Listening to: BBC News
The King of Pop is dead. His music will live on.
Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.
The King of Pop is dead. His music will live on.
Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.
Time for some 'me' time
I'm bounding up the stairs, thinking "Shit shit shit, why didn't I leave sooner? Me and my time management, or lack thereof. Why are these buffoons walking so slowly?! Get out of my way, fool! It's ok I'll blame the Sri Lankan genes, she'll understand...I hope." As I reach street level, my phone buzzes with a voicemail. The message is along the lines of...So yes, some of you will know that I met Scrumpy over the weekend. We met up in the capital and she took me to a quaint little café with the most amazing cakes. We sat in the corner of the tiny underground room (yes, very clandestine blogger rendezvous-esque, I know) and ordered, um, milky coffees...right Scrumpy ;-) ? We chatted for about an hour about loads of things...blogging, bloggers, work, men...heck we even solved all the problems back home!"I'm so sorry, I'm running a bit late...typical Sri Lankan timing! See you soon!"Dammit, she stole my excuse.
"I like you. RED! Gorgeous!"by a man dressed in a pirate suit outside Hamleys (yes I was the only one wearing red nearby, it was definitely for me :P ). Saw a man having a heart attack outside another shop (I saw him again later, he had regained consciousness, and the paramedics were looking after him). Then I met up with Bang Bang and spent lots of money at TopShop, and then sat with some post-rally pro-LTTErs on the tube (more on that later).