Poorman's Picnic

. 3 min read . Written by Kuba Vitek
Poorman's Picnic

Much to his credit - David made several completely voluntary visits to his family in France last year - credit to his character I believe, as well as to the fact he's now doing much better in his professional life... I mean, don't get too excited, this still is London and as long as we live here, we'll always be poor according to our bank statements, but rich in heart (yikes). But feeling better about yourself (at least judging by my own example) makes you much more likely to show up for your friends and family.

I should know - just about this time last year I've been continuously postponing skyping my parents after being made redundant at work just so I wouldn't have to A) lie - the more likely scenario, or B) come clean & feel the ugly feels - nope thx.

The unsuspected consequence of leaving me & Carol behind for a few days to face the incredibly generous 2018 weather in London on our own = an endless string of picnics in Highgate Woods. You see, me & Carol (me Leo, Carol Leo rising) give easily into the hedonistic ways, feeding each others desire for more - more fun, more alcohol, more good food & lazy beautiful moments on the sun.

Us being still wonderfully hipster (read 'losers') deep into our thirties, we obviously do 'lavish' on a budget - so stocking up in the off-license shop across the street, run by a friendly Indian family always excited to see us -

(I kid you not, they literally encouraged us to keep coming as they plan on buying a second house.)

-indulging in crisps, various dips & cheap charcuterie containing various stages of botulotoxin, and of course anything sweet and fizzy that makes you tiddly.

Last year we've been doing some yoga, reading out loud from scandalous books, finding out more about each others horror stories from the past, lusting after all the dogs running around the park (even if they stick their snouts in our food) - or perhaps more so lusting after their freedom & frolics & forever good mood (although dogs can get old and can get sad and it's the worst fucking thing ever, I can't even!).

This year, we have re-ignited the tradition of poorman's picnics

(which is not so poor if you drink prosecco and eat gluten free salmon avocado buns I guess)

on 23rd February!!! So this goes to all the all the global warming deniers out there. Repeat - February. London. Picnic!

I will come clean however & admit we've once again left it too long and nearly froze to death on our way home. If you know us, you've probably guessed - it only served as a great excuse to warm up with hot grog & regardless the evening frost, the mud, the failing livers -

picnic season of 2019 is officially opened! Chin chin!