The weekend, before and after my outburst but not including it, was good. Fridays in media-land are always relatively quiet. Whilst we often set ourselves those Friday afternoon deadlines, a lot of our clients and other agencies have already started the weekend. When you work across all sorts of stakeholders, it's pretty likely that most of them will have some prior engagement on a Friday meaning that response times are slower. It's useful, though, as it means us busybodies can catch up, tweak things here and there...and even (gasp) take the sacred hour for lunch. Which is what my boss and I did. We started with tasty salt and pepper squid, then followed with rich and moreish roasted butternut squash and sage butter ravioli. After work, I caught up with my housemate and another friend to take advantage of happy hour cocktails-and-champagne. From there I flitted to a friend in East London, before heading home...and making the melodramatic mess of myself.
Sunday, whilst we took advantage of the fleetingly sunny weather and spent the afternoon at our local, Pub On The Park, commandeering several tables, several Bloody Marys and watching the world go by, my cousin's boyfriend happened to win The Grand National. At the age of 23, riding his first National having only recently returned to racing, and with odds of 66-1 (that, super frustratingly, I was too scared to bet on) Ryan beat all the favourites to be first over the finish line. (The next day, he fell at Hexham and was rushed to hospital but he's recovering and back at home - talk about the rough with the smooth.)
And as a treat to myself, I may have accidentally just bought the much-coveted polka dot smock dress... Cute, right?