When you feel you are on the right path, don't worry; just keep going. 'I keep telling myself'.
The whirlwind of outings continued throughout the week past. All partied out! Well, not exactly.
If your life is sweetened with even half the spread of honey I consume daily, consider yourself a lucky soul. Am I grateful? You bet your bottom dollar I am.
It was Sis Hala's last week, and she had already extended her stay here due to the arrival of Elliot for a long weekend stopover from New York on his way to Hydra. He has invited me to join him on this beautiful Greek island next week at this magnificent residence he has been asked to stay at, but my travelling to the same country twice in one month would be too greedy of me. Trying to teach myself to consume less; instead of buying three yoga socks today, I came out with only two! So, the same goes for my travels. Besides, London is good to me, even in the wettest summer we are experiencing. Then again, we must take everything for what it's worth and the people around us for who they are, not what we expect. Life becomes so much sweeter this way.
When my visitors first leave, there is a profound emptiness, but life continues.
We had a splendid last week with Hala and Elliot, who joined hands to participate in our outings.
The weekend began on Wednesday (a little early, but why not?), dinner at Dylan's, one of our oldest mutual friends, where Hala and I were the only dinner guests until Jade, who happened to be in town, joined in later for a night of wining and laughter.
Early Thursday morning, Elliot arrived from NYC to stay over the weekend. It was three years since he and Hala had last seen each other, and it was such a pleasure to spend time together again. We had lunch outdoors at the Lebanese Comptoir restaurant, set amidst the pedestrianised area of South Kensington, full of restaurants and cafes. London has certainly changed since the years when we envied les Francais for their cafes. We even managed to get a glimpse of the sun and blue skies. However, the clouds were never far off. Such a British habit to keep mentioning the weather!
Thursday evening arrived before we knew it, and our aim to get to Robby's new home for a sit-down dinner party at 8pm was not accomplished as we got there one hour later than scheduled. Dylan and Troy had appeared before us, and conversation was in full swing over the absolutely mouthwatering lamb dish which melt in one's mouth, accompanied by a vegetable couscous, which I must have stuffed my face with. There was no question of everyone's appreciation of the mastery of our hostess's cooking. Still, I could not stop but wonder whether that strong joint Troy had rolled had affected my huge appetite that evening. If only I could remember some anecdotes going around the room filled with the best humour shouted from every corner. But I remember the dining area by the open-plan kitchen, filled with roars of laughter, occupying the space, already buzzing with Love and friendship.
Despite the late night out, I made it to my favourite pilates class on Friday, followed by the hairdo, ready for fine dining on Lukas' houseboat. He had asked us to invite over some of our comrades, and everyone volunteered to bring the BBQ food and drinks to make another memorable evening for an ensemble of friends. Again, we got lucky with an outburst of sunshine instead of rain emerging through the clouds before it vanished into the dark of the night.
Here are snapshots of the sunset.
There was a chill in the air, but Lukas started the fire in the BBQ on the houseboat deck to cook the burgers and keep warm. Again, Hala and I, with our entourage of lovely companions, Ernest, Dylan, Robby and Jade, plus a girlfriend of our host who carried the sweetest of smiles but had to leave before the food was served, gathered for another terrific night to begin. At the stroke of 23:00 hour, we all jumped into two cars to head towards Notting Hill's Hurlingham Club to boogie away to the sound of a dear DJ friend, Stan, playing. Who joined us there? Hesse was meant to come to the BBQ with dessert (I had to mention that! Haha), but at least she did manage to appear at the club, deserts! Our group was scattered one by one, and only a handful of us left to return to 'chez moi' (my place) after the club closed at 2:00am.
We were happily chatting and listening to music when Hesse announced that Sirena, Pedro, Laurence and some other friends were coming to ours. Brilliant! The more, the merrier. The party went on to the sun rising well into the blue sky before everyone headed home, and Hala, Elliot, and I went to our beds. How marvellous.
