A comfort zone without boundaries!

I often wonder why we choose so many boundaries to tackle when life can be made so simple?

In London, there are choices of many self-development courses such as Landmark Forum and meditation sessions to help ease the burden of pain we carry through life experiences. Treat yourself to finding happiness. Live and let live.

The last time Hala and I visited Niel and Rory, we asked about their friend Jal, whom we met while dating a QC (Queen's Counsel); Raymon, who was previously married with kids, was now infatuated with Jal. 
Raymon was a respectable-looking, average-height, well-dressed gentleman who had left his family for his newfound love, Jal, a petite, dark fella, lovely but with a confident attitude.
The last time we saw them was at the QC's birthday bash held at a top London night spot, where at a long dinner table, Jal made a point of going around, showing off his new emerald ring, courtesy of his high-class lover. 
Hala and I often wondered about this rather peculiar affair but happily mingled with them and had fun. We each have different needs in life, we are individuals after all. Who's there to judge?
Now, years later, Rory told us their gossip:
"The world is going crazy, Darling!" He continued. "Despite Raymon's many marriage proposals, Jal wasn't keen to give up his total freedom to domestic chores. You're not gonna believe this, but Raymon got fed up and eventually ran off with their Nigerian male cleaner to an island near Africa and bought him a house there! It's not a good look for my friend Jal here. Know what I mean?"

Oh dear. I can't quite point out a moral to this story! But Raymon had certainly pushed his boundaries, and I hope he finds happiness.

My weekend began early on Thursday, visiting a good friend's showcase at a Notting Hill spot with Ernest and Gracy, followed by dinner at E&O. We then continued the evening dancing with Pedro and his gang at the private Arts Club's compact disco to their live band.
I complimented Pedro on his designer blue shirt with an emblem sewn on. Apparently, some guy had told him his shirt was 'not nice'.  
"The idiot was telling you that he doesn't like it." Complained Pedro.
"Which idiot is that?" I asked my friend.
"The Turkish guy at the shop." Exclaimed Pedro.
"Really?" I questioned. "All I remember was seeing your shirt and thinking, wow."
I continued: "Just goes to show... Guess I don't hear idiots!" 

On Friday, I left home at 1pm and returned at 4am the following day!
There was a Christmas open studio at Cockpit Arts in Holborn, where my friend Sina held a workshop. Many craftsmen and women were selling their products, from jewellery to hats, clothing, furniture, lighting, etc.
Later that evening, the decision to go for an early dinner at the Cow with Isabella continued driving to Kentish Town, where her friend's band was performing at a pub. Still, we ended up at the Oxford pub for a drink and continued to the Groucho Club in Soho. Listened to live piano played by a severe lady who failed to smile, and as though that was not enough, we finished the night off at the Kingly Club, where I got hit on by a drunk, tall Englishman. Not interested, I left the place and finally headed home.

Saturday late lunch was at Troy's new pub, accompanied by Dylan and Salar.
Then, I went home for a nap (which never happened) and prepared for another fabulous night at Fabric. While awaiting Salar's arrival there, I found Kalina and Ryan and mingled with them in the DJ booths. Danced to Terry Francis' music in room 3. I went on to room 2, where Judes mentioned my name to Will Saul playing, and he asked to see me. I saw his brother on the dance floor, which was great, and said hi to Will, who told me of his newborn baby while dj-saying. Lee Burridge was the last DJ in room 1 with Craig Richard. Wicked! I met Lee at the Miami music conference and had some amusing photos taken with him and our gang four years ago. Must say he had aged somewhat. 
It was a while since I had seen Gabi, and she did make it there to see me, which was great catching up, shaking our bodies to the tunes and having a girlie talk during smoking breaks, amongst other Fabric friends I have made over the years. I went there on my own, yet, as another friend texted me the next day, he said: 'Haldita, you know too many people there to ever be alone!'

The lonely life is not for me. I thrive on sharing the good times with loved ones. 
Sometimes, those loved ones come and go for whatever reason. Appreciating the good times and letting go of the unnecessary marks left by tormented souls is essential. We all go through those moments in life.

