Tragic. Romantic. But. Pretty. Scrummy. Man.
- I think the replacement cafe on Piccadilly has become the place. Especially because the super friendly guy who cleans up cups and plates from tables asked me if I wanted another tea. Normally you have to queue for that. So yes I wanted another tea, he delivered it at my table which was filled with papers, words, scenes and pink handwriting and I paid him with money and a big smile.
- Sunday I met bloglily for a tea and a chat. I like meeting people behind the blogs I read and it was a pleasure meeting her. I apologize to her for taking what seems like hours to explain what my feature was about (I so need to do a pitching course), but then she was the first person I actually told it to (besides my classmates and Sam). And I just could not shut up about it, which is a good sign I guess.
When she asked me what I was going to do the rest of my Sunday I said I was going to watch a movie. Which one? Oh, ahem, a movie called D.I.R.L. She asked me if it was OK to join me. Of course it was. And yes I heard her laughing a lot so I think she liked Dan In Real Life too. It was the fourth time I saw it, in case you were counting.
- I also found (or rather a good friend showed me) the perfect place for a fast (but not fast food) meal before theatre, cinema or just when you feel like it: the Stockpot on Panton st. They serve no nonsense British food (yes bangers and mash but they also serve things like spaghetti and minestrone and desserts like apple crumble with custard – which is good!) in a very “THE Cafe” like environment. It is cheap so don’t expect anything “in a bed of” but it tastes good and the staff is very friendly. Very recommended!
- Talking about scrummy men:
The man who was heard to tell the waiting cameras at the Globes last year that the sight of the red carpet and all the posh frocks merely made him want to get back in the car and go home. (that’s my man!)
Because isn’t it supposed to be about films and actors who delivered worthwhile performances in a film? It is not about red carpets and who bloody cares about fashion anyway.
I am fine, really.
- And last but not least: I am going to attend a concert with Tina Dickow in a church in London. Funky.