Sunday, 21 June 2009

mornings as they should be

I'm a sucker for Sophie Kinsella's books, an avid fan of becky bloomwood of Shopaholic fame and I've just finished this one curled up in bed on a Sunday morning with the sun streaming through my window. Bliss. Well, bliss apart from deciding in my infinite wisdom it would be a great idea to go and cheer on my moon walking friend ( Now this 26.2 mile extravaganza was scheduled to swing near my flat so I thought why not, she's walking the marathon, least I can do is drag myself up and walk half a mile. Plan. Not so much, misjudged all the timings, got up at 3.30am, got to the top of the road only to discover that they'd all long since past and they were clearing away the road closure cones. Ah ha, mobile phones have been invented so I ring moonwalker and she does indeed confirm they are now on the other side of the city. So I made my back home dodging all the party animals (read: ever so slightly tipsy souls teetering back home after a hard night). As I stumbled through the door and into bed, I caught a glimpse of the sun just starting to creep up and that glorious glowing sky that comes with it. I guess I should thank my lucky stars, it's not every day a taste of an African morning is on your doorstep. After all the naturey ponderings, I decided, in my substantially better wisdom this time, it was time to go back to bed. And so I started reading Kinsella's latest number (as seen above) and promptly scoffed it much like a good old bar of Dairy Milk (minus the calories...score)

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