Summer 16' and everything in-between...

Oh Hello September, and hello a very shameful lack of blogging. But here it goes, the last eight months in ahem eight paragraphs? Let's give this a whirl....

So starting January, and being as depressed by the cold January blues as one can be, I figured the best way to beat it was to leave. And head to the sun of course! Always having had this romantic notion of Sri Lanka in my head I thought I'd follow this notion through, booked my flights, and a week later found myself in Heathrow airport opening the first pages of my Lonely Planet to read up on the place. Spontaneous? Yes. Silly? No. Probably more silly was my decision to get my nose septum pierced a few days prior. And wonder the eve before I was flying to Sri Lanka why it was hurting quite so much. Cue my boyfriend with a pair of pliers on it the evening before I depart for two months. Remove it we could not, so the morning before my flight I ended up in the only piercers open on a Sunday for them to tell me I had been pierced through the cartilage instead of the septum. Ouch. But hey, anything for fashion, right dahhhling? (it's now firmly out for good...)

So I landed pretty clueless in Sri Lanka with my plan of five weeks there, and then heading onto India after. A few days in, and my idea of five weeks in Sri Lanka wasn't quite looking as promising as my romantic notions had been. So I racked my brains for where else I could explore in the world, and then booked to head back to my favourite spot: Ubud. I mean, after the septum incident you have to play it safe sometimes right? So I cut my time short, and spent ten days more days in Sri Lanka trying to see and do all I could. I got fat off samosas for breakfast, lunch, dinner (and snacks); skinny from mountain treks in the dark; made friends with locals on the trains; watched the most stunning sunrises and sunsets; saw baby elephants in the wild; and basked on idyllic beaches.

And then ten days on I found myself back on a plane to my favourite spot in the world: Ubud. A large claim to make I know, and I when booking my return I found myself fearful that the beautiful memories I had made of Ubud would not seem as beautiful when I returned. Gladly this was not so, and when I arrived in the middle of a monsoon downpour with my backpack, unannounced at my old homestay - the grandma came out the house and exclaimed 'you're back!'. And I did feel back home.

Ubud is an amazing place. Known to the Balinese as the spiritual heart of Bali, I strongly believe this. When I am there I feel a sense of calm I can't seem to get anywhere else. And only in part due to the clean eating, pilates and kind people. Even the sun seeker in me wasn't disheartened by the daily monsoon which only seemed to enhance the beauty of the place. A couple of healers and a couple of weeks on, I left to head back the way I had come.

Then India called and oh, it was everything and more than I could have dreamt of. The country is awash with more sounds, smells, colours, people, madness and calmness then your senses can imagine. I found myself falling so easily in love with it. From riding camels through Jaisalmer desert, to watching the stars as we fell asleep, to watching the locals live from a house boat in Kochi, to drinking tea on the side of the roads, to acting like kings and queens drinking in the view of the Taj Mahal from the Oberoi, having each mealtime an explosion on your senses and tastebuds, seeing more head wobbles, envying more Saree's, and searching out the best Indian sweets in frantic markets.

I found the people as fascinating as they found me - the token white girl. People were kind, and given the nature of how poor people are, they're surprisingly generous. India can teach you life lessons again and again. And I know I will always return again and again.

But I came home and became sensible (ish) and acted, for once in my life, like an adult. Cue a lot of blood, sweat and tears (mainly tears and sweat) and me and my sister got a mortgage on a place in Peckham. Grown up, hey. Well, I did turn twenty-nine in June. And a twenty-nine year old needs to act their age. Or make the most of their last year of their twenties? I'll go for the latter.

So off to Glastonbury we headed. With enough booze to take down a small army, and many shoes that just would not survive the mud. Tough mudder when high would pretty much sum that long weekend up for me. That and the feeling that the world was going to end on returning to London. And only part to do with Brexit.

Secret Garden Party came as a vast contrast with England deciding to actually have a summer that weekend. And we basked in our sweat and smiles on the pagoda, dancing away. And the glitter which we so meticulously applied looked so meticulously skew-whiff in the heat. But who cares when you're with your best friends and dancing to Fleetwood Mac.

