Story time

So I have been super busy – but here is a belated story about thing to do in London wrapped up in a little tale.

I am so tired, too tired, I don’t know if I can go on – this is too much – it’s way too much to ask of one person – I don’t know how anyone could be expected to do this – especially someone in my condition.

I was out Christmas shopping with my best friend and I had heels on for goodness sake.  This girl was a masochist.  This girl was also my best friend.  But come on there were limits.  I had been out for 5 hours now.  One shop after another, after another – then back again and because it was so much fun the first time.

I like to order online – it’s pain free (well, until you get the credit card bill) and it’s devoid of horrible stinky changing rooms, the clothes they send you don’t normally have lipstick smears all down them and when you can’t fit into that size 10 no one but you and your mirror knows.

My friend had it all wrong.  But then she would never not fit into a size 10.

My eyes wondered back to the cake store.  This is why I sometimes didn’t fit into a size 10.

Jolie called my name.  Again.  Apparently she had been screaming my name for some time from the fitting room, needing a second opinion…..why I am not quite sure – it’s not like she bothers to listen to me.  She’ll buy what she wants anyway…..actually it might be nice if she just bought something – 5 hours of shopping and not one shopping bag between us – this was getting beyond pathetic.

When I called Jolie out on this she huffed and threw the dress she was going to put back onto the cashiers counter and glared at me as she handed over her gold card.

‘Happy now’ she snapped.

It was definitely time for cake.

I steered her towards the cake store, stomping and moaning.  Until she saw the window display ‘Oooooooooo…..can I have a lick of yours?’ to anyone else this would sound weird- to me it was usual.  Jolie was a model.  She was gorgeous.  She barely ate.  No one is perfect though ay.

So I sat their stuffing my face whilst she looked at my cream swirl with longing.

I smiled, pastry and cream everywhere.

‘Dawn, you are just gross.’ Laughed my best friend.  She always knew how to make me feel good about myself.

‘I’m done with shopping here, let’s go somewhere more fun.’

I rolled my eyes – I knew she meant more shopping and not to the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park – I had even tried to convince her all other tube lines were down and that was the only place we could get too, funnily she didn’t fall for it.

She didn’t like my suggestion of the southbank either.  It was followed by a noise and ‘People! Too many people.’ She didn’t care for the german market, the lovely hot chocolate or the roasted brazil nuts, couldn’t care less about the street performers, the only thing that had her swayed was the fairy lights but then she had plenty of those at home.

We tried the ice skating at the national history museum and that ended up with me twisting my ankle and almost calling a halt to the Christmas shopping expedition we were on today.  Jolie of course crashed into the most handsome man and ended up going out for drinks with him that night leaving me to suck on salted liquorice (who, why?) at the Finnish pop up market.

I tried in vain to get her to the London Chocolate Festival but yeah – you remember me saying she’s a model – that went down well.

Then I saw the sign of all signs – The Crick Crack Club’s Festival of Fairy Tales for Grown Ups.  Now how was I going to sell this to Jolie.  Fairy Tales and men rarely went hand in hand, I could say it was a story reading for grown ups but even I wouldn’t go to that and I was the book worm.  Maybe I could sell it on the crack club terms – well she is a model – they do drugs right?

I sighed.  I saw Jolie looking at some shoes.

Stroking some shoes.  A man’s hand.  Hey up this was a bit forward.  Then I saw it was Jimmy.  She could not stay away from this ars…..oh her ex boyfriend.  I had to keep my feelings about him to myself because every time there was a crisis and every time they split up I went to say what I felt but then two minutes later they were madly in love again.  He was a pig and I hated him.  My best friend deserved so much better but she saw something I didn’t – and not just him with no clothes on which thankfully I didn’t ever see, no I never had, no that time I barged into their room not knowing they were together has been erased from my memory, blocked out from the horror.  I saw nothing and that is the story I was sticking too, although maybe it gave me a hint as to why she kept going back to him – but that’s Jolie – rather fickle at times.

I sighed.  Then smiled, now I could go to this Crack Club by myself….oh, that bit didn’t sound so fun…..I quietly crept away.  I looked back at the cake shop.  One more wouldn’t hurt…………..

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