193. Limo for the Ladies

16th August 2014, West Kensington to Battersea, London


We've all want to try it at least once whether or not we're willing to admit it.

I'm talking about limos folks. And not the classy, Grace Kelly-esque kind, but the pink monstrosities that are the hen do limos.

And now it was happening. We figured that after all the class and sophistication that formed the first part of the Camel's hen do, we could get away with the tackiest means of transportation known to man kind. And finally I got to ride in a glossy pink 9 seater complete with hen do banners, bride-to-be balloons and L-Plates! Every girls (and secretly most men's) dream.

Finding said limo was surprisingly not a very easy task. In the end, I had made about 20 odd phone calls to various limousine companies pleading with them to please let us have a limo. Maybe just a little one then? Maybe if you make that other group of girls walk like normal people? Pleeeeease?

After bringing myself to the edge of frustration, I found it. In Essex. Now there's not a surprise.

I wound up speaking to one extremely patient and helpful man who I've decided to call Joe. Primarily and only because I wasn't listening as he said his name. Joe spent a good 15 minutes describing the exact shade of metallic baby pink of the car to me and at the end of the longest conversation in his life he had somehow thrown in extra bottle of champagne and a bunch of freebies I am fairly certain he never intended to chuck in. Good old Joe.

Following our accidental hen do at the Camel's local, we managed to get inside her flat to make ourselves look pretty, drink some more champagne and carefully dodge any questions from the bride to be with regards to the upcoming events of the evening. Now telling is not fun is it?

Ten minutes ahead of the set time of limo launch we get the call to say the driver, whom I also decided to call Joe, was a few minutes away. At this stage we were all getting rather excited and giggly (that last bit may have been champagne related) but did our best not to cause suspicion. We failed miserably and had a rather nervous (and also giggly!) bride on our hands.

As soon as she got outside though, those nerves were gone and we were back at that laugh and the repeated squeals sounding something like 'OH MY GOD!' The Camel must be the best subject to surprise there ever was, nowhere else can you get that level of excitement and happiness. And this is why we love her.

Without a doubt, this was the most fun, and expensive, car ride of my life. Again, it may have been champagne related. You're not allowed champagne in black cabs. Or most other cabs. I've tried.

It was basically a party on wheels. Music, glitter, balloons and a fair bit of sit-down-dancing. We could have easily continued the party in the limo for hours to come, but settled for circling Central London but once and I don't think Joe minded just getting an hour in with our lot. There's only so many 'more champagne!', 'more music!', 'more faster!' a man can be expected to take from an overly excited hen party. He handled it well though. Very patient breed those Joes.

Soon that was it. We had arrived and were ready to let the last and most extraordinary segment of this party commence!

At the very height of excitement.

Our very own mobile night club!

192. That Local

16th August 2014, The Curtain's Up, West Kensington, London

I love visiting other people's local pubs. The grubby ones, the posh ones, the hipster ones and the dirty ones - I love them all.

The Camel's local is no exception, I've heard plenty of good thing about the place. However, it may have been preferable to attend said pub under different circumstances.

Planning to go to the bride's house mid hen do to get ready for the night seems like a safe bet right? It's not weather dependant, not down to unreliable opening hours and there's definitely going to be curling tongs there. Unless someone forgets the keys.

Upon our discovery of the non key-having situation, we did not give into disappointment. We did what any reasonable grown ups would do and arranged an impromptu party on this West Kensington doorstep. I even used a trash can as a table for the champagne. That's called being resourceful.

The party came to an end though once we realised that it would take the hubby-to-be an hour to come let us in and people were starting to look at us funny. Some people were bothered by that. I just thought we could invite them along to our party on the stoop.

So we went onto the much talked about Curtain's Up around the corner, with all our champagne bottles and snacks in tow, only to find we attracted just as many strange looks there. It's OK, at least I'm used to it.

As far as locals go, this turned out to be a truly great one. Super cute and quirky with fashionably tattered armchairs, striped walls, bunting, big beautiful Victorian windows and everything else that makes a classic and brilliant English pub that was once upon a time how I fell in love with my new home town.

