What an eventful few weeks!
Two weeks ago, a flamenco class at the Barbican saw my excessive stamping (an attempt to impress the rather scrumptious workshop leader) give me a damaged foot that has yet to heal. A&E confirmed no bone breakage but the limp is refusing to budge for now. Needless to say, the workshop leader remained unimpressed, particularly when I failed to keep up with the introduction of arm movements to go with a footwork routine. I stayed at the back, pretending to help the little children. Remedial flamenco for one?
Then, a flurry of activity on my dissertation left me slightly winded but rather smug, right up until I hit a wall of writers' block and my tutor refused to answer emails.
Not to worry, I just baked.
And baked.
And baked.
It wasn't all for the boy, although he has been attempting to make some pretty impressive dents in the leftovers.... No no, this was for the fete. A blinding success considering the noxious weather, which managed to hold off all morning until completely calling off play at the respectable time of 3.30pm, by which point we'd made over £1500. Absolutely incredible considering the fine drizzle that interrupted us on occassion... You can see more photos here, and read up on us in the local press here.
More recently, it has been a busy few days at the Barbican working on their fabulously inspiring children's poetry in schools project, culminating with the Can I Have A Word gala tomorrow. Dropped into the Panic Attack exhibition on my lunch break, to be suitably shocked, hurrying to the shop quickly after to console myself in pretty handmade cards and jewellery, picking up an engagement card for my happy friends, who have finally done the deed on their annual pilgrimage to EuroDisney. I'm sensing a themed wedding: perhaps a red and white spotty dress a la Minnie would be the way forward?
Final week of dissertation bashing until Sunday, then a week in the sunny/windy/remote/cloudy/rainy/isolated/peaceful/rural Anglesey awaits.
So in need of breathing space it's untrue. Will bake me a storm, put it in a tin and drive with the Boy for 8 hours. I can't wait.
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