It's All About Trish

RAIN.

We pulled back the curtains to be greeted with a grimacing, grey day- that threw us both back under our duvets, into the sanctuary of our respective beds. We peeked out tentatively and felt it too precarious to even try and leave the safety of said beds. And thus we remained, exquisitely comfortable yet undeniably guilty for not even trying to be productive.

Our guilt grew, blossoming in a rather ugly manner, intertwining between our warm toes and relaxed shoulders until the feeling overcame us both and we jumped out of our afore-mentioned beds and decided to leave the confines of the Travelodge. Before we knew it, we found ourselves in Slough, our attentions diverted by the numerous shops we see everyday in Bonnie Scotland.

I had plans to meet Suzanne, Stefan, Igor and Trish ( Suzanne's Mum) in town in the evening and left Ammi in a cinema and made my way back to the Travelodge. I was (un)pleasantly surprised to have the same taxi driver as we had last night (out-dated politics) who asked about my mother and called me "Love" a few times, commenting how he liked my "Scottish Accent" and then said "Och, Aye the nooooo" a few times in quite the obnoxious manner. I grinned and bore it best I could, making a mental note not to come to London again unless it was a matter of life and death.

It was fabulous to meet up with afore-mentioned friends :D I had seen them all except Trish on my birthday and mentioned to Suzanne how I may be more excited to see her Mum than her… Suzanne replied by saying "It's all about Trish", which I replied by saying that I wish that was an actual T.V. show. We met in a Blues Bar (Ain't Nothing But Blues Bar) which had an amazing atmosphere and fantastic live music. The company as well, was beyond compare- amongst many other things we discussed the premise of "It's All About Trish" show and what it would entail. I left about quarter to 11- ("What, are you Cinderella or something?" - Trish) to get the last train back to Terminal 5.

Unfortunately, by the time I got back to Terminal 5, there were no more buses running to the Travelodge. Thank God for Meher who came to get me. (Meher- Fatima Nur : saving Ameena Nur's Ass since 1990) It was late late late and so Meshu stayed at the Travelodge with us.

Luckily for me, I was treated to a harmonising snoring concert. Who knew Meher could snore just as melodiously as our Mother Dear?

Friday 25th April 2014

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