It’s raining outside, and I’m eating pancakes loaded with blueberry with coffee for breakfast. It reminds me of university days when I used to make french toast for me and my dorm mates while it rained on weekend afternoons. It always made the food taste better.
Yesterday, I went shopping at Oxford St. After lunch, I noticed that I splashed pasta sauce on my white shirt–which was probably nature’s way of telling me that my clothes do not go with my braids. So I was forced to change to the pink dress that I just bought from H&M (and it really went well with the braids).
When I was rushing to catch the train at the Piccadilly station, the doors slid shut and squeezed me off to the platform. But my bags remained inside! I stubbornly held on to it because the lovely purple bag I got for Mom was in there and I couldn’t bear the thought of strangers looking through my just-bought M&S underwear, hahaha. I panicked and mouthed HELP and the doors opened. So I jumped in. After the train left the station I realized that I WAS ON THE WRONG TRAIN.
Dammit. So I alighted and just walked all the way to the National Gallery. And that concludes yesterday’s exercise.