Blue Hawaii.

I would have loved… to get my hands on this very cocktail right now.

Oh how I love Americans (especially from Chicago!)

Second day shopping in Banana Republic – they have some amazing sale items, especially in the jewellery department! Unfortunately, the dresses are still too expensive for the sales items.
Anyway, with the lovely sleek BR bag full of sale goodies, I was standing in a queue in Caffe Nero, which is opposite the BR shop on Regent Street. I ordered frappe latte, and that’s when I heard this North American drawl which always makes my knees week. I turned my head slightly – and yes, there he was, blond, blue-eyed American. Oh I don’t know, he asked me which tart he should buy and whether I had tried any of those, I asked him if he was allergic to nuts, he asked me what I was having, I asked him where he was from (Chicago!), he asked me where I was from and offered to pay for my drink. He was having an espresso. And pecan tart, recommended by me. Strange, but true.

And I got the Caffe Nero extra loyalty stamp as well.

He was cute and nice and a bit shy – just the way I like them American guys!

Memory 6.

It was that night, 12 February to 13 of February, when he and I were sitting outside the tent on the beach, and the sky was dark blue and covered in purple clouds, and then the clouds were gone for a few moments are milliards of stars were scattered above our sinful heads. And for the first time in my life I saw, like drawn in a school book, a Sagittarius constellation, the arrow and the bow, and he saw it too, and it was perfect. We were just sitting there, staring at the sky, in awe.

Longest night.

It's the longest night of the year next week. Who are you spending it with?

Make sure you have spare underwear handy!

I’ve become quite addicted to writing reviews for books and films recently, and sharing myself with my fellow amazon.co.uk customers. And I simply couldn’t resist writing a review for a fantastic book by Chelsea Handler, “Are you there vodka? It’s me, Chelsea”.

I've never heard of Chelsea Handler before, but after reading her book in literally every spare moment past weekend and finishing it at 2AM last night, I cannot stop recommending it to my female work colleagues and girlfriends, sending texts and emails in my work time praising Ms Handler! This has never happened before. Chelsea's humour is amazing. There are hilarious observations on almost every page of this gem of a book, and each chapter (which is also a separate story) has at least two remarks that made me laugh out loud, on tube, in the post office queue, at home, while stirring minced meat in the frying pan (yes, very rarely I try to cook and read at the same time - that's another proof that Chelsea's writing is addictive!)
Once you get past her Jewish remarks and her steady companionship with her vibrator (rather than a real man), you are left with pure enjoyment of beautifully composed and side-splitting stories!

A must have - for a beach holiday, for a morning tube commute to work, for a hangover cure.

Anaïs.

Went to Paul Sandby RA exhibition at Royal Academy, since I am a full time, £80 per annum member, I took Elena. Paul Sandby gave Elena headache and made the two of us extremely hungry. Went to Itsu. Went to Irving Penn exhibition at my favourite National Portrait Gallery. God, I love that Gallery. Surprisingly, did not buy anything at the Gallery shop. Elena treated me to a cup of hot chocolate (the real one) and chocolate éclair (very fattening one, note like the ones I buy at Tesco’s) at the La Maison Du Chocolat. Very cultural day. It's been ages since I had this kind of day.



At the Irving Penn’s exhibition I saw a photograph of that French journalist I haven’t heard of before. Anaïs Nin. Anaïs is such a lovely name. Suggested the name to Nona. She loved it. I think. Fingers crossed.

Dan Sartain.

My friend Annie got us passes to the Dan Sartain show last night at the Relentless Garage. Man, was I blown away. Dan is an amazing performer, his music is raw and sincere and full of feelings. It’s been ages since I saw anything like him. How come he is not dead famous? How come his is not number 1 in the rock charts all over this planet? I guess, he is not into all this, in his Spartans baseball coat.

Anyway, Annie got passes from a facebook friend of hers (oh yeah, there is now a new type of friendship – facebook friendship), whom she met sometime ago at the Black Lips afterparty I invited her to. She was chatting to this American guy and within minutes he was her facebook friend. She is amazing like that. So they saw each other for, like, 10 minutes, but next time he was in London we got free tickets? Exactly.

His name is John and he is from Georgia. May 1981 boy. Boy, was I impressed. I mean, after all, he was a bass player for Mr Dan Sartain. Anyway, beer, water, even bananas in Annie’s case and “backstage” were provided.

We went to the nearby pub after the show, where Annie was refused entry. She went home, we went in. Within twenty minutes of hanging out I found out that last time we met, after saying hi I ran away, and it was Annie who became John’s friend on facebook – why, he wondered. Problem was easily solved there and then.

And then, man, that was sweet. He walked me to the station and we chatted and it was so… I don’t know, lovely. He is back in London in September. I might be in Georgia in October, since I now have “a place to crash” in Atlanta, where he flew this midday.