Living from weekend to weekend

I've just read back the last few posts on here and I've noticed that, like many people, I'm living from one weekend to the next with very little inbetween. Even in the summer. Any posts that I've made during the week are whinges about how boring my job is and how much I dislike which ever of my supervisors is pissing me off that day.

I should be making the most of my evenings, meeting friends in a park, or going to shows at the globe with my boyfriend, but I don't. I've gone back to the pub job so that's Wednesdays and Fridays out of the equation but on the evenings when I'm not working I seem to go home and clean. My new hobby is washing up-or pulling out the cooker/fridge to clean behind them, or re-organising the cupboards (cleaning them as I empty them, obviously).



Shit. I'm turning into my Dad.



I like nothing more than the satisfaction of a clean orderly kitchen side or a freshly made bed and I've always had a weird obsession with washing and washing up. I seem to spend an unreasonable amount of my life hanging socks. None of this would make a particularly good blog post. (So I'm sorry about this one).

I work and clean. That is my life. It will be worth it when I can buy a house outright and spend my evenings in my own garden and my weekends walking along the Pembrokeshire coast.













Additional: I've just booked two tickets to see 'As you like it' at Shakespeares Globe Theatre. After all, for the time being, I live in London. One of the most interesting, busy and cultural cities in the world, I might as well make the most of it until I retire to the countryside.

My new friend

There were a few mistakes, a few light things to do and a bit of indecision that wasn't all mine for a change.


Phew, what a weekend it was.



Friday I went out with a friend of mine from the pub that I work in, we drunk Ale from Sussex and chatted. It's nice to get to know new people and Jon is one of the people that I'm genuinely interested in, rather than someone that I'm forced into knowing and have to tolerate (certain colleagues, friends of friends or friends of family members). The only real problem here is that the only time I've spent with him has been when I'm serving behind the bar or when we're both on the 'correct' side of the bar and then we get shitfaced. We both seem to enjoy the really strong pale ales so drunkardness sneaks up on us. And Jon does a disappearing act after a left hand milk stout. It's one of the things I like about him as I've been known to just leave once I've had enough-I'm not big on goodbyes when I'm drunk, they usually lead to sloppy kisses and the classic "You know you're my best friend, hic" or " I really love you man!" And it seems that even when I'm beyond remembering my own name I just know that this is not a dignifyed thing to do so I sneak off too. We had another of those nights that ends in me playing pac-man chasing a take away curry around the kitchen floor because Mark's put it on a plate but I'm too drunk to lift my head off of the floor so I push the plate forward with every bite I attempt.



Saturday we went to Ricmond park-WOW it's even prettier than I remembered, we saw the deer, the first time was from a distance, and we tried to get pictures with our phones and although we could see them quite clearly the camera picked them up as about 3 pixels on a screen of green and blue (The Rigante colours). Still it was a magical sight. We walked on through the park and came to a lake with a bench between it and an overgrown meadow so we sat and had lunch. Saw some beautiful blue mayflies and inspected a really ugly insect that landed on my ruck sack. As we got up to leave we saw the deer again, a lot closer this time and they were coming towards us. Some had anklers and they varied from 1 to 7 pointers, there were colour variations some being quite dark fawn and others quite bright whites. They were all beautiful and the anklers looked like they would feel like velvet to touch. I thought it looked sumptuous, Mark said the feel of velvet makes him itch. I shall put the pictures on here at somepoint when I play with this blog at home. They got closer and closer and I started to get a bit nervous-well they are a bit like small horses and one of them did try to eat me when we were in Wales. So we tried to back off but they kept coming, bloody hell we're beng surrounded by carnivorous deer! It all ended well when I hit one on the head with a digestive. Deer seem to like digestives-who knew?

SLR Film Cameras!

Started the photography craze this weekend, went to the Heath and played around. I don't remember much from my photography module at uni, so it's pretty much all guess work, but I'm hoping that at least some of the pictures came out ok.

We got through half a roll of film each day, but Sunday was by far the better of the two days.



My camera kit is bulky because I made sure I got loads of accessories with mine-bargain hunter that I am. Thus it's a bitch to lug around and I have a whole load of stuff that I don't know what to do with. Three lenses, two teleconverters, various filters (that I don't know how to attach, but Mark held one in front of the lens for me for one shot so I could justify carrying it all day).



Satuday involved getting out of the house late ;) getting a bus that took us most of the way and not finding the area we wanted to get to and playing with zoom lenses to try to photograph a stalk, a comerant and a few baby coots. Leaving the Heath at what we thought was a reasonable time but not getting home before the shops closed. Meaning toast for dinner.



Sunday, however, was wonderful. We found a sunny clearing in the wooded area and sat in the long grass drinking speciality beer and eating a frugal lunch of peanuts, pairs and cheesey biscuits. I wrote a few words in the notepad we were recording our shots in (focal length, shutter speed, aperture, lens, subject).



I got a short but helpful photography lesson from a passer by who was passionate about photography. Unfortunately the only thing I can really remember is that 125 shutter speed is fine when you don't have a tripod. An aperture of 5.6-8 will get pretty much everything in focus and the higher numbers for the aperture will focus further away and low numbers will focus close up-or was it the other way around? I'd drunk both my beers by then (Brew dog Hardcore IPA and Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA for those of you who are interested) and I couldn't take it in as easily as I could have before I drunk them (!)