Daydream

I need to stop sleeping in the day. Daydream reveries partially induced by Murakami, partially by the fact it is pretty much inevitable if you lie on your bed with a book. The Wind up Bird Chronicle this time. I made it fifteen pages in before drifting off. Thats not any kind of comment on the book, more a comment on how cosy my shockingly thin mattress actually is and how tired I must have been

Another list for the week

Achingly hot, vague resemblance of a tan line, ensuing pride (you need to understand just how pale I am), kew gardens, sun dappled fields and plant meadows, roaming geese, ducks and the occasional peacock, that really good but expensive lemonade that comes in a can, so good that obviously i can't remember it's name. Flatmate fun, drinking, dancing and another three o clock in the morning pasta session. Sloane Square, Newspeak, Saatchi, massive paper and cellophane sculptures, one in a pastel blue that looked like a massive wave, clunie reid's collages and prints on aluminium, black abstract paintings, a tower of speakers and a self playing piano, getting a bit excited seeing mat collishaw having a gander through (with a burberry bag draped over his shoulder no less). Richard Wilson's 20:20. I think it was love at first sight, especially on overhearing bemused american tourists wonder where the smell of oil is coming from. Amazing art shop that sold pigment in massive jars and held etching tools within tiny drawers, almost like an apothecary, British Museum, Italian Renaissance Drawings, awe, da Vinci's advice to an apprentice, 'draw and don't waste time.' Catch up gossip in Starbucks, £2.95 on something that wasn't worth it. It never is, I will never learn my lesson. Royal Academy Degree Show, a ridiculous amount of postcards picked up to adorn the walls of my room next year, Lydia Carline's prints being the most beautiful thing in there (though it was a close run thing), Mr Whippy, being caught off guard and so going to Hampstead Heath sans Murakami and sans bikini. I made do with Glamour and a paddle until I saw the tadpoles. Les Miserables matinee, Eponine, being offered a box of maltesers with one solitary little chocolate ball left, falling into the trap I always do after seeing a musical in that I believe I can sing, eating at a diner with a jukebox that has got me back into motown in a big way, royal albert, pimms, trivial pursuit, my favourite question being 'Who had her toes sucked by her financial adviser? HRH Fergie'. Every day is an education.

This isn't really as much a list as it is a Jack Kerouac type splurge. I do love London.