Friday Fairies

It's Friday and I am celebrating by eating some Dairy Milk chocolate. I break off a square and nibble it until it is melted between my fingers. Then I put the remainder in my mouth and take a sip of coffee, swirling it around to properly taste the delicious mocha combination. I am listening to a compilation CD made for me years ago, and watching the numbers slowly click by on the bottom right hand side of my screen.

This week I have been out for dinner with my Mum, met up with friends for pizza in Soho, done a gig at the Dorchester and gone to see the Vanity Fair exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery. At the Dorchester my pianist and I stood around after we played and sipped Champagne from impossibly delicate crystal glasses. At the Vanity Fair exhibition I marvelled at the photograph of Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes and their daughter. They are sitting atop some wild-looking, windswept hills. He is holding the child and behind him sits his wife, arms around him and Suri. Both Tom and Katie have their eyes squeezed shut and their mouths fixed in identical beatific smiles. The child stares at the camera, expressionless. I'm sure there is a touch of desperation in her eyes, a despair that comes with the realization that she is bestowed with more common sense and sanity than both of her parents put together. The pictures were amazing, but the one that affected me the most was one of Hilary Swank (here, although it is a tiny thumbnail). In the picture she is running, elevated above the ground by the sheer force of her physical and mental strength. Her body is rippling with muscles, but more impressive to me is the incredible focus in her eyes as she looks ahead. I see in that portrait an air of self-sufficiency and passion that overwhelms me. I would like a copy as I found it really very inspirational. The gift shop, unfortunately, was rubbish, and had hardly any postcards, so I must satisfy myself with the memory.

Tonight I am heading up to Manchester. I packed hurriedly this morning after a few glasses of the house white last night, so I am not entirely sure what I have to wear. I vaguely recall putting in a pair of gold stilettos (featured here) but after that my memory fades. I can only hope that I put in at least one set of actual clothes.

I am very excited about venturing Up North again, although I am somewhat exhausted after my week, particularly given that I have been peppering it with some ill-advised early morning trips to the gym. If I wish, however, to fully enjoy the delights of in-the-mouth mocha I must force myself to brave the cross-trainer and the blaring confusions of MTV.

The only other thing I have to say is the following.

I should not be subjected to people snogging on the tube first thing in the morning. It's bad enough to talk to each other when I am attempting to pick my way through the jumble of bad grammar and highly-dubious spelling that poses as journalism in the free papers, let alone suck each other's faces off and rub noses like cute little bunny-wunnies right in front of me. Carry on that way and I will vomit on your faces. Let's see you pash through that.

Ahem.

Have a lovely weekend.