You know one thing I miss about London? Cocktails. Not just the alcohol content but the hour or two post work, with a girlfriend and an unlimited supply of calorific snacks for supper. The breakfast martinis at Cafe Luc, Marmalade Gimlets at Floridita and anything at Purl in Marylebone were the cocktails of choice to whet my whistle post-work.
That hour of decompression before you head home kept me sane in the insane world of publishing. Sending out a 4pm email to The Blonde or The Redhead (my two sisters-from-another-mother): “6pm. You. Me. Hard Liquor” was always enough to raise me above the insanity line.
Now before you call the AA on my behalf no, it wasn’t the fact I needed to get drunk, I needed my best friends, a good old chin-wag about what we’d bought online in our lunch hours and a general moan about men/commuting/work. Same as any other gal in London Town.
Now we’re in the country, although I don’t have those three particular worries anymore, they have been neatly replaced with babies/boredom/being self-employed (NOTE: you may hate your boss but don’t underestimate the comfort of a pay-check). And yes, I do miss the cocktails, I miss perching on a bar stool in heels sipping something delicious. So call me shallow.
This Friday my dearest country friend (we both have one year olds but I won’t call her a mummy friend as she is SOOOOOO much more than that) are heading to the big smoke: Exeter. I have bought a new outfit and everything (more of which later).
You know in Eastenders when they say they’re ‘going up West’? Yep, it’s like that.
There will be cocktails, there will be heels and by god will there be dancing.
Yipppeeeee!
