Just when you think you're having a great day...

You're normally not, it's that simple. Just when you think that you are having a fab day it turns around and bites you in the ass. In fact as a student there is a lot of ass biting! In particular the self inflicted ass biting kind. Good that huh?!


Anyway cue my ass biting (not literally before you start thinking that I need some sort of hound muzzle). 


At the moment quite frankly I am a donkey on the edge. Ajaj has booked his tickets out of here and back to the land of sand, to which I just think absolutely fabulous good for him, totally happy, unbelievably cool about this whole situuu-bizzle going on let me just die a little inside. Ahem. So we spent a gorgeous day in London eating Sushi, people watching and shopping, the things we generally do best. Today however involved some considerable bird poop dodging as the pigeons in Oxford street tried their wings at shit-on-the-shopper (an enjoyable activity to tide their time by amidst consuming left-over burger baps on the street, grooming one another and humping on the Nelson's column.) It's all very funny until you get what can only be described as backsplash on the toe of your clean suede boots. By the way, there is NOTHING casual and Blasé about wiping bird crap, or any kind of crap off of your shoe (even if it is done in a SATC Carrie-esque style) it looked a lot more elegant in the movie. 


So my man and I part ways and I hop onto the 16:05 back to Egham, my choice of carriage sans human beings was soon deemed useless when an old man sat directly opposite me and pretended to do his crossword whilst peering over his spectacles and examining my every move. Honestly, the carriage was empty was that seat REALLY the only one which took your liking? In my head there was then a massive debate do I move and make it obvious that I'm uncomfortable or do I stay hold my nose and pretend everything is fine? My mind is honestly what I (and I'm sure my boyfriend) would call 'reductio ad absurdum' making this man a mass murderer and therefore my life in danger. Honestly WHAT is wrong with me?! I'm sure he had a perfectly lovely wife a home making him a brew and waiting for his arrival but in my head all he had in his house was bodily remains and a chainsaw. I think the ending to this story is obvious. I hopped off of the 16:05 to Egham in one piece and jumped into the taxi home (You don't even need to ask what I thought the taxi driver would do to me...)


So far the day wasn't too bad at all, until I attempted to hand wash a white shirt with my cutesy purple shower gel and shampoo (Possibility brand Amber and lavender)- mental note taken, do this is you want to tie-dye your clothes in the future- not so chic for an evening shift at the restaurant however....FAIL. 


Yours Always,


your Blunderfully Ridiculous L x

And the race is on...

So the beautifully chic and fabulous Chanel is one of many to roll up the sleeves of their fashion fight blazers in the run up to London Fashion week. Chanel spends £4 million on completely dominating the plethora of window displays that make up the shiny exquisite coating of Harrods, negating any opposing fashion house which may accidentally tip toe its way to the top (would they ever!). If this isn't enough my expansive peripheral vision was occupied by Chanel marketing throughout the store and a stunning pop-up boutique in which you can meander in a Chanel induced Coma just dreaming of a day that this could all be yours. And all just prior to the City's most lusted after fashion event- London Fashion Week. Bravo to the Chanel house, you have outdone the rest and possibly yourself....utter genius.