Shredded Knees, Quasimodo & Perspective
Yes, it was delicious. Did nothing to help my throat but was the perfect antidote for my woe and self pity.Last night I had popcorn, peppermint tea and a Milka Daim for dinner because I was too tired and phlegmy to cook anything. This morning, the sun woke me up and that is the only reason I came to work. My boss made me some Lemsip and even that hurt to drink. I had strep throat not too long ago and it was so bad that I now live in abject terror of getting it again. Worry, thy name is Stereo.
The Cure For A Thursday

And yes, I do know that it is Monday.
The following happened to me last Thursday:
- I woke up and paused for a moment. I rolled over onto my side and said to myself “I feel like something terrible is going to happen today.”
Copenhagen Photo Diary

This past weekend, I took advantage of Bank Holiday Monday and a Friday off work and visited my good friend Nanna and her boyfriend, Rasmus in Copenhagen.
Back to Basics
Just before she flew off to her fabulous new life in New York (miss you, T!), my friend discovered my blog and asked me about it. And as I do when someone from “real” life finds this little slice of the internet, I baulked a little and did a mental rundown of the things I have written here, trying to remember if there is anything of which I should be ashamed.
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

If the above is true, then all of you should be head over heels for me by now.
I kid, I kid.
But I have been gone and because I cannot write out everything that has happened in the past month (wow, it actually has been just over a month) I have put together this handy bulleted list of things to which you can refer:

Stereo. 20-something aspiring bon vivant. London based. Exceptionally Nigerian. Partial to snark. My default setting is "wry". Jeans and blazers are my uniform. Landlady. Speed reader, tuneless singer, hoarder of words, drinker of Schloer; I am suspicious of most people, have zero tolerance for tomfoolery, have a vast DVD collection, worship at the altar of Al Green, own too many bottles of nail polish, have small eyes, small ears and giant hair and owe approximately 86% of my awesome to the Parents Typewriter.
Want to know more?
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