Saturday afternoon was spent in front of the TV, with the three of us tennis enthusiasts, watching Serena Williams beat Victoria Azarenka at the ladies' final. Dinner at Lady Saba's with another couple seemed a chore after all the nights of partying, but thinking of her fabulous presence gave us the energy to move and get ready yet again. Another wonderful fish dish with tamarind sauce, greens, and great company made it to another admirable evening, except for one flaw. When we fit all (5 of us) into my car and I began to accelerate, there was a strange limb in my vehicle. Having only recently recovered from two punctures, I got out to check the tyres and yes... Yet another flat one at the front wheel! That makes it three flat tyres in a row. We got out, left the car and cabbed our way home.
It was sad to see Hala leave for the airport on Sunday, but our good times had ended, with the excitement of many more to come. This time, Elliot and I were relishing the exciting men's tennis final. Watching Federer move elegantly on the court was as graceful as a male ballet dancer moving along a stage. Murray did make the Brits proud with his effort, which turned the game into an excitable pastime, to say the least. While the ball was being hit across the centre court on TV, my match of words with Lance, texting back and forth, doubled the excitement of a shorthand w of ski been during the game.
Half an hour into the game, Lance wrote: "Federer's backhand couldn't be any tastier even if it was wrapped in bacon, grilled and served with a sumptuous raspberry jus!"
And I replied: "Mmm... And you are sounding sexier than those hot legs running around the courts!"
By the end of the game, and especially after Murray's emotional speech after losing, we agreed that although we are both fans of Federer, we have developed a soft spot for Murray. So did anyone watching, mostly in tears.
Elliot pointed out that Federer and Serena Williams were both 30 years old, the winning of the veterans!
Two impressive comments I heard on TV about Federer were:
'A silky underneath with a warrior exterior' and 'A man who can conjure cruelty out of beauty'.
Superb description and wording.
Monday was going to and fro: replacing the flat tyre, another pilates reformer class, and visiting a special sushi place. Must take some control of my food consumption; the next trip in the bikini is fast approaching.
Another new expression I learned from Elliot in the middle of the men's final, when the play stopped before the closure of the roof of the tennis court due to rain, was:
'It ain't over till the fat lady sings!'
He then explained that this phrase began from the Opera. It simply means...
It ain't over till it's over.
Till next time... With Love
The whirlwind of outings continued throughout the week past. All partied out! Well, not exactly.
If your life is sweetened with even half the spread of honey I consume daily, consider yourself a lucky soul. Am I grateful? You bet your bottom dollar I am.
It was Sis Hala's last week, and she had already extended her stay here due to the arrival of Elliot for a long weekend stopover from New York on his way to Hydra. He has invited me to join him on this beautiful Greek island next week at this magnificent residence he has been asked to stay at, but my travelling to the same country twice in one month would be too greedy of me. Trying to teach myself to consume less; instead of buying three yoga socks today, I came out with only two! So, the same goes for my travels. Besides, London is good to me, even in the wettest summer we are experiencing. Then again, we must take everything for what it's worth and the people around us for who they are, not what we expect. Life becomes so much sweeter this way.
When my visitors first leave, there is a profound emptiness, but life continues.
We had a splendid last week with Hala and Elliot, who joined hands to participate in our outings.
The weekend began on Wednesday (a little early, but why not?), dinner at Dylan's, one of our oldest mutual friends, where Hala and I were the only dinner guests until Jade, who happened to be in town, joined in later for a night of wining and laughter.
Early Thursday morning, Elliot arrived from NYC to stay over the weekend. It was three years since he and Hala had last seen each other, and it was such a pleasure to spend time together again. We had lunch outdoors at the Lebanese Comptoir restaurant, set amidst the pedestrianised area of South Kensington, full of restaurants and cafes. London has certainly changed since the years when we envied les Francais for their cafes. We even managed to get a glimpse of the sun and blue skies. However, the clouds were never far off. Such a British habit to keep mentioning the weather!
Thursday evening arrived before we knew it, and our aim to get to Robby's new home for a sit-down dinner party at 8pm was not accomplished as we got there one hour later than scheduled. Dylan and Troy had appeared before us, and conversation was in full swing over the absolutely mouthwatering lamb dish which melt in one's mouth, accompanied by a vegetable couscous, which I must have stuffed my face with. There was no question of everyone's appreciation of the mastery of our hostess's cooking. Still, I could not stop but wonder whether that strong joint Troy had rolled had affected my huge appetite that evening. If only I could remember some anecdotes going around the room filled with the best humour shouted from every corner. But I remember the dining area by the open-plan kitchen, filled with roars of laughter, occupying the space, already buzzing with Love and friendship.