I mustn't do this or shouldn't do that. It does not serve any purpose but leaves one troubled with doubt. Get out of your comfort zone and do something extraordinary outside your normal boundaries.
If you have anything to say... Say it, but also listen to reasoning. 

I just wanna fly!

You set my soul on fire... I'm alive.

It is great hearing the lyrics, but I can't relate to anyone to romance with, except my thoughts run straight up to the sky, to my God. And I smile. He sure does it to me, 'every time'.

I am again 'Home Alone' after five weeks of family moving in and out of my place, loving them each for their being in my life and those moments of Ooopsies. Well, it is family, after all. Life is to cherish one another; it is acceptable to raise questions of doubt at times of their peculiar behaviours, as long as judgement and expectation do not ruin counting their values. None of us are perfect. The lesson is learning how to handle situations with grace and true love.
The saying maybe you can't live with them. But you certainly can't live without them.

The weirdest things keep happening in my daily life.
Last Thursday, before noon, after a pilates class, I took my car for a wash in the open car park. Being a regular, the boys who work there know me. As I exited my automobile to have the inside cleaned, I noticed the two boys standing close by their car behind mine. The aroma of a spliff hit my nostrils, and I turned around, amazed to see the two boys, tall, in caps, oversized tracksuit bottoms and tight shirts to emphasize their muscly chests, passing a big joint onto one another! It was irresistible not to make a comment, so I turned to the bigger lad and said:
"That sure smells good!"
The boy seemed surprised at my remark and exclaimed:
"That was the last thing I thought you would tell me!"
I smiled and said: "See? You should never judge a book by the cover."
To my delight, they offered to pass around their joint to me.
The scene was too surreal to refuse. I stood midday in the middle of that parking lot, smoking with my new buddies. The two puffs were enough to put a large smile on my face to carry on with the rest of my day. I had only just got in the driver's seat when I noticed the car wash attendants had found one of my favourite black diamond loop earrings, though lost two weeks ago. I thanked everyone and left in owe.

In the evening, I was looking forward to meeting with my Croatian connection and at a lavish canape dinner. With the immaculate decoration of scented candles and the giant off-pink roses scattered around the glamour of architecture at our meeting place, accompanied by superb sushi canapes going around, the company of these wonderful friends made the hours pass as a short, flawless dream.  
Dreams can be reality. Moments that take our breath away need not necessarily be a scene on a beach, where the breeze of the night, brushing against one's skin, blows gentle scents of the evening flower into our sense of smell. At the same time, the eyes witness the sparkling stars in an indigo sky, a moon shining bright as a sprinkle onto the seas. It can simply be a connection with another soul.

Friday lunch was at 202 in Notting Hill with Hala.  
Zuma was the designated meeting bar with Donna in the early evening. Our bonding during the long walks in the countryside had left a sweet reflection in my mind, and I looked forward to spending time with my friend. She is genuine, fun, kind and definitely does not judge others. She had asked Suki to leave her books at home and join us for fun; as we finished our cocktails, we headed towards Notting Hill, one of my new favourite gastro pubs. Waiting for a table in the cramped area did not help our rambling stomachs. I gave my name to the waiter to be put on the 45-minute waiting list, and we drove around every restaurant we could think of in the area, unsuccessfully looking for a table of three. What is this recession they are talking about?  
Finally, we returned to the pub, delighted to be seated immediately for half a dozen Scottish oysters. Well, that was my order.

Next to us were two trendy-looking guys who opened a conversation as soon as we settled at our table. The dialogue among the five of us continued through the meal until closing. Suki suggested a Mexican bar where we could hang out and dance, so the boys came along to the next destination, and when that place closed, we appeared at the Electric member's bar. From a passion fruit martini at Zuma's to the Marguerita, followed by a coffee Petrone tequila with ice at the last bar (need I add till they closed too?!), I was feeling joyful. At our table of seven (by now), Donna pointed at a guy sitting at the bar with a friend in black attire, both staring at me. We looked towards them, and their glances would not leave my way. Even though I could not replace the faces, I wondered whether I knew them. We let out a girlie giggle amongst ourselves without a trace of amusement on the faces of our counterparts. Oh well.

