It’s Saturday morning here in Los Angeles and once again, I’m blogging from my hotel room. It’s my last day on work-cation and I’m going out with a bang ~ the one truly scrumptious junk food addiction, KyoChon Fried Chicken (the other KFC).
Doing it the American way, I’ve been indulging in the not-so-healthy gourmet delights of this vast country over the last week. I had the obligatory In-N–Out Burger (which is every bit as simple and tantalising as I expected) and will have KFC today, but before either of these, there was Pizza Port.
Me and pizza and beer for dinner. Can you just imagine.
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It’s been getting colder over here in London-town. The weather teased us with tops in the high teens a few weeks ago, but these days it’s a steady 10 or maybe 12 degrees celcius on a good day, 8 on a bad.
In light of this, I’ve been happily wearing my boots every day for the past fortnight. I love the cosy feel of having thick socks around my ankles, but even for those things I love, I do grow tired (caveat: bf not included).
While it’s been cold, it hadn’t rained (til now), so last Friday I tossed my boots aside (oh who am I kidding, I’m a neat freak, I stuffed boot fillers back into them and placed them neatly back in their allocated spot in my wardrobe), put on my new Nine West flats and headed out for the day.
Being the first day in two weeks I hadn’t worn boots, it rained. It rained and rained and it was seriously like god was saying f*** you, here’s some rain to fill up your flats, hah.
Only god probably wouldn’t swear. But he would laugh at me.
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We’ve already established that I’m really lazy when it comes to travelling around London. I stick to Zone 1 like an overgrown amoeba, but it’s not that I don’t want to travel outside of Zone 1, it’s just that I hate the tube. And I dislike the buses. So unless I can walk there, I ain’t going there.
Curiously, this dislike vaporises when it comes to food. Funny that, huh?
So when Donna Margherita’s PR guy (Jamie Fox, and believe me I was beside myself when I thought Jamie Foxx was asking me out to dinner) contacted me offering a complimentary meal, I first recoiled at the idea of travelling out to SW11, but with all the fabulous reviews I’d read about the place, I soon found myself on the top deck of bus 87, careening precariously down the never ending road towards Lavender Hill.
And yes, I did just write a paragraph-long sentence.
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Let me back track four weeks, to the start of May, when we took a quick weekend trip to Rome to battle our vitamin d deficiency and to inhale as much gelato as humanly possible. It was my second trip to Italy; last December we dropped by Milan enroute back to London and to say I was not impressed with Milano food would be an understatement. But everyone tells me different about Rome, so good ol’ Roma had a lot to live up to.
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