A few weekends ago was spent in Berlin clubs with best friends, where getting home at Ten AM has never been so acceptable. We all wore black and nonchalant faces to gain entry, and my friends advice to "dress like your walking your dog" worked well. 

Oh and I moved house once again in all the frenzy, and went back freelance again, cracked more phones, lost more bankcards, turned vegetarian (barr that one drunk time in McDonalds with the nuggets), took up gym classes, left gym classes after the shock to the system ripped my ankle ligament, took up cycling to work on my lovely blue bike with a basket (and only singing Corinne-Bailey-Ray to myself sometimes when doing this), shot some more commercials here and abroad, started writing poetry again, got a few more grey hairs, definitely got a few more laughter lines, and learnt to make a pizza #wifeme

And yes I'm aware it's more than eight paragraphs, but hey - you try and encapsulate your year into bullet points. Especially when you love to talk...

Happy end of Summer everyone! 

Emily x

Bali, Boozing and Broken Resolutions : 2015 to 2016...

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and in the blink of an eye I find myself at the end of December, wondering how 2015 has managed to fly by so fast. This year has felt the shortest of my life. London is a rat-race, and my work has pulled me in - jumping from job to job - great I know, but leaving little time to reflect on anything. Let alone keep up to date with this blog. (apologies blog).

I took time out of the rat-race in August. I'd been working 12 hour days, had just come back from Ibiza and felt as if my head was about the explode. Only in part due to the Ibiza fun with 7 other girls ;) I flew to Ubud, Bali to stay for a month by myself. There I gave up alcohol, meditated, took up Pilates, read mountains of books, climbed real mountains, took myself off all social media and all in all just got myself back to feeling well in mind, body and spirit. And I actually felt like that. Until I flew back into London on the Friday, and found myself out on the Saturday night.

And I had great plans for the new me - I really did. I bought a Pilates Mat to get up and use at 6am each day. Warning my housemate that when he was ironing his shirt every morning, I too would be there; practicing Pilates. Two months on he commented how he'd not seen me once.

I quickly got sucked into the late nights again, the long hours at work and treating my body as the complete opposite to a temple. And then after an exhausting stint of shoots, I decided to take December off work so I could catch up with all my friends, attend every Christmas party possible, and well, just have a grand old time here in London. Subsequently my bank balance is a lot lighter, my waist line is a lot heavier, and I'm signing up to 'dry January'. With eagerness. Going out every evening in December has definitely taken its toll, my liver needs a break, and I wouldn't mind being able to do up my jeans again. But hell its been fun.

2016 excites me already. I have plans for Sri Lanka, India, Cuba, and Glastonbury. This is the first time I've ever managed to get a Glastonbury ticket and I'm so excited. My boyfriend was rather less enthused however at my proclamation that I will need two tents - one for sleeping, and one for my wardrobe. I mean it makes perfect sense to me - who wants glitter all over their pillow?! So far he's definitely said no to the idea of a clothes rail coming...

Last New Years Eve I brought it in in Sao Paulo, and the rest of the year has been absolutely incredible. I traveled Brazil by myself, danced in Rio Carnival and won it with my Samba school, moved from South London to East London, threw a festival just outside Paris for my best friend, watched two of my best friends get married, was a bridesmaid for one, spent sleepless nights in Ibiza with 7 girls, ran away to Bali to find my inner-self, found my inner-self in more East London drinking establishments then I can count, broke / lost / drowned 5 phones this year, got 2 more tattoos, shot 12 TV commercials, lost numerous important belongings and dignity, and did all of this while having some absolutely lovely people come into my life who I cant imagine not being there.

New Years Eve will be brought in on a London rooftop watching the fireworks. English weather prevailing that is...

Happy New Year everyone, eat, drink and be very merry!

And bring on 2016!

Emily x

Copious amounts of cakes, commercials and hens : life after Rio...

So I've had my feet back on London soil for a grand total of three and a half months now since Brazil. The 'real' tans firmly faded, the four fillings I needed from Caipriniha overdoses have finally been completed, and my Rio Carnival Costume has safely made it's way across the ocean to reside in my mum's garage.



