Le Nozze Di Figaro

Thanks to one of Lynne's more (possibly the most) brilliant suggestions of her life, we went to watch The Marriage of Figaro by the Royal Opera House which was screened live from there to Trafalgar Square where almost 5,000 people gathered. I'm not one for big corporate publicity events, but BP did good to make opera for the masses possible.

It was one of the less frequent times I actually felt happy and privileged to be living in London. I had gone from bursting into tears on Tuesday when I came back here, to really enjoying the crowd and the buzz tonight. It's strange, but I think we sometimes underestimate the extent of influence habit has on us, and our subconsciousness. Nobody likes to be removed from familiarity. What makes it worse is when one inhabits a physical space that constantly changes, that familiarity, once it begins to feel comfortable, simply eludes one's grasp again. It's not really London's fault that I get upset coming back here. Well, sometimes there are a lot of contributing factors. But I think it has all come down to wanting a more settled place I can call home. I've always loved being mobile. But maybe I'm searching for some stability even in this mobility. Never thought I'd say that. But there you go, you learn something new everyday.

It actually felt like summer today – we've been having such shit weather this summer, (no surprise, Britain) I was almost tripping with joy over the sunshine. Lynne and I bought desserts, chocolates and smoked our menthol lights, while watching the opera, eating and drinking our bottle of Cava from true festival-like plastic cups. Classy. But sitting at the foot of Nelson's column watching the opera was such fun, and the performance was amazing to say the least. I wished I was in the Royal Opera House watching it, then again if I were, I wouldn't be able to do everything else.


As dusk fell, the audience still sat there absolutely captivated by the glorious voices of Rosina and Susanna. I wish I had my camera so I could take pictures to send to TimeOut but I didn't. So yet again, I had to rely on my lousy camera phone for pics. It got cold pretty quickly, but the crowd and summer air made it bearable. The setting of the opera got even more lavish, the arias sang were so tender, emotive, yet dramatic at the same time – I don't think I've been a massive opera fan ever but I'm now a full convert! There's another screening on the 7th July for anyone who wants a great, free, cultured night in London.

I hate computers

After typing the longest post I've ever written in my life, my computer decided it was a good time to restart and I've lost all that I've written, so I'm not going to write it all again.

In summary, I've submitted everything I needed to on Thursday, the day of deadlines. And freedom was sweet, although now, it's only Monday, and even though I've given myself a whole week off, I'm finding that having nothing to do is terribly unattractive.

Which doesn't give me a good enough reason why I shouldn't sit here and type out all that I've written before, since I've got not much to do. But fuck it, I'm going to the gym – at least I get to lose weight, instead of staring at damn computer screens again.

Summer

It's 31 degrees in London today and I have been taking two showers daily, I can't close my windows, or even draw my curtains after my shower to dress - simply because it's too freakin' hot.

I know I shouldn't complain - I always moan about the British weather so this is really pure, glorious, sunshine which I should appreciate. Just that my hair is turning into straws from the number of times I have to wash it, and numerous blackheads are starting to find homes on my face, which is only naturally highly undesirable.

Anyway...... this week is the last leg of my work marathon. We're finally going into the last stages in the production of our magazine, which I must say is looking spanking fantastic. Lots of stuff has been going on meanwhile, including riding in a kit car for the first time (which reminded me of the time I went to Pasir Gudang to race with some Honda-crazy driving nuts), getting lots of sunshine in the park, spending time with J's family, taking a boat for the first time out in Leamington (even though I've lived there one year full-time and this year half-the-time), getting very drunk on some weekends and behaving painfully embarrassing, watching the World Cup and generally getting very excited about summer in general, while slaving away at finalising my portfolio and magazine.

This is me and Karl in his kit car which he drove over from Leicester. It was such a wicked car - only 1-litre engine but so light, it was quicker than the Aston Martin J rode in the week before, apparently. I went on a joy ride round the countryside and Karl was having such fun racing on the A roads. The wind swept up to meet my face with such force that my sunglasses was plastered into my skin as bits of gravel and other stuff I don't want to think about pelted me everytime we accelerated. We reached 100 miles and beyond in no time, overtaking all the cars on the road, and we were only this close to the ground. It was so much fun - like being on a roller-coaster, except that in this car, there's a real possibility of crashing (onto the other vehicles in the road) - everyone was staring at us. It was rude [the car], and also very cool. At the end of it though, because I didn't tie my hair, it was blown to a ludicrous volume – the only time I've ever seen my paltry thin hair, well, not looking like a rolled-over mat. This is why, I finally understand, when we watch American films, the babes riding in soft top convertibles always sport a bandana or scarf over their head.

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This is little Abigail, who is 15 months old, and growing ever-so-cute. James actually behaved like a proper uncle for once and didn't teach her anything bad (it's only a matter of time). She was lovely to spend time with – she rolled around the field, walked with her knees looking for hidden treasures, and mischieviously popped a daisy into her mouth. She really looked like she enjoyed it, chomping on it with the first few teeth she's got, and giving us flashes of the mushed-up daisy in her tiny mouth – James and I were alarmed but Matt only turned around to say, Oh it's only a daisy, at least it's not stones or soil [which she attempted to taste earlier as well]. She swallowed it and then looked very pleased with herself. I could only laugh.

We also took a boat up the river in Leam. Finally. We've always wanted to see what was up there. But we only hired the boat for half an hour [we were only allowed it for that time as it was rammed] so we couldn't go all the way. But at least I know what a good part of the river looks like now. It was very peaceful, navigating the little byways and watching the ducks swim past you at an arm's length. There were loads of other people canoeing and James would crack out laughing whenever one of them got stuck near a bank and had to row furiously out to dislodge themselves, thus spraying even more water on themselves (and others around). He was very pleased with the fact that he made the wise decision to hire a motor boat because all he had to do was just turn the handles in either direction and navigate the rudder. What a bloke.

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I'm suddenly thinking of my sailing days and how the sea and beach at East Coast Park used to be my second home – and how I would dread those early mornings, waking up at 6am to go training, which took me more than two hours to get there because I live in the West and the freakin' sailing centre was at the furthest point in the east. And how I used to dread carrying my dead-heavy laser and rig the whole boat up, which took ages and a lot of concentration.

But once I was out there – at sea, with nothing but just me, my boat, the sun, the sky and the wind – I was in a paradise no one could touch. I love the sun. And maybe, that will be the only redeeming aspect of my imminent move away from a country I'm now used to living in.

Still, thank God the temperature's going down tomorrow.

And thank God for air-conditioning.