I'm a crispy husk of a man sat before you, after a drunken night at Mango Landin', south Brixton's finest Caribbean-themed pub, saw us usher in J's 30s in some style. Everyone was incredibly generous and on top form, and we eventually made it to bed around 4am. There was only one thing for it yesterday - a hair of the dog and a burritto to soak up the excesses of the night before. Unfortunately, one hair turned into the drinking equivalent of a blocked plughole, and before I knew it we'd been in the pub for 5 hours - or more precisely, been in the beer garden sunshine for 5 hours.
I'm itchy, dehydrated and stingy all over today, which compounded my misery at work after the usual rubbish attempts at a night's sleep on a Sunday. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that it's a 4 day week for me this week; we're off to Normandy on Friday for the extended birthday celebrations.
I'd never heard of Trouville-sur-mer until I googled 'best mussels in northern France' (J's proposal to help us choose where to go), and this small fishing village popped up. A token attempt to research the place later, and I've discovered it's actually pretty famous as being the location for one of Monet's most famous paintings. "The Beach at Trouville", shown above, hangs in the National Gallery in London.
Relaxation is the order of the weekend, and we have our fingers crossed for sunshine. If not though, it'll give me the perfect opportunity to drag J along to see the Bayeux tapestry - something that mesmerised me at the age of about 11, but which I have to confess I'd kind of forgotten about in the past 20 years. Means nothing to J, of course, and trying to explain it to her is similar to her trying to get me all worked up over Grunwald. But I will, hopefully, be able to get along to see it and relive my childhood imagination of the Norman conquest.
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