I've found myself working non-stop on my return from Brazil. Terribly lucky as a freelancer, and terribly needed, as the bank-of-Dad required quite a payback after one's abundance on their travels! I've taken this week off, as a long needed break (and I can already see my sisters eyes rolling at this comment - 'you've worked for three months Emily, big deal welcome to the world of a normal worker!') as it's my Birthday week, and I figured I'd be comatosed by Prosecco and cake for days. (I have been).



I've turned the ripe old age of 28, which means every time I get ID'd (twice this month...just saying) it becomes some sort of youth affirming celebration. And obviously I text all my friends with the great news sporting the hashtag #stillgotit.



But turning 28 hasn't actually been that scary. Infact, its been rather delightful. With age comes I guess more wisdom, (yes, obviously still waiting for mine) but it also can't help but make you realize what matters most in life... good friends, and good honest people. To be surrounded by that is pretty much all anyone can hope for, and right now I feel lucky enough to have that. Plus, I also got five birthday cakes made by five amazing friends which spelt out my name. (So quite truly...what more could I hope for in life?!). Whilst others may dream of seeing their name in lights, seeing mine in cake was always more of a goal...


Breaking up nicely the last three-and-a-half months back in England, I've been away twice to France on two different hen-do's. One I organized (as a bridesmaid), and one I didn't. I have to say in organizing my best friend's surprise hen-do the pressure really got to me (organizing large scale commercial shoots are a doddle in comparison!), and if anyone is in line to become a future Bridezilla I think its safe to say I'm at the front of the que. One hen task I happily took upon was to arrange an Easter Egg hunt for the girls on Easter day... and obviously the Easter eggs had to be bought three times over before they even made it into my suitcase for Paris. 



The other hen, I had no part in the organization (phew!) so just paid my money and turned up where I was told to. Or, well, almost did. For some reason I believed the Hen was in taking place Cannes. No-one had thought to correct me that it was infact in Nice, and the bride-to-be only panicked when she saw my Instagram post whilst boarding the plane in London declaring "Cannes I'm coming for you". Alarm bells ring to her as she has this vision of me getting out at Nice airport in my over-sized hat and heels and dramatically declaring to the nearest taxi 'TAKE ME TO CANNES'. Which was infact exactly what I was planning on doing. So once switching my phone off from flight-mode I received a mass of redirection messages, and bashfully took myself to Nice. Thank god the airport for Cannes is Nice airport... otherwise it would have been a slightly more costly and disastrous mistake...

Aside from getting lost in other countries, I'm getting lost in the enchanting ideas of how to spend this summer in London. The city comes alive, and in the warm summer nights it truly is my favorite place to float around. A little project titled '85 Days of Summer' means that a whole-big glorious London bucket-list is in line to get ticked off this year.

July brings two weddings. Remembering to pack my bridesmaid dress to take to Yorkshire for my best friends wedding is something that is worrying me quite a lot, if past scattiness is anything to go by. It's never good when you wake up after a heavy bank-holiday-weekend and feel as though your missing something, to realize sickeningly that somewhere along the pubs you visited last night after you were handed your Bridesmaid dress you no longer have it. And when you raise your eyebrows in shock at this, the feeling of pain also reminds you, that yes, you managed to face-plant a lit cigarette last night too. 



Since the last blog post my little sister ran the Brighton Marathon, one of my best friends completed the Three Peaks Challenge, and I've managed to successfully get a refund from McVities about some burnt chocolate digestives. Whilst my achievement may pale slightly in comparison, hey it's all baby steps. Plus if I don't stand up for our basic human right to get an edible biscuit, well, we may aswell not bother having a democratic society. And I'm all about the politics now I took the Guardian Internet Quiz the night before the General Election to tell me which party I should vote for. 



I'm moving back East, I have a new tattoo and I've booked to go to Ibiza... life is feeling pretty bad-ass right now. Next thing you know I'll be riding a Boris Bike without a helmet. 

