take me to the moon

What a way to start a Sunday morning ...

I'm self-evidently referring to the fact that Saturday became kind of an all-nighter.

Trying to sleep around 2-3 showed out to be mission impossible. Instead it was me, the sky and bird twitter outside my window. It was us against the world until 6 o'clock. At that time of the day we had had enough. Exhausted of all the coolness (there was an open window involved) it was good night. For at least 3 hours.

Breakfast time. Sundays at 8.30-9.30. Dude, you don't want to miss it. It's weetabix (or cereal of your own choice), milk, raisins, all kinds of coffee or one kind of tea, juice (this morning it was even apple juice; something was seriously wrong, it looked like pee).

There is toast, sometimes straight from the toaster, sometimes not that newly born. And wait - there is jam and that marmite-thingy all British people seems to like (if not try, at least google it, it's disgusting), butter and peanut butter. And ! On weekends there is even chocolate spread and instant hot chocolate.

You got it. I go for some cereal, a glass of water and buttered toast.

I’m meeting up with M at Shepherd’s bush at 12 for a day at the mall. Just like ordinary people do. Walking, looking, touching, laughing, talking. Some coffe, great toilets, not much of actual shopping - after all. This Westfield place is huge. Like a spaceship (with Louis-Vuitton and Karen Millen).

We finish up, taking a walk round H&M. It’s a fact, H&M outside Sweden is nicer, tidier and neater. The staff seemed to actually be enjoying themselves.

I haven't been to H&M for ages. About time?

It was a nice surprise. I don’t usually like H&M.

And yes. There was a boy.

Smiling, dressed in a Mikey Mouse-sweater.

Cute.

Made my day.