The weekend dissected

This weekend has been pretty relaxing and drama-free really, just how I like them!

Yesterday mainly consisted of a spot of shop work at Westfield Stratford (don’t you just hate it when you work for a retailer and they think it will be a good idea for the head office staff to work in a store for a day? Here’s a clue: it’s not a good idea). Those of you who have visited Westfield Stratford will know that on Saturdays, particularly when it’s close to Christmas, it goes by it’s other name: hell. After four hours working the shop floor I had big plans to meet The Boy and hit the shops for an afternoon of retail therapy, but sadly this was not to be. Every soul in east London and beyond seemed to have had the same idea and the centre was packed to the rafters, and due to an extremely poor design layout (Westfield take note) shopping in any shape or form, without murdering numerous shoppers and sales assistants, was out of the question. So after a quick trip to Kurt Geiger to pick up my free bracelet (thank you Elle magazine) we hit the road and headed back to Kensington for a relaxing evening in front of the (imaginary) fire.

This morning saw me up bright and early (miracle for a Sunday I know) for a spot of housework. Tidy house, tidy mind and all that. The bedroom seems to have become a dumping ground for any items that don’t really have a home in any of the other rooms, and as the bedroom doubles as my office, this was my main task. Boring I know but needs must. Following a shower and a pop tart The Boy and I headed to Hammersmith to do the shopping that we didn’t get to do yesterday. Hammersmith is not my favourite destination for a Sunday stroll, mainly due to the many colourful characters we always seem to encounter, todays highlight: a big issue seller who first meowed like a cat and then snorted like a pig when we walked past. Ok then. But anyway, it has the shops we needed so off we went, taking in our local cemetery on the way (weird I know but it looks pretty in the autumn).

Shopping was successful, even if The Boy would not let me buy some silver Christmas stocking hangers that I’ve had my eye on in Tkmaxx. It’s OK though, I got him back by buying lots of tree decorations. Our house is going to look like Santa’s grotto I tell you. I also hit up my favourite charity shop and picked up the perfect dress for my graduation ceremony, an amazing little black number from Reiss.

Lunch was a roast, obviously, with a glass of wine and the papers in a local pub. Pretty much the perfect Sunday afternoon, apart from burning my mouth on a roast potato: my greed for food strikes again.

So now for an evening of trashy TV and fashion magazines whilst The Boy is at a comedy gig (I don’t like comedy gigs, they’re just not funny) before an early night ready for work tomorrow. Monday’s are the worst. But still, three day week for me and that can only be a good thing. Who knows I may even open a bottle of wine (only the bottle in the fridge tastes like a mixture of vodka and gin so maybe just a diet coke).