Turning 28 is hopefully turning over another incredible year ahead, with filled with good friends, big travels and plenty more cake. (Oh and mum, don't panic, I'll wear a helmet really).

Happy Summer everyone!

Emily x

I dream of Rio... HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! x

December has been a tipsy whirlwind of work, Christmas parties, packing, new tattoos, and eating. I don't know why it is, but the only film shoots I do outside always happen in December. In the freezing cold. For several days. However, all was forgiven by the Ad Agency coming over from India with bags of bindi's. Nothing of course to do with the 'moodboard' of bindi's I sent over to them prior to there arrival. Probably my hardest work on the shoot if I do say so myself. (that can also be firmly backed up by the Producer...)



Christmas has been and gone and I rolled like a pig in a blanket (well, fur coat) back to London after leaving a note in my mothers fridge to apologize for eating all the chocolates. And taking all the cheese. I got myself some red Lana Del Rey-esque talons done before Christmas, so unfortunately I was put out of action on the sprout peeling this year for Christmas dinner. Shame. It appears all one can do with these nails is drink Prosecco? But in all seriousness, glamorous whilst they are, highly impractical they also are. The first night I realized I had to remove my contact lenses with them, it was touch and go as to whether I might have an eyeball left. No wonder only footballers wives don them on, or people with 20/20 vision.



This was the first year I have been back home for Christmas since 2008. My families happiness at my presence was only slightly tarnished by the realization that late on Christmas Eve I had rolled in drunk, and managed to consume ALL the smoked salmon meant for Christmas breakfast. Not ideal, even less so when ones hopeless cooking skills mean your unable to whip up a good egg dish to substitute. I had also managed to drunkenly destroy a contact lens (damn you lovely nails) so my comeuppance was spending Christmas feeling terribly off-balance from a one-seeing eye. (well that and the Prosecco.)



2014's been an incredible roller-coaster of a year. I've pushed my own boundaries, had some rock bottom moments, and had some of my happiest moments. Right now as I stand on the brink of this New Year I'm happier and more self-assured then I have ever been with myself, and where I'm headed in life. Growing up, and learning who you are and what you want is something that takes time. I'm off to Brazil for two months on my own, because I never want to dream something and not do it. Following that, I plan to live in Ibiza for the summer, and then India and Sri Lanka for the winter. With a little bit of lovely London in-between of course. My carbon footprint in 2015 is going to be well and truly trod.



Obviously I'm embarking on this Brazilian New Year trip in the way I do best - like an idiot. To start things off, yesterday I lost my bankcard. With all my money on. And no way to get another one in time. Did I mention I'm flying tonight?

Secondly, I casually look at my flight ticket this morning to see what airport I'm going from, to realize I am not landing in Sao Paulo on New Years day like I thought, but I actually arrive at six o'clock on New Years Eve. I mean seriously - who books flights, and doesn't even check when they arrive in the country until the day before?! Cue major freakout. I'M GOING TO BE IN SAO PAULO FOR NYE! This is going one of two ways - disastrous, or amazing. Or maybe both. Probably both...



I'm picking up my Rio Carnival costume for the parade in Rio. For those of you who haven't seen the pictures - it's huge and looks to weigh about the same amount as me. I'm probably (definitely) going to fall. But I have a go-pro (thank you dad!) and I have a headstrap for the camera - so at least my fall can be caught in all its glory in the Sambadrome! Apart from those plans, I'm pretty, well, unplanned. I know I want to be on a beach, and I've got my malaria tablets for the Amazon (check out that for organization!) so I'll be heading there too. I've packed my glittery hotpants, and a glittery waistcoat, and will probably break all the Amazon fashion rules by wearing them both on a trek. At the same time. 



It's exciting, its exhilarating, and I can't wait to share all the stories and pictures! 

I'm off to the airport now, so I wish everyone a very Happy New Year! And as to 2015... bring it on! 



Emily x

Photo by Paul J. Beard

I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere...