Despite the late night out, I made it to my favourite pilates class on Friday, followed by the hairdo, ready for fine dining on Lukas' houseboat. He had asked us to invite over some of our comrades, and everyone volunteered to bring the BBQ food and drinks to make another memorable evening for an ensemble of friends. Again, we got lucky with an outburst of sunshine instead of rain emerging through the clouds before it vanished into the dark of the night.
Here are snapshots of the sunset.
 |
| Views of the Thames from the Houseboat |
There was a chill in the air, but Lukas started the fire in the BBQ on the houseboat deck to cook the burgers and keep warm. Again, Hala and I, with our entourage of lovely companions, Ernest, Dylan, Robby and Jade, plus a girlfriend of our host who carried the sweetest of smiles but had to leave before the food was served, gathered for another terrific night to begin. At the stroke of 23:00 hour, we all jumped into two cars to head towards Notting Hill's Hurlingham Club to boogie away to the sound of a dear DJ friend, Stan, playing. Who joined us there? Hesse was meant to come to the BBQ with dessert (I had to mention that! Haha), but at least she did manage to appear at the club, deserts! Our group was scattered one by one, and only a handful of us left to return to 'chez moi' (my place) after the club closed at 2:00am.
We were happily chatting and listening to music when Hesse announced that Sirena, Pedro, Laurence and some other friends were coming to ours. Brilliant! The more, the merrier. The party went on to the sun rising well into the blue sky before everyone headed home, and Hala, Elliot, and I went to our beds. How marvellous.
Saturday afternoon was spent in front of the TV, with the three of us tennis enthusiasts, watching Serena Williams beat Victoria Azarenka at the ladies' final. Dinner at Lady Saba's with another couple seemed a chore after all the nights of partying, but thinking of her fabulous presence gave us the energy to move and get ready yet again. Another wonderful fish dish with tamarind sauce, greens, and great company made it to another admirable evening, except for one flaw. When we fit all (5 of us) into my car and I began to accelerate, there was a strange limb in my vehicle. Having only recently recovered from two punctures, I got out to check the tyres and yes... Yet another flat one at the front wheel! That makes it three flat tyres in a row. We got out, left the car and cabbed our way home.
It was sad to see Hala leave for the airport on Sunday, but our good times had ended, with the excitement of many more to come. This time, Elliot and I were relishing the exciting men's tennis final. Watching Federer move elegantly on the court was as graceful as a male ballet dancer moving along a stage. Murray did make the Brits proud with his effort, which turned the game into an excitable pastime, to say the least. While the ball was being hit across the centre court on TV, my match of words with Lance, texting back and forth, doubled the excitement of a shorthand w of ski been during the game.
Half an hour into the game, Lance wrote: "Federer's backhand couldn't be any tastier even if it was wrapped in bacon, grilled and served with a sumptuous raspberry jus!"
And I replied: "Mmm... And you are sounding sexier than those hot legs running around the courts!"
By the end of the game, and especially after Murray's emotional speech after losing, we agreed that although we are both fans of Federer, we have developed a soft spot for Murray. So did anyone watching, mostly in tears.
Elliot pointed out that Federer and Serena Williams were both 30 years old, the winning of the veterans!
Two impressive comments I heard on TV about Federer were:
'A silky underneath with a warrior exterior' and 'A man who can conjure cruelty out of beauty'.
Superb description and wording.
Monday was going to and fro: replacing the flat tyre, another pilates reformer class, and visiting a special sushi place. Must take some control of my food consumption; the next trip in the bikini is fast approaching.
Another new expression I learned from Elliot in the middle of the men's final, when the play stopped before the closure of the roof of the tennis court due to rain, was:
'It ain't over till the fat lady sings!'
He then explained that this phrase began from the Opera. It simply means...
It ain't over till it's over.
Till next time... With Love
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