Last week Exeter wasn't Exeter without my family at Number 10 Longbrook Terrace, so this week Brian and I made another road trip - much to his disgust and I think my credit card groaned at being shoved into a chip'n'pin machine at yet another petrol station.
It was quite possibly the most unorganised weekend ever, and it was well deserved after what felt like a week worth of Monday's. A lot of laughing and a lot of wine, and even more food. My first ever Calzone, my first ever pub lunch in Windsor and my first ever on- screen 'moment'.
Surbiton has an ATM vestibule ( Essentially just the foyer of a bank which is still open – nothing to exciting and yet PRIOR to any alcohol I found it , like... totally amzing). And just like the episode of Friends when Chandler gets stuck in one with a model during a black out, I got ‘stuck’ with Mr S. Musical … while he took money out from the machine.
It was ruined however, when I tried to explain the importance of the vestibule and the woman by calling her a Veronica’s Closet model….
His blank face said it all.
He thought I was a loon.
He quickly (but it could have been speedier to save my embarrassment) realised that what I actually meant was Victoria’s Secret. Obviously.
It became the source of much amusement. Unfortunately.
I drowned my stupidity in wine, olives and garlic, cheese and a really good Pizza pasty – a calzone.
Just a quick note for all you Calzone virgins? ... share it with a friend. That’s a lot of dough and a helluva’ lot of filling. Luckily little Miss BeachBreak was on hand!
But with my Uni family around me, it felt like I’d never left. So the surroundings may have been a little different, and we were celebrating newfound employment rather than the bonus of a maintenance loan, but the company was still the same.
A little trip to Datchet, Royal Berkshire to visit a certain Miss Brazil fresh back from her Thai travels who couldn’t attend our little pizza night. We planned to feed some very hungry ducks, however the lack of stale bread and a chorus of rumbly tummies meant we decided to seek food for ourselves. It was a very hard to decision to make. And I apologise to those little quacking animals. You looked at me sailing past in the car with such hunger and desperation.
Lucky for them I saw a group of small children laden down with bags of bread. I assumed they’d be feeding them. Unless five year olds enjoy stuffing their faces with slightly mouldy Kingsmill.
When you’ve had a flat week, it’s those little poorly organised reunions that put a little smile back on.
I don’t have a reunion next week – just an appointment with the hairdresser. She shall be turning my hair orange. Oh god.
But I’m sure I shall smile underneath the grimace.
NB I would also like to pass on a heartfelt message of thanks. Florence, (of Florence and the Machine fame) you were part of the reason I missed my junction and took an exceptionally long detour a few weeks ago, but my friend, this week - this week you made me run a full three and a half minutes on the treadmill. You are brilliant.