On top of the prettiness of the place it had an excellent wine selection and if I knew anything about beer, I'd say that selection wasn't too shabby either. As it stands, I know nothing about beer and therefore I wouldn't take my word for it, but the bottle labels sure looked cute.

After a few drinks, the hubby to be - who probably scored some serious boyfriend points - shows up with keys for all of us and kisses for the bride, which was the end of my very brief visit to the Curtain's Up.

I have a strong feeling I'll be back however.

191. One Helluva Do

16th August 2014, Orangerie at Kensington Palace, Kensington, London

The time had finally come for the Camel's hen do! My dearest three-apples-tall, Oprah loving, always sees-the silver lining Camel who is about to become a Mrs Someone!

Following the standard London style run about of cancelled tubes, picking up champagne and getting lost in the park, virtually all us attendees were finding ourselves late. Obviously that mean the bride and Barbra the Bride's Maid decides, for possibly the first time in their lives, to be on time! After arranging a stalling of the bride, we were soon all gathered to greet her at the beautiful Orangerie at Kensington whilst she was getting furious with said bride's maid for stopping mid way to redo her make up and look at the flowers.

When I say all of us were there waiting for the bride, that means almost all of us. Now, she was excited enough as it was upon meeting parts of her current and former London crew outside the Orangerie. But when she enters the dining room and also finds Sweden crew there, that caused the loudest of her trademark 'OH MY GOD' squeals I have ever heard.

Once the lovely lady had calmed down, cried a bit, laughed her signature laugh and cried a bit more we proceeded to the great afternoon tea one can only get at the Orangerie. And with that we'll always have the fact that at least the day started in a classy manner!

After the lovely tea and champagne and scones and finger sandwiches and cake and cake and cake, we proceeded to Kensington Gardens for more champagne, and impromptu cork shooting contest (OK that was mainly me) and the classic Mrs & Mrs quiz which the bride-to-be obviously aced.

With this fairly sophisticated start to the day, we were off to the next section of this epic hen do, of course deemed to be a lot less elegant.

Bring on tacky!

Who's there?

OH MY GOD!!!!!

One very excited lady!

 

Off to the next mischief!

190. Good Karma

15th August 2014, Karma, West Kensington, London

There's something about travelling from Brick Lane to West Kensington for... Curry.

But it wasn't just the Indian food making me agree to the long journey across town. My trusted wine lunch pal, Barbra, who has spent the last two years living her life on the beach is finally back in London town!

Ahead of the killer bash that was to be the Camel's hen do, we decided to celebrate our reunion with gossip, Indian and, of course, wine. Possibly a bit too much wine considering the festivities planned for the next day, but hey, if bride and two bride's maids seem OK with it - who am I to decide against the idea?

Following a few pre drinks (wine) with Barbra and attempting to sum up 2014 in the time it takes to drink a glass of Pinot, we went on to Karma. And it turns out that unlike the curry houses down my street on Brick Lane, the Indian Restaurants in West London are somewhat more posh. Now that's a shocker for you!

Whilst waiting for the Camel to get out of work me and Barbra had the loveliest appetizer platter I have ever had in an Indian restaurant. Get me right, the appetizer platters in East London does a lot to fix your hangover - but this one actually tasted like something aside of grease and starch.

And there was also the fact that their wine list stretches beyond white, red, pink and Cobra beer that made this place appear a bit more classy than those with the neon signs around the corner.

Finally upon the arrival of Camel, I got to try what was probably one of the best curries I've ever had. Now that doesn't necessarily say a lot, I am not good with spicy curries and will usually order things with names like King Prawn Coconut Delight - something I'm being mocked endlessly for. But this time I was actually a bit daring and ordered a lamb dish with actual spices in it. And it was lovely! Granted, I ate it with peshwari naan which is the sweetest thing there ever was - but I still think it's an accomplishment.

Soon, the second bride's maid also made an appearance fresh from Spain and at that stage I realized the world could learn so much from us. There we were; a Swede, an Arab, a Jew and a British Indian, a lot a wine and even more love, putting our differences aside and focuses on positivity rather than negativity. And quite frankly, our little universe at the table of a West Kensington restaurant is one I'd happily live in.

And on that philosophical note - bring on the hen do!

Doesn't look like much, but so worth a visit.

