Lately I've been making a concerted effort to think positively. This is quite tricky as I'm naturally an 'every silver lining has a cloud' sort of person, and goodness knows there are plenty of clouds in my life right now. Not just wispy little pink-tinged numbers either. We're talking huge storm clouds of unemployment raining fat drops of poverty on my life, with thunder and lighting thrown in for good measure. See how well that positivity thing is working out? Seriously though, not even the most hardened optimist can claim that poverty is fun, but what it has served to show me is how incredibly kind-hearted and generous my friends are. Last night I went to a meeting at a pub, with every intention of nursing a lemonade all night. In the event though, people declined to acknowledge my refusal of drink offers and I wound up getting absurdly drunk for a Wednesday night. Likewise, tomorrow I'm off to an event I would otherwise have missed, thanks to the generosity of the lovely friend who insisted on buying me a ticket. I'll get through the night on water and on the contents of the hipflask I'll be stashing in my cleavage. Classy.
Speaking of the event tomorrow - it has an 'underwater love' theme, and I will be strapping myself into a green corset and foamy skirt, applying copious amounts of silvery face and body paint and lashings of pearl jewellery to turn myself into a nymphy, mermaidy, anthropomorphic representation of oceana type thing. All very lovely, but the bus ride through Brixton could be...interesting. I spend more than my fair share of time in fancy dress on public transport, and it never ceases to amaze me how the Londoners who religiously avoid eye contact and never ever speak to people on the tube, suddenly want to talk to you (and even sometimes have their photos taken with you) just because you're dressed as a pirate/bondage panda/oversized pink carebear.
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