As it is Lent, and therefore as a (good) catholic i have given up something I normally do a lot- in my case drink coffee, I am sufferring immensly. At the start I thought I was fine, didnt need coffee, "I can go withouth my daily cappucino", and afterall, who really needs that Grande Cafe Latte every time they walk past Costa, Starbucks or Cafe Nero?
Me. That's who. Me.
40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS. Im in agony, its actually hurting me, Ive learnt alot about myself these past few weeks and that is, mainly, I am an addict. Coffee, although a milder substance is actually my addiction and to be quite honest- after evaluating my random spazms every time I pass the coffee houses on Bold Street I have come to the conclusion that I am a caffine junkie.
However, seeing as it is a Sunday, and apparantly you are allowed a little bit of what you gave up on a Sunday, I have consumed a glorious Cappuccino and one medium roast of good, rich coffffaaay. And i have to say, after my likkle fix, I am feeling much better- if a little guilty...
Anyways, concience cleared.
I was looking for a jumper before,after I'd finished music practice and seeking nothing that pleased me in my own wardrobe I ventured into the parental boudoir. Normally i just grab an old jumper from my dads workwear pile, but as i was looking, something caught my eye. I often have these little epiphanies when Ill suddenly see something rather ordinary and suddenly it will flash across my mind as part of an outfit. Not claiming to be on par with the likes of Karl Largerfeld like, that would just be pretentious, however what Im eluding to is that when I saw this little tatty tan-brown fleece weeping in my mother's wardrobe, I had a birrof a brainwave.
Wadda ya think? Its pyarrr warm and cosy, so even if you are repulsed I do not care. Im in love....