At closing time, it seemed one of the starters had followed me to the Ladies'. As I walked out, he was standing next to the photo machine (yes. There's a photo machine outside the toilets in the club). He introduced himself as Mick and asked if I would take four pictures with him! In the boot. Pourquoi pas! In other words, why not. As we all later stood outside the Electric, Mick asked us to return to his place, accompanied by his older, 'too stylish' male friend. Donna looked at him doubtfully and said: "No. We're going home, and I'm giving Haldita a lift."
Although my feet were killing me from the high heels, which were meant to last for a drink and nibbles at Zuma's, and I ended up dancing and walking around Notting Hill all night long, all I wanted was the comfort of my bed. Still, it was amusing watching Mick pull one of my arms, insisting I go back to his place, and my darling Donna pulling the other arm, persisting I am being taken home by her.

Aren't friends just awesome when they watch each other's back?
I adore my family and my buddies. If we can adopt children to be part of our family, why can't we do that with friends? After all, the only consent needed is their mutual love.

It was so cool of my young friend Harun to contact me when he landed for his short visit to London. We met with one of the twin sisters from their party boat in Hvar, Isadora, at Jack's bar for a nightcap.  

One last thing... This afternoon, when we went by the river Thames with Charlotte and her boy to feed the seagulls with the leftover variety of bread from my family visiting, one of the sweet creatures shat on my hair as a token of gratitude; I can only presume!
Let's see what good luck awaits. I never understood what kind of luck can shit bring?! Haha

Power of positive thinking... Time shall tell.

Postmodernism to... Modernism? V&A

What made me reflect on the past recently was visiting the V&A museum for the Postmodernism exhibit.

This was the era of introducing radical freedom to design. Although confrontational and absurd at times, it began a new way of questioning. During the twenty years (1970-1990), a state of no boundaries in fashion, art and music changed our outlook into an autonomous world where the mind dictated expressions like never before. Yet, this freedom has had a price of its own to pay. The world economy boomed with a culture obsessed with wealth and status, demonstrated in the exhibition by Any Warhol's silkscreen of the Dollar sign.  
From fashion designer Vivienne Westwood's over-sized, layered clothing to Annie Lennox's style in playing with gender norms and photos of Grace Jones' striking poses, I overheard the two ladies behind me remarking:
"You just can't believe she's for real. Can you?"

From new designs in jewellery to crockery, the seductive imagery of film and advertising was demonstrated in a 1985 billboard in Times Square by Jenny Holzer, which read:
"Protect me from what I want". A critical reflection on desire, its cause and effects amid the commerce surrounding it. In other words, be careful of what you wish for.
Jeff Koons, a former commodities broker turned artist, captured the decade's fascination with consumer desire, wealth and power in a bust statue of Louis XIV's copy of Bernini, in a tacky, silver finish, 'a strangely intimidating effect'. 
In this postmodern era of radical expansion of possibilities, the question arises:
'Why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday?'

The freedom of expression is priceless. However, there is a cost.  
We were looking forward to a new world in the millennium, a better, peaceful era that is an image lost in war, destruction, and greed.  
Do we really have a say in what is going on around us?
They will soon decide to put a camera up our backsides and charge us for breathing, and yet, we are under the impression of living a modern life where artists can display their imagination in any form.

Well... discussing politics is not my forte. Not because I am unaware of what is happening in this world but simply because 'the news' infuriates every cell of my body.

On a more pleasant note, the week continued with an invite from Aisha to a guest-listed event at The Radical Dining Society with a couple of girlfriends. The basement cave was filled with dressed-up people who did not seem to mingle well except in their crowd. A very fit, half-naked man approached us with pieces of sushi ginger scattered over his muscly chest and offered it to us.  
"Come on, Haldita," offered Aisha, "he wants you to eat a piece."
On second thought, I was not going to eat anything off the chest of a stranger in a heated room, so I prompted:
"Now, if this was chocolate, I'd lick it off you," I said cheekily. "But I don't feel like sushi right now. Thanks."
And on that note, we decided to leave the event. I joined my family at a dinner afterwards.

