One Day We Will Die and Our Ashes Will Fly

Yesterday was a day, I think, to be treasured. The kind of day that if it was in a movie would not really be included because it wouldn't have any plot development so instead there'd be a sequence with a condensed version of the day set to a cheerful upbeat song that no one had ever heard of which would consequently spike in popularity as a result of the movie.

So basically went to Jen's house, spent a long time talking to Jen's little sister about Milly Molly Mandy and accompanying awesomeness while Jen practised her flute.

Then headed to Brick Lane, where I spend almost all of the ten quid I had to start with on a oversized denim jacket with a fleece lining, which is lovely, and then after that Jen bought a pair of dark green suede shorts (which are ridiculously Penny Lane from Almost Famous) and a nice blue jacket. And then I bought a crochet top.

And then while having a cigarette/bagel stop we conceived the idea of going to the National Portrait gallery and buying postcards of cool people like Oscar Wilde and Mick Jagger, so we hopped on the tube and headed over to Leicester square, went to the museum, bought said postcards, then got kicked out because it was closing.

And then we went to Trafalgar Square and sat on metal lions for ages as it got dark. And got shouted at by a drunk guy who thought he was the police and told us that we had to come down but haha cos he couldn't get to us because we were high up on a lion. And need I mention that I was wearing corduroy shorts, a crochet top, a denim and fleece jacket, my red doc martins and red lipstick throughout this? I feel so cool. For once in my sad pathetic life.