All the pretty girls go to the city.

It always interests me to see which of my posts are being read on any given day. Yep. I can see that :) Also, where they are being read from. Like, who do I know in France right now? And Africa? Never even been there. I sometimes read the post titles and need to click on them to even remember what they were supposed to be about and, in doing so, what I discover is that I used to write a lot more. Like, A LOT. I guess I have been working more lately which, unfortunately, leaves me less time for the careful planning and execution of the elusive blog essay post. But actually, as I am writing this I am thinking that this may also have been a deliberate change that I made to please some of you who have commented that you tend to look at the pictures more than actually read what is written. You know who you are.

Furthermore, I seem to be experiencing life so quickly these days that I barely have time to process what I have actually been living, much less write about it. Therefore, I just end up writing about the weather a lot. Or about how busy I am.

I could do this again today. Trust me. There is plenty of material there for it. I could write about the sudden arctic revival, during what are meant to be the early days of spring. I could write about how I had to walk in a mild blizzard to work on Saturday. Shouldn't one of the few perks of the British aversion to snow be the extra snow days?? I could also write about how despite having only one client to meet with last Wednesday, I somehow couldn't manage to finish any of my outstanding session records for this month. Or about how I am in London every day this week - for work or otherwise - and at the end of it I am supposed to be prepared for a two-night stay and a wedding in Devon.

But I won't. Instead I will write about how nice it was to have our friends over a couple of weekends ago. I will tell you that their culinary contributions were divine and their entertainment suggestions perfectly amusing. I will write about the birthday party we went to on Saturday, where the theme of "Dream Job" was stretched to the limit, with people showing up as everything from butchers and airline pilots to a "fancy man", and Mario and Luigi.

Mexican Wrestler and Fairytale Princess - maybe you think this costume is a convenient cop out and that this isn't really my dream job. But just ask my mom. She'll back me up.

I will also write about the wonderful, and hugely filling, meal we consumed tonight in Whitechapel. This place was like nothing I have ever seen before. A three-floor curry house, built for large parties, and yet your food is out almost before you've finished ordering. Also it was real tasty. The meal was a send-off for our friend, Phil, who is leaving tomorrow morning for three months of travel, followed by three months of....(?), before returning to his newly arranged, and fully reserved employment in the fall. *grumblegrumblesonofamumblegrumble* No, but really, bon voyage.

So, yeah, I guess there is stuff to write about, but attempting a post like this at midnight when I have work in the morning is probably not the best idea. Oh well. It is done.

Love.