189. Running Wild

9th August 2014, Strängnäs, Sweden

Running in Central London isn't so bad...

There's a certain charm in killing your knees on paved streets whilst trying to dodge the post-stabbing forensics team and someone's 3 AM kebab the second time around.

So with a bit of returning running motivation I decided it was time to get back into proper running, as in, in the woods. And seeing as my hometown is literally in the middle of nowhere, it was a good enough place to start.

I had completely forgotten how relaxing running in actual nature can be. All the greenery, end of summer flowers, birds singing and I even spotted a roe deer on the path ahead of me. It was basically like I was the Disney princess wearing striped lycra and me and my animal friends were about to break into song any second.

I didn't really sing though - this wasn't East London where that behavior is condoned.

Plus, 6 k into the woods me and the roe deer were no longer pals. As I'm running around a corner, minding my own business, the damn thing jumps out of a bush like it owns the place and the collision is a fact. And whilst that conniving Bambi creature happily jumps along to do some further flower munching and hanging out with her bunny friends or whatever it is roe deer like to do with their spare time. Meanwhile, I limped back the remaining 3 K with my leg covered in blood and dodged the emergency room but never the less spent the night at my cousin's getting myself taped up. (Yep, in my hometown all us cousins live in the same neighborhood. It's more cute than disturbing most days)

It turns out, that running in the woods is no safer than running in Hackney.

It's like they even try to encourage people run in this town!

 

Collision victim.

188. What Makes Summer

7th August 2014, The Harbor, Strängnäs, Sweden

Nothing says summer like having ice cream in my hometown harbor.

I will usually make an effort to go home once every summer and a visit to the harbor for an ice cream treat is mandatory. So obviously it went on my list as one of those childish treats that may not be the thing a 30 year old should be excited about. Chances are that I still will be, but I won't take any chances with such important matters.

In all fairness, my one ice cream in the harbor this year have turned into 20 or so following my lady of leisure status and my much more frequent visits home. But I'm OK with that.

Of course, I had to bring my most trusted buddies with me for this very last harbor ice cream in my 20's. Although according to my sister, they're getting spoilt after a summer of daily ice creams and regular visits to the Land of Rollercoasters. But guess what - if you make two girls that amazing, their auntie will give them just about anything they ask for. She also has herself to blame. Well, and her husband I guess.

So following lunch on the town with these lovely little ladies and their granddad, we went off to the ice cream stall. And when I say we went off, we were dragged there by the 8 year old diva that is my youngest niece following her announcement of; 'There. I have eaten lunch. Several bites. We can go get ice cream now'. I do wonder where she get's that behavior from?

After two chocolate scoops with chocolate sauce and chocolate sprinkles, another two scoops of salty licorice and skittles ice cream (I know, can't understand it either) and saffron ice cream for the supposed 'grown ups', I found myself with two princesses on a sugar rush. Like the kind of sugar rush causing kids to be running around the harbor square at a speed that would have made both Coyote and the Road Runner jealous. I may have brought this on myself.

However. Sugar high children is a consequence I'm willing to accept in this instance.

Yeah, these two are a bit special. Extra special.

After sugar rushes comes the sugar comas.

187. Around the World in a Gazillion Days

4th August 2014, Brick Lane, London

I really should have adored Around The World In 80 Days.

After all, I virtually live at Mr Foggs, I love travelling in random ways to random places and I kind of enjoy living in the past. So in theory I should have enjoyed the adventures of Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, Fix and Aouda. If only their adventures had not been so incredibly slow.

See, I've been through the plot before - I had the kiddie version when I was little and it was rather exciting. Turns out, my childhood book contained all the exciting bits and that would take my parents' 10 minutes to get through. Whilst I started reading the grown up version in the Caribbean 5 months ago. I get that it was written in the 19th century but come on! Chop chop Mr Verne!

Each and every character of this book is truly at a whole new, or very old depending on how you see it, level of annoying. An OCD snob, a flaming thick servant men, an even thicker police force and a feisty heroine who at least seems to have a grip, until she marries the OCD snob and makes herself the thickest of them all.

Nope, from now on my only interaction with this lot, will be by sipping fancy cocktails in Mayfair.

Now this a version I can get onboard with!