 
Since the last blog, there has been not only one, but two engagements within my circle of friends. Utterly ecstatic for them both, my nine year-old self is also jumping inside, as I have the honor of being a bridesmaid for one of them. I've waited twenty-seven years to play this part, and cannot wait for the two weddings next summer. I also cannot wait for the hens - although I have strictly been warned about midget strippers...

However, one can't help but notice a direct parallel when two of your best friends are now planning their weddings, organizing their mortgages, and you just spent the the weekend before last wandering around Amsterdam believing you were a giant tulip. (that's a joke mum - don't worry!) But yes, I was in Amsterdam last weekend. And yes, I am still slightly ruined now. I am also terribly addicted to stroop waffles (no-one got there presents), but that's a whooole other story. And on wondering why I might feel so bad of late, I count back on my calender and realize I have been partying for the last seventeen weekends without a break. So this weekend I hung up my worn-out party shoes, did my Christmas shopping, and booked my escape to Brazil.

My dream is now a reality, and I will find myself in Sao Paulo for New Years Day. I'll be away for two months, and I'm venturing their on my own. The independence of that is terribly exciting, exhilarating and liberating, and I intend to make the most of every single minute. I mean what could go wrong?! The last time I went to South America I only got altitude sickness, bitten by a dog, and spent every other day getting rabies jabs in hospitals... and I was with someone... 

I've been warned about how strong the Caipirinha's are on the beach, and I've been warned even more so about the Brazilian men. And, quite rightfully, I fully hope to fall in love with a bronzed, speedo wearing 'Tiago' along the way. My plans are excitable, if not slightly scatty, with my notebook consisting of lists of things such as "Visit the Snoop Dog steps" and "go to Christ the Reindeer". It was only at my sisters hysterical laughter at my indignation that that was the translation, that I realized it's actually 'Christ the Redeemer'. Which reminds me, I really need to learn some Portuguese.

Apart from trekking the Amazon, visiting waterfalls and soaking up beaches, the one plan I have already put into motion is...dance in Rio Carnival. Yes that's right, I have joined a Samba School (in Rio), I am choosing my costume, and I, Emily Duffield will be dancing along in the 2015 Rio Carnival Parade. All I have to do is make it along to the rehearsals (in the Favela eek) and fit in the brashly colored clown costume. These English hips better do me proud.

Christmas is so close that you can practically smell it. The lights are on in Oxford Street, I'm living in colored variations of the same woolly jumper, and I've already eaten my way through three advent calenders. Two of which weren't even my own (sorry housemates!). This years list for Santa is more practical rather then pretty, and involves things like trek towels, mosquito repellent, and a head strap for my Go-Pro Camera. Thats right, I've surpassed the selfie-stick, and am taking it one step further on my trip - a camera strapped to my head. Spot the tourist anyone?

Tis the season to be Jolly, and Christmas parties are in full-swing. Being freelance means I have a full list to attend this year, and wanting to still be employed next year means I will have to watch the amount of mulled-wine consumed...

Happy 1st of December everyone!

Emily x

Footballs, Swedes and Copacabana dreams : PUG LIFE in London

Well, first things first, let's start with the most important news since the last blog. Ive fallen in love. True, deep L.O.V.E. With a friends fat (sorry big-boned)  pug called 'Miss Piggy'. Miss Piggy by name and definitely by nature, she seems to know no commands except for eat. Everything. Sadly my dreams of doggy fashion and matching pink outfits to a pink leash were left behind when on our recent outing she didn't fit in any of the doggy clothes in Primrose Hill Pet shop. But it just means there's just more to Miss Piggy to love, and she is further fueling my desire for my own little doggy one day. 



Since my last post I have been working non-stop jumping from job to job, which as a freelancer is ideal, for my bank balance is ideal but for sleep and holidays is definitely not ideal. My Ibiza holiday was replaced by the fact that I couldn't turn down a month of work, and my lack of summer holiday this year meant an unplanned trip to Stockholm this weekend just gone was long overdue, if not a bit silly with a shoot planned for the Monday. Attempting to board a packed plane at Heathrow on a Friday night whilst attempting to get a callsheet out is far from ideal. The only bright-side about embarking the plane whilst holding my laptop aloft sending emails meant that there was no danger of me leaving it in the airport chocolate shop this time. Every cloud hey....!