Thursday was a wine-tasting experience in the Palm restaurant of Belgravia. Charlotte invited me to join Nicolas and his friend Christophe at the dinner. The region where the wines were represented was Rhone, and my favourite wine of the night was a Chateauneuf-du-Pape Blanc 2009. the gentle aroma of this pleasant production was so that I could have easily worn it as a perfume, fruity and citrus in taste with a crisp, dry finish. In the red selection, the Gigondas 2004 was beginning to grow on me until the Cote-Rotie 1999 was introduced. It was a grand selection, but I returned to my first preferred white wine.
After dinner, we headed to Walton Street's new bar, which opened as another off-spring from Jack's restaurant and another bar in the same area. Another bottle of champagne was to end the evening before Charlotte and Nicolas left, and Christophe walked me home gentlemanly with a slightly naughty twist.

Friday... A big night again. A party 'chez Haldita' (at mine) to celebrate my sister Hala, brother Soltan and his adorable fiancee Tuba's arrival in town. A great gathering of as many friends as I could comfortably fit in my living room, accompanied by Soltan's playing great tunes and Gloria's unique voice on the piano, followed by a Tina Turner number, which she sang with everyone joining in... 'You're simply the best'. The place was buzzing with chatter and dancing the night away till the early morning hours.

And then... Came Saturday. Another Fabric night with Hala, Shane, accompanied by Louisa, whom I got to meet and liked from the first instant. Also joining us were Ebi and two of his friends. I had my usual table, and Tiefschwarz were playing. I spent the last hour dancing to their music in the DJ booth with Judes, one of the most remarkable ladies I have met. When they finished playing, and the lights came on at 8am, I managed to get an innocent kiss from one of the DJ brothers!

Well, another week is gone, and a new one is beginning. Let's see what this week has in store in our era of modernism.

Your way is not my way... And my way is not yours

It is easy to say 'find your path', but sometimes it takes a lot of work. What inspired me to write tonight was walking home from the cinema with Angel, Hala and Charlotte. The movie in question was 'The Help'.
It took one black woman to gather enough courage to let her voice, suffocated for years beneath layers of pain, to release its way onto the pages of a book, by a white girl's caring persistence. The best part was when the bubbly maid told her previous, snobbish lady employer: "Eat my shiiit!"

I grew up with a privileged background of a household filled with staff; in my father's and grandfather's home and I recall every single loving member being considered as our family. Some of our best times and laughs was spent in their company. We had a chauffeur who could not pronounce my name; it was different, so he called Hala and me. Halas (with a stretch on the a... Halaaaas!
The first cigarette I smoked was from my nanny, at an early age. Nothing malicious! I am sure she thought rather than persist, let me have a puff or two and get it over my system. Well, perhaps that method does not always work, although the majority of us remember how skilfully we managed to try out our first cigarette without the grown-ups finding out.

On the subject of racism, I recall taking my very young children to a London private sports club in London many years ago. It was the end of summer and our dark tan was glowing amongst the pale skin of the swimmers, inside and outside the pool. As the three of us were occupied with the games and fun of enjoying the water, a boy of barely two years of age, approached us, sucking his thumb, lying on his tube and uttered these insults our way:
"I hate you. I hate you. You're black!"
You could possibly visage the look of horror on my face. What makes a child, almost a baby, utter such words of disgust I thought, unless he heard it from his elders. But my outrage was beyond trying to hide the anger in me and I asked the child:
"Where's your mother?"
At my persistence, he pointed towards a woman, standing by the stairs of the pool. I moved closer in the water and asked:
"Is that your child?"
She nodded, totally uninterested in what I had to say.  
But I continued: "Did you just hear what your child said?" And I went on to repeat his words.
The mother simply brushed me off with a hand gesture and uttered:
"Oh! Get lost."
Although this was many years ago, it is sad to think that racism still exists. I am not black, and God knows I try to get as dark as my skin could possibly turn under the sun, but to think how any black person could perhaps bear such insult is beyond me. The best answer to a fool is silence.

