Where does the phrase "sick as a dog" come from, I wonder?
Yesterday I made an attempt to provide Jess with a birthday treat, which was not exactly a success:
. poppies, fish and chip emporium of great renown, turns out to be a massively mediocre experience and another nail in the coffin of "trusting the opinions of hipster bellends who clearly don't known the difference between good food and merely 'not shit' food".
. the cafe was apparently closed, which is annoying because vintage emporium is usually reliably good.
. it kept raining at the city farm, where we met what appeared to be a post-traumatic sheep, some sheep who wouldn't stop fighting, some donkeys who were mostly fighting, and a pig who wouldn't say hello. there was also a cat who did say hello, mainly because he wanted to go inside out of the freezing cold and thought we could achieve this for him.
. while the experience of wiltons (london's oldest restaurant, fine dining, etc) could have been good, i was struck down with food poisoning (from, i think, breakfast) halfway through, completely lost my appetite, and proceeded to spend all night worrying that i had cholera (most of the same symptoms) until i barfed in the sink at about 2am.
on the plus side, i had several nice hot chocolates, and a chocolate orange melon pan cake from the japan centre which was so nice that it made me upset because it was all gone when i finished it - filled with gooey paste and surrounded by something like a giant, curved doriyaki, with a crispy crust. amazing stuff.
(unrelatedly, being misgendered all fucking night when i'd made a concerted effort to look as masculine as physically possible wasn't fun either).
now i am still sick, have had to cancel my therapy session, and have just had to block a friend on social media because they're being snide and passive-aggressive about me not liking tumblr's obsessive belief that women can do no wrong.
LAST Thursday I got knocked down by a car and it was still a better day than this one is shaping up to be.
. poppies, fish and chip emporium of great renown, turns out to be a massively mediocre experience and another nail in the coffin of "trusting the opinions of hipster bellends who clearly don't known the difference between good food and merely 'not shit' food".
. the cafe was apparently closed, which is annoying because vintage emporium is usually reliably good.
. it kept raining at the city farm, where we met what appeared to be a post-traumatic sheep, some sheep who wouldn't stop fighting, some donkeys who were mostly fighting, and a pig who wouldn't say hello. there was also a cat who did say hello, mainly because he wanted to go inside out of the freezing cold and thought we could achieve this for him.
. while the experience of wiltons (london's oldest restaurant, fine dining, etc) could have been good, i was struck down with food poisoning (from, i think, breakfast) halfway through, completely lost my appetite, and proceeded to spend all night worrying that i had cholera (most of the same symptoms) until i barfed in the sink at about 2am.
on the plus side, i had several nice hot chocolates, and a chocolate orange melon pan cake from the japan centre which was so nice that it made me upset because it was all gone when i finished it - filled with gooey paste and surrounded by something like a giant, curved doriyaki, with a crispy crust. amazing stuff.
(unrelatedly, being misgendered all fucking night when i'd made a concerted effort to look as masculine as physically possible wasn't fun either).
now i am still sick, have had to cancel my therapy session, and have just had to block a friend on social media because they're being snide and passive-aggressive about me not liking tumblr's obsessive belief that women can do no wrong.
LAST Thursday I got knocked down by a car and it was still a better day than this one is shaping up to be.