Sweden is beautiful, expensive and full of men in bow-ties. It boasts the tastiest restaurant food I've ever eaten, the most dubious named bars of chocolate ...('plopp' being my favorite), and bicycles with brakes on the pedals. Braking being something I was unable to master, stopping came in the form of a wall, a fence, or my own feet running along with the bike. Exhilarating yes, graceful, no. I had meatballs, Daim bars, reindeer heart (sorry Rudolf), Smörgåsbord, and *ahem* MacDonalds. 



Summer is officially over (oh hiiii grey clouds), and I saw it out by attending London's last festival of the year 'Found'. I'd like to say I saw it out in style, but if my inebriated-self at the end of the night was anything to go by, it definitely was not that. Yes there was a lot of glitter, yes it was a lot of fun, and yes I woke up at 5am in a friends room wondering if I would ever feel human again. A direct contradiction to the idea that the older you get, the wiser you are...



Last month I Produced my first documentary on a past Chelsea football player. Quite ironic as I had never even been to a football match before, and certainly something which the football agent we were working with could not seem to fathom. I don't think my constant reference to the 'shed-end' as the 'cow shed' helped my weight on the subject either. The documentary is due to be aired by the BBC later in the year.



Halloween is fast approaching which leaves one with the question of what to wear? Last year I dressed up as a Fortune Teller for 'Mulletover' and very surprisingly won their best dressed of the night. So no pressure this year then...!? My grand plans of a Cleopatra-esque costume have been quelled by the next three-week stint I have shooting 14 hour days out at Black Island Film Studio's and I'm thinking Walking-Zombie will probably be a much more realistic costume...

But I complain not, as all my recent work means that my dreams of Rio De Janeiro in 2015 are now a reality, and I once again will be escaping the cold winter blues and taking a break from work by heading to Brazil for a few months in February. I can't wait, I have dreamed of sipping Caipirinha's on Copacabana beach and dancing at Rio Carnival for years. I'm practicing my Shakira hips already, and working up a tolerance to rum. (I can already see my friends disbelief at this statement) (and in all honesty I don't believe it myself).

London's getting colder and I've bought my winter hat. Large, fluffy and white, I resemble a giant cotton wool bud, but it's oh so soft to touch. I've started getting my nails done as I feel it ads to ones professional demeanor. Well, anything has to help when weeks through a job you realize the laptop you take to work everyday has your 'life goals' open on a bright pink stickie note, and no.1) is to go raving in Berlin.

Growing-up is still something I'm struggling to master, but I'm having a pretty fun time figuring it out right now...

Emily x

Hot Summer Sun : London Life

Good Morning London!

I can only profusely apologize for my lack of time in the blogsphere since I returned from L.A. On touch down at Heathrow airport from Los Angeles, the international idiot that I am had managed to make it back without a laptop. Having left my pride and joy (not to mention all my work!) back in Detroit airport it took a good month and plenty of panicked 3am phone-calls to Detroit airport staff, Fedex America staff, and some amazing help off a friend's American family to get it safely back in my arms. Well, that is, apart from the 3 large cracks down the center of its screen.

We wont mention the fact that this disaster could have been averted had I not left it amongst the sweet aisle when buying chocolate on the stop-over flight...

Life's been hectic since my return, and I've spent the last few months in London jumping from one home to another, jumping from one freelance Production job to another, and in-between all of this attempting to find a frozen yogurt which rival's L.A's. As of yet America's froyo is still winning. I have finally settled, and on watching television in my new home last night it was amazingly rewarding to see two of my recent adverts I've helped produce come on within the same ad-break. Hard-work paying off!

My clothing line has been a slow work in progress, but my first design is done, and has been sent off to be printed. Now I just need to spend a few days sitting around in arty cafes, eating overpriced cakes, and throwing out ideas to uninterested friends to come out with a one-syllable brand name. On the sideline I have signed up with a modelling agency for print work, and I am shooting for a friends headband brand this week.

