Good Day vs Bad Day ft pigeon poo

After a somewhat blurry week filled with cancelled trains and snow, I wake feeling fresh and ready to go. And then I looked in the mirror.

Bad hair day, YES just what I wanted. Urgh.

After the initial shock of my bird-nest head, and a few hair pins later, I head out relatively un-phased.

Running down the stairs... (Queue annoying act number one.) *I let go of my phone*  My poor blackberry is going to die, or worse, get scratched. My battered phone finally stops at the bottom of the stairs, right on top of a chewing gum blob. Double urgh. WHY did I do that and WHY did someone spit out their gum on a carpet, despicable.

Hacked off, and dressed like the Michelin Man (bar my kitten heals) I pre-empt a bad day. My first step was actually a skid, by the way.

I arrive at the station, two minutes too late. My train has left, of course. Standing, waiting, freezing my face off I start to day dream.

Pigeons. They are everywhere. I stare at them, eyes glazed over in a feezing daze, feeling very sorry for their tiny round bodies, perched on the slim branches of the tree. A few of them try to perch on a ledge of the platform, but it’s been wired off, poor sods.

Then I visualize one of them flying over me and pooing on me (I’m sorry there’s no nice way of saying that.) “Imagine!” I sigh to myself.

PLOP.

My head is still tilted up mid daydream, and my eyes are still glazed over.

*Moment of realisation* Oh my f***ing god…are you SERIOUS?!

I reluctantly look down at my right arm. PIGEON POO! I actually have bird poo on my arm. Did I just make that happen, on some telepathic level? I just had this coat dry cleaned. RAGE.  Triple urgh.

Definitely a bad day. Definitely annoyed. Definitely have to get a seat on train.

Lunch was nice, dim sum always puts a smile on my face. Not unlike being in a sweet shop really, so many food choices + so much time = happy Alana.

On my way back to work I get a call regarding a visit to a “winter wonderland”. Ice skating, circus shows, hog roast, and hot chocolate. OK, slowly but surely, today is getting better.

THEN I remember my Nonni are back from Italia and I’m going to see them after work, *HUGE SMILE*. Short term gains involve Italian cakes, gifts and loads of cheese. Long term gains involve Nonna’s cooking, ‘C’è posto per te’, (for those not in-the-know this is an epic show on Italian telly) loads of Sunday dinners aka my weight in pasta, cheese and salami and much, much more.

Things look up, momentarily.

Then I get a message. My partner in food-related-crime at the office, who is not mildly as proper as her name may suggest (Charlotte Middlehurst) is leaving.

Charlotte is half Portuguese and half English. She's a crazy hybrid like me, and I love her. I love her for introducing me to decent sushi, (e.g. not Wasabi or Yo Sushi) for her quirky manner, and because she gets it. And more surprisingly, she gets me. (To your right is a picture she sent me today, it made my morning, and this is why I love her.)

Alas she is leaving me, she’s going to Shanghi. On the upside, she’ll be writing for Timeout magazine. Genius. Whilst I am exited for her, I am heartbroken, but perk up as I realise I have yet another pal to visit abroad.

Shanghi, Sri Lanka, Australia and Malawi to name but a few. Imagine how much I will get to see, do and eat.

B.L.E.S.S.E.D

I arrive at the grandparents, after my Nonno jumped out from behind the door at me like a playful kid and Nonna had shouted at me for being on a diet (I am not.)  I am greeted with bags upon bags of food; Cheeses, salami, porcini mushrooms, chocolates...you name it, I had it.

After a couple of hours of village updates and general ramblings like, "You look skinny" and "Do you want to eat, yes come on", I Buckle and stop a little longer to eat some gorgonzola and prociutto, with a big hunk of freah bread. Once the pasta is prepared and ready-to-go in an oven friendly dish, I'm cheerfully packed off back to my little flat, down the road from my big fat family.

Emosh day. Watch this space, and my waistline.