I then recalled our trips with my parents and their friends to the most exotic spots of the world every Christmas and Easter holiday while Hala and I were at boarding school.  
On our visit to South Africa, one evening, we were driven to an amazing musical in Johannesburg. As I sat myself down in the back seat of the taxi, that new, latest style navy pants, with a slight silky shine I was wearing tore open at the back and I walked out into the theater with my navy cardigan hung around my waste.  
Our day tour to Pretoria was memorable with a garden full of tall flowers, so clean and tidy, followed by a drive to watch a tribal dance where uncle Has, joined in their circle to follow their moves. We were in hysterics.
We were a jolly crowd and every trip was filled with laughter and great memories.

On our stay at the elegant President Hotel in Cape Town, all dressed up one evening after dinner, the men retired back to the rooms while my mum Angel and one of the ladies in our group, Hala and I decided to pay a visit to the hotel's very stylish disco in the basement.
We were seated on the navy velvet sofas, next to a German couple, whom we noticed by the pool earlier with their two young off-springs, each accompanied by a Filipino nanny. After a short conversation, they insisted on inviting us to a glass of champagne and went on to boast about their convertible blue Royce Roys which they had brought down for their visit, amongst the lady in the long chiffon dress' tiara and the man's diamond buttons on his white shirt, under his tuxedo. They were fun.

Shortly after, Professor Christian Barnard appeared through the entrance of the club with an entourage. Mr Barnard had carried out the first open heart transplant and was giving a lecture at our hotel to a host of journalists flown in for the occasion.
I noticed a young, fit man in a smart suit approaching. He slightly bent towards me, introduced himself and asked for my hand on the dance floor. I agreed. The music was slow and he drew me towards him, held my left hand in his, next to his chest as we positioned our right arms around one another. That's the way it was done those days!
He also happened to be German, working for one of their reputable newspapers, interviewing Mr Barnard earlier. His flattering words grew my smile wider, while I flicked my lashes gently up and down, looking up at the handsome stranger.
Name? No idea. He then asked me to accompany him for a breath of fresh air, in the grounds of our residence. We walked under the dark sky, on the green grass by the pool, towards the ebony ocean, lit partly by the full moon shining upon it.
Being in my late teens, the romance of the moment, the gentle brush of the breeze against my skin and the compliments of the tall, handsome stranger with a manly voice was erupting as a volcano in my being. I was powerless in his gentle kisses. 
He then carried me in his strong arms, as a scene from 'Gone with the Wind' and walked back towards our residence. I felt it necessary to explain my situation and said apologetically: 
"Sorry, but I'm a virgin!"
He became rather irritated at the remark and laughingly said:
"You're joking with me. Right? In this day and age? Who can be a virgin at your age!"
"No," I said innocently, "It's the truth. I am."
Thinking back, thank goodness he did not drop me to the ground there and then! But gently put me down, while I ran back to the disco to join my family.

At the time we visited South Africa, it was during the Apartheid. Perhaps I was too young or was never exposed to any sort of racism at home to understand the real depth of the situation. What was confusing with the dark tan Hala and I had acquired during our visit, it was hard to decide which public toilet; as in white ladies' or black ladies' we should go to. Even the buses were separated for the whites and the blacks. It brings sadness to think such a world existed.

I follow the good Budda's words of wisdom:
No one is below or above me. We are all one.

Free Your Mind and You Can Fly!

Wouldn't it be great if we left our inhibitions behind and felt free to talk to anyone we felt  ke talking to? Just because... 

Aldo and I were walking down the road to Blake's Hotel for a drink with Sophie, and in deep conversation when I noticed a girl smiling pass us by. I interrupted Aldo and turned to the girl, and said:
"You just keep that beautiful smile going. It's gorgeous. It's contagious!"
Her smile grew wider, and my friend looked at me and said:
"That was amazing Haldita!"

Last week began with a lavish dinner at Aisha's. Serge from Mykonos was in town and my friend who could well be one of the top chefs absolutely anywhere, had organised a sit down gathering around her dark wooden dining table, covered with divine dishes of various parts of the world. I could not possibly write a recipe as my passion for cooking died many years ago, when invited to a lavish dinner with the Ex. The ladies, mostly jeweled-up, could not stop talking about their love of cookery and exchanging long recipes and how some made jam and their home-made pickles well. The conversation would carry on through to the end of the night! Thank goodness, the hubbies had to go to work the next day and they never lasted too long. But long enough for me to think, 'I don't particularly enjoy cooking'. Although I did it well enough for many dinner parties and every night for my family when my kids were growing up, when I started working on our business in later years, cooking became a thing f the past. I had a great housekeeper, to whom I taught all my recipes and totally re red from it. But I love the taste of home-made food prepared with love and passion.

