband idea is AMAZING. I've always wanted to donate my body to Gunther von Hagens for plasticination when I die so that I will live on to creep out generations to come! Henry's story 'My Squid and Mr Polar Bear' is about just that!

      60 pairs of shoes is very respectable. And you nailed it on the head about clothes having to reflect who you are that very moment! So perhaps we are suffering not from lack of imagination but rather too much of it.

      I'll do more 'reality' posts, I do enjoy them, glad you do too!


  3. AnonymousMay 14, 2014

    Oh no, I made one pot pasta and it totally worked! I now make it all the time - it's a fun trick if you have a guest for supper and want to do something incredibly simple but ever-so-slightly show-off (NB: they need to watch or there's no point). I was not expecting it to work AT ALL but it did. The starch released from the pasta (which would usually be thrown away with the cooking water) adds a lovely velvety coating. It'd be good with peas: I've done a tinned salmon + various chopped green things version here: http://marleyzelinkovasmith.wordpress.com/2014/03/07/one-pan-pinterest-pasta-with-salmon-greens/

    And I adore the watercolour of King Coolio!

    1. I love peas! I'll definitely give your recipe a go one weekend! Thank you! x

  4. that zara jumper in ur closet! amazing taste, you!

  5. I just looove your home, it looks so pretty! A new fan of your blog as well. :)

    1. Welcome! Hopefully more home decor posts to come. x

  6. I love your body! I love your cozy little home!

    I love you!! As a person heheheh