I’m Wicked and I’m Laaaaaazy

I really can’t stop singing that tune from the kids at X-Press 2 with that nice Mr David Byrne. Really feel like it’s an anthem in the making, if lacking a heavy enough dance beat. Although I have to say that as I sit in this easyInternet cafe on High Street Kensington I find it hard to remember any music with the pop-tastic crap they’re pumping through the speakers. Still, at £1 for 93 minutes you can’t really complain can you.

On the subject of internet cafes – this is now my third console. The first one seemed sensible but was right by the toilets (so everyone walks past you and sees what you’re writing, the second had no headphones and this, the third, is right underneath one of the aforementioned pop spouting speakers. Sense that a fourth console would be in order if it wasn’t for the fact that logging in and out now would move my charge rate down to only 82 minutes a pound!

The lack of constant access to a broadband Internet link has definately affected by diary entries. Apologies to the few people who actually read my random witterings (a big shout out to my mum and Quodnunc HR there). I also don’t feel like I have anything really interesting to say, but since when has that actually stopped me? I also feel a bit embaressed that having left New York to go travelling I’m still in London with no ticket bought and no real impetus to do so.

The question becomes – why did I want to go travelling? The answer, after much pondering, is ‘turtles’. When I went to Puerto Rico last year Tim and I ended up on a small island off the north-east coast called Culebra. This island, consisting mostly of gorgeous sandy beaches and few people, was where I spent one of the best nights of my life watching leatherback turtles laying their eggs. I hadn’t come to see that and I certainly hadn’t expected it. It was wonderful though, so now I want more ‘turtles’ in my life. Trouble is, cool unexpected things are hard to plan and my tendancy towards control freakism gets in the way of randomness like that.

So, I’m still here and Glastonbury tickets have sold out. Arse.

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