Southbank

As we all know, it has been the most glorious week. The skies have been clear and the sun bright. Granted, it has been a little chilly outside of direct beams of sunlight, but it has been the sort of weather which makes me smile to myself as I'm walking, which in turn means that people smile back (they think you're smiling at them, it gets a bit awkward if you don't actually know said people, but hey, it's sunny and so smiling is nice)

And yesterday I enjoyed the sun in the best possible way. I'd finished work, and was planning a rather mundane afternoon of walking home, waxing (bikini and eyebrows) and packing (for my HOLIDAY!!) and then an early night (starting work at the dreaded hour of 4am).

And then Mini rang. And was in Waterloo. And I was in Waterloo, and so it was too good a coincidence to pass by, and we had to meet. Now, if you do not know Waterloo, it is a maze. You only have to look at the vicinity to get lost. There are exits and entrances hidden away, there is the Eye and the bridges, National Theatre and Royal Festival Hall, the river and some grass...

I am smug in my uncanny knowledge of the area. Poor Mini was not. After 20mins I finally spotted her (she was wearing red, and I suddenly got a sense of being part of a real life, giant Where's Wally). I was on the balcony outside The Royal Festival Hall. She was down by the water. We finally managed to both be on the balcony, with chilled glasses of white wine, sunglasses and a direct view of the river and the sunset. Perfect.

The North part 2

So last night I made my first journey into the unknown part of North London - Stoke Newington. Now, believing that I would be leaving all that I know and love, I prepared for the journey as any good traveller would - a book, drink, snack, Uggs (for long distance walking) ear-muffs, and especially re-charged my phone in case of emergencies.

So I got on the tube at Stockwell, preparing to get off at Finsbury park. I promptly fell asleep (a skill that has been perfected over months of erratic shifts) and woke up.... at Finsbury park. A mere 20minutes later.

I then came out of the tube, got some cash out (in case there were no cash machines in the black hole, alternatively known as Stoke Newington) called Mini, got some nonsensical directions, that culminated in getting the 106 bus.

So the journey still had the opportunity for the epic proportions I'd anticipated. But approximately 7minutes later I was at the stop next to her house. And I had arrived. Just half an hour after I had left. It takes me that long to get to the other end of the high street in Clapham.

Her flat is beautiful (except for the building site literally behind her house - it causes very little hassle as the hours of operation are a very considerate 8am-4pm monday to friday) and cheap (due to said building site). And it was filled with old friends. The kind that need no explanation for anything because they just know. And despite not seeing them for months, and one having got a new job, and another having been to four different continents since the last meeting, and one fresh from an 11hour flight from Hong Kong, give it 30seconds, and we are back to being at school, and nothing has changed.

We eventually left the cosiness of the flat to explore the wonders of Stoke Newington Church street - The Three Crowns was first. Good atmosphere, decent drinks, limited seating (unless you were eating, which no one was - so 15 free tables in the "dining area" and about 30 people jostling for standing space in the pub area - but we had a table so were happy), and a bit on the loud side. Fine for a night out, less ideal for a catch-up.

So we moved on (first stopping at a cash point - yes they DO have them!) to the Gold Bar. Which may become my new favourite place. Music but not too loud, beer garden, small interior, but somehow there always seemed to be just enough space, wonderful Caiprinhias and White Russians (Sophia's tipple of choice) and prosecco on tap - the way to any girl's heart. At least, any of my girls.

Obviously by 2am it was clear that I would not be faffing about with night buses, and therefore the epic journey home was a no go. But with a flat as big and nice as Mini's, sofa cushions and duvets was more than perfect for a sleepover.

And the best part - after a lazy breakfast and tea and chats and more tea and more chat it still only took half an hour to get home.

Maybe I shall be venturing North a little more often.... that is, if it'll have me.