Mid week, Hala and I were invited for a drink by Serge, at the bar of the hotel he  s staying at.  The conversation diverted to loving the people we meet, without judgement and sharing the good t es with them. It is not about who they are and what they an give back. Some stay in our lives and come back in the most extraordinary ways and others fly by and life goes on.  
Aisha joined us after dinner at the Arts Club with Soraya and Mazin, whom I last aw in Mykonos. They were isiting London. How wonderful! The drinks continued on with more friends of Aisha's joining and at 1am, we each parted  r separate ways.  Some went clubb g, we went home. How sensible!

Family dinners took up the rest of the week until Saturday arrived... Oh Oh!
Well, Fabric was definitely an option I opted for. At the entrance, who do we see but Troy who had insisted earlier, he was not going to show up that night in Fabric again and... here he was! Cool. Salar and his uncle had shown up in total Hallow n costume and make-up. Salar's cape was awesome!
I wore my black horns on a headband, with the devil's fork to match the headgear, one red and black feather earring and a black Norma Kamali Greek style mini dress.  

Had managed to persuade Janet to join Hala and I, as she had been working hard on a project and could well do with a  ght out of fun with us. While I drove the three of us through the scenic route of the embankment by the river Thames, at the traffic lights by the Big Ben, I noticed the lights of the large clock were off and the hands demonstrated midnight.
"Ah!" I said aloud, "Big Ben says midnight exactly! It's Cinderella time and we're off to the ball.  But why is the light behind the clock off?!"
Hala and Janet got excited, but I then noticed the time in my car and it read '12:33'!
"Gosh!" I gasped, "Big Ben isn't working?!"
"Oh no!" Janet exclaimed at the same time as Hala. "Really?"
"Ah!" I realised, It's change of clock tonight. Didn't know Big Ben stops for an hour till the hour changes. Never thought about it!"
We all agreed.
I continued: "And imagine witnessing this! It only happens once a year."
And in case you were thinking it happens twice (the time change) as Conor pointed out at drinks tonight: "No. Since the next time it goes forward an hour."
Oh well, another fun memory added to experience.

The night con nued at Fabric with great music. As I did not reserve a table, we  ttled at the DJ boot in room one. Michael Mayer was great and cute. Can't believe what I told him:
"I'm Haldita, the horny little devil!"
He smiled at my comment and I danced away, in great company of my buddies but honestly when I think back, all I meant to say was 'a little devil with horns!'  

With all the lovely hugs I get from the security boys on the way to the smoking outdoor area, surrounded by tall trees and buildings, amongst mostly groups of y ngsters standing, I noticed a face. Really... What makes a face stand out more than all the rest of the any men and women standing in a crowd? Is it the energies that draw one towards another. Is it an aspect of the souls connecting? Something to do with past lives? I often wonder. But don't question it too much.  Interesting though.
I walked straight towards him and his friend and somehow, conversation flew between us.  Thinking back Many years, it would be terrifying for me to even look at someone out of shyness, let alone talk to them! Anyway, the past is the past but it is great to reflect upon it and see how much we can all change our thoughts, our ways and our life.

The ace was called Blaze. Absolutely charming. His friends engaged in conversation with me and asked to take a photo of Blaze with us girls. As we posed for a devilish picture, I kissed Blaze's cheek which he seemed to hang on to with his hand. We had a good laugh and went back for more music and dancing. The clocks had been changed and the early morning hours were approaching fast. Our entourage had left the club but Hala and I, before getting home, sat our tired legs on the paved, uneven ground in the Green room which looked more like an open air ashtray, breathed in the freshness of the last October morning, so pleasant and thanked our Lord for absolutely Everything.