Recently finding myself single in this big ol' city I have done what any self respecting 20-something would do, and joined Tinder of course! Although I really feel the need to have words with the many guys who seem to feature exotic birds in there profile pictures...what is all that about?! I also need to have a serious word with my friends who have a great time matching me with complete crazies whenever I leave the room...

If one wishes to read a hilarious article on just how BAD men are on tinder then my Australian friend Alex conducted her own little experiment here : https://funnellism.wordpress.com/2014/07/01/proof-men-love-crazy-women/
 

With England beating Barbados temperatures in its heatwave this last month, I do not feel so bad about my so far lack of a summer holiday abroad. What does make one feel bad however, is attending LoveBox Festival in 31 degree heat, only to hydrate on alcohol. All day. The inevitable dehydration was nicely set-off the sunburn. Which in turn was nicely set off by my glittery hot-pants.

But a summer holiday is not completely lost for me, and Ibiza is on the cards for September. Now as an Ibiza virgin at the age of 27, this holiday has been long over-due. Too long have I heard people rave about Pacha, the best DJ's in the world, and the overuse of body paint... well soon enough I can be annoying people with my tales of raves and glitter! 'Future tattoo funds' have been changed to 'Ibiza overpriced drink funds', and I have Kevin and Perry Go Large on repeat.  

The city is utterly captivating in the summer sun, and I would rather be nowhere else. London's hot evenings were made for picnics, parks, views, wine and friends... something which I am making the most of.

Happy Summer!

Emily x

Los Angeles to London. With love (and extra baggage...)

So here I am at LAX, awaiting my flight.

I'm too excited to make London my base again. I fell in love with the city last summer, and I'm sure that feeling will continue this year. It's about time I began to root myself, stop always flying away and have a base (for a time). I'm sure the fact that I know I'm coming home to warmer weather then I left is prompting this thought, but hell, I feel like being more settled. And what can settle one more then the pitter-patter of tiny feet? No, not a baby I hear you gasp...but a sausage dog? Ive wanted one for far too long now. Maybe the time is finally right? I'm sick of pretending to walk 'Frankie' down the street when no-ones around, maybe I just need to man up and walk a REAL one. Although 'Frankie' is very good with commands!

But that's a by-thought, really whats occupying my mind is two things. Number one; quite how expensive and inaccessible is froyo going to be back in the UK, and number two; quite how much money do I need to open my own froyo palace in East London?

I've got far too much stuff. I'm currently wearing five layers underneath a fur coat, and I've got Reece's Buttercups tucked into my shoes. The metal detector is going to have a whale of a time when I go through, and the Reece's are already starting to melt from the heat radiating off my highly layered body. This is going to be one very messy arrival at London Heathrow. I do this every time and never learn. Next time I'm going to need a man to help with this, or at least have enough left on my credit card to buy extra baggage allowance. I'm now starting to panic that I gave my boyfriend the right flight arrival details, as if not I'll be paying people in squashed Reece's Buttercups to help me lug it all onto the tube. Oh who am I kidding, I'll have eaten them all on the flight.

I give my tan three weeks until I'm back to applying to several layers of Garnier sun-shimmer. And I've given my social life two weeks where I can loftily say 'Oh this tan? It's just from living in Los Angeles the last three months dah-ling'. And then it will be over. And people will be coming back from Ibiza more bronzed, and I'll be fuming as I spent all my would-be Ibiza funds on drinking Slurpee's out here.

But I've had the best time, met some amazing people (although not Ryan Gosling), and happily ticked off one of my life's ambitions. I couldn't be prouder of myself for just doing it, and couldn't stress more the belief that if there's something you want to do, well you should just do it (as long as its like socially acceptable ya know). 

Oh and Dad, I'm onto Tattoo no.7. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. I now bear an angel wing behind my right ear as a dedication to my time in the City of Angels. I hope it looks good, as I can't see behind my ear, and I went to the tattoo shop on my own. Hold up - he's blatantly inked a penis behind my ear hasn't he?! I knew I shouldn't have made that joke about his beard...

Los Angeles you've been the best, but London, your going to be even better.

Emily x