The P(l)easant Life

A quick trip to Prague before embarking on a crazy road trip in Austrian mountains. Walking around in skimpy shorts, having some ice cream (cause I'm a summer stereotype) even though it always makes me sick.

Picking up a beautiful rubber bracelet from the dirt of the street regardless of Klara's protests, which would then become mine (and later on David's) treasured accessory for the next year to come (cause you really don't need to buy one for £30 from Topman), and succumbing to the simple pleasures of getting everywhere so fast (in London you could travel for two hours and still not be at the place of your date/work/friend's house), meeting friends over a coffee and smiling at people who (unless they're tourists) never smile back, thinking maybe this could be my life at some point, this perpetual half-sleepy haze of seemingly lazy and hedonistic existence.

But then again, I'm coming with British pounds and I realise I'm operating in a holiday mode, so the day-to-day stuff of nightmares life; like work, rent, tax returns, roaring overdraft charges and always busy friends do not apply here.

Funny observation - an alarmingly huge number of my friends seemed to have lost a grasp on reality after we parted our ways with our fresh degrees ready to take over the world.

There's lots of dramatic sighs and moaning about having no time and no money and
living basically A PEASANT LIFE, whilst they gobble down a slice of pumpkin and quinoa frittata nonsense in an uber-expensive (or is this maybe a new normal?) hipster Cafe Neustadt, switching in between fiddling with their IPHONES and covering their skin peeling because of the sunburn acquired on their two weeks holiday in Greece with a BodyShop lavender hand lotion.

Just to make it clear - this is not a made up anecdote. Just when being privileged enough to enjoy this lifestyle and have these things to play with and put on and in your body became A PEASANT LIFE?

Contrary to what everyone assumes just from me living in London, I'd sell my soul for this level of luxury.

I could write text books on balancing constantly on the verge of bankruptcy, yet striving to eat well, be well and laugh a lot and hopefully infecting few good people along the way with positivity.

Just today I've accidentally poured and heated up my soup (already discounted cause expiring) in a bowl that had a liquid soap in it but was so hungry and poor that I ate it anyway. Now I feel a bit sick and with every burp I've got a minestrone+jasmine taste coming to my mouth.

If this will be my undoing, please I'm relying on your creativity to come up with a sufficiently heroic cover story of my demise.
Something like passing whilst saving a litter of puppies, who also have leukemia, from the fire. In North Korea.