I had a damn fine couple of days over the May Day weekend. After an entire season of enforced hibernation, it was just what I needed to kick start the rest of my 2016.
I had Friday afternoon off so sped down the A3 to Gunwharf Quays in Portsmouth. I wasn’t really intending to buy a lot, but the Cosmetics Company Store was closed so I overreacted by splurging in Lulu Guinness. It’s my second fancy bag purchase in two months and I need to calm the heck down, but the magenta Small Edie was calling my name (and with 20% off, who was I to turn her down). Good god, I love her.
Saturday was spent fending off knuckle chilblains (no really) in the Tatty Devine sample sale already documented. And once I was home, sitting in a pile of plastic jewellery on my bed trying to figure out where the hell to put it all.
Fortunately, Sunday weather was blissfully warm and allowed me to wander from Somerset House to the Tate Modern with my BFF. We haven’t seen each other for months, so I feel really bad for all the art we ignored as we caught up.
We had tickets for the Pick Me Up Festival which we went to last year, but nothing grabbed me as much this time around. That might have been because of our constant chatting or because it was towards the end of the festival, but there didn’t seem to be as many ‘collectives’ in residence for us to explore. I did really like the Clay Collective‘s pottery though and the big typographical glittery prints from Best Brighton.
I really want that Adequate print!
After Somerset House, I forced Tim into the funicular railway over by the Millennium Bridge, mainly because Husband is far too responsible and will never let me in it. Across the bridge and into the Tate which was rammed with children where we conversed our way around the Media Networks exhibition.
Lunch was at the Refinery where we confused the hostess, elbowed a waitress in the legs (mainly me), and ate breakfast food. I think I nearly broke Tim’s brain with his birthday present as for a moment, he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was looking at. I hope he loves it!
It was a pretty perfect Sunday, despite the 3 hour round trip (I may have whinged about this on a couple of occasions) but I think next time, we’ll just forego the art and have a solid 5.5 hours of talking. And breakfast food. And funicular rides. 
untold blisses 
Breakfast food is the best food. Except for dessert.
I do not miss chilblains. When I was in London for Christmas, I swear I got some before I even got home from the airport.
I’ve never had them on the knuckles before though, so that was new.
I’ve had them on my knuckles a couple of times. I thought they were bites.