I must add, another smiley, beautiful face I got to meet was of Marisa's. She bent down to ask me for a lighter when our eyes met, in that same smoking area. I helplessly told her how  beautiful she is and she responded the same back. She told me her friends often told her, she always smiled and she said:
"I'm grateful and happy to be alive and well... So I smile for it."
So much beauty shone through the wisdom of her very young years.  
If only I could bottle my joy, I told a friend who suggested I bottle my energy and sell it, I would do it by the millions and simply give it away with absolute pleasure. 

Keep thinking... Life is about love... About sharing... About caring.


 

Fabric Anniversary... Not to be missed!

It was the twelfth Fabric anniversary weekend; it was open from Saturday 11pm to Monday 6am!  Not that I intended to stay that long! 

We have a whole house here, with Mum, Uncle Ken and his loving wife, Laura, visiting from the US. I suppose it was odd for Hala and I to leave the apartment at 12:40am, long after their sleeping hour, to go raving. But let's face it, I am blessed with a great, understanding family.  Guess I learned the suitable lessons of non-judgement from them.

Hala and I arrived at the Fabric entrance to find Troy waiting outside for us.  He had texted earlier to say he would not make it due to work. Yeah right!  I knew he would turn up. Fabric is a club, a dark dungeon with hard beats to some, but to me, it is where I learned many lessons, heard some wicked music and got to meet some very cool-minded younger friends. Someone recently told me their aunt is 85 years old and full of energy. When I asked, her secret was keeping more youthful to any age entourage, doing aerobics regularly and keeping a young mind. 'Hear Hear' to that.
I am on the right track there.

What makes my boat rock is being happy and seeing everyone around me feel the same way.  I have met many (well, not that many), but some people whose reaction towards the word drug of any sort is filled with disgust. Yet, they drink alcohol like fish and water. Others take prescription drugs to their heart's content (or not as content as it appears). It seems most people have their vices, but when it comes down to something they have not tried before, they take it into their stride to label another for theirs. So much hypocrisy going on in this world. But we won't get into that! I personally don't live my life for others.  The secret here is moderation.

On that note, we got to Fabric at 1am and danced the night away, from a table of six to a table of God knows how many showed up during the long hours of the night. It was another fantastic time, with a great vibe, dancing to the best of House music, and all the loving embraces. Just about everyone had turned up to celebrate. The list of names is way too long to add! It was special having the young and beautiful Serina join us, especially since we have a good circle of mutual friends. It must be said beauty, to me, forms a combination of an inside and outside aura.
Finally, Aisha and Pedro surprised me with a short visit to Fabric, too!  
Oh, what a night... And morning!
The only shame was that my legs were giving in by the time Ricardo Villalobos began playing at 10am. I wanted to continue dancing, but I could not, and sitting on the leather sofas was not an option. Besides, I had a date in the evening. So... Hala and I left our friends behind.

It reminded me of a story...
Some time ago, I met up with Fabrizio on a New Year's Eve afternoon for a drink.  
When I asked him whether he had plans for the end of the year's celebrations that night, he did not and seemed happy to join me. So, off we went for a New Year's dinner at Isabella's. She had a handful of friends, some visiting London, and after midnight and the big bang, we taxied our way to Fabric. It was a fun night, as always and at midday, I invited three mini-cabs of people over to mine for an after-party. It was around early evening when everyone left except the hunky Fabrizio! It was the beginning of a love affair; the only thing is, mine don't seem to last longer than a very short period!  
Two weeks later, a hint of boredom was daunting to me. The feeling is usually mutual, I presume. 

The last time we met, Fabrizio joined me at Fabric again with another group of friends.  As I was chasing the sound of various DJs playing from one room to another, I noticed Fabrizio chatting to a girl at the bar; I smiled and left.  My motto is 'Never stay with someone who does not fully appreciate the person you are'. That goes for friends and lovers alike. A total waste of time.

Most of my friends at our table had left by the early morning hours, and I proceeded to the only room left with a DJ playing.  As I was dancing alone, one of the cutest guys with curly, longish hair moved closer, and we took on a duo boogie like no other. I was having a ball with my new dancing Latino partner, Carlos. He kept smiling and calling me:
"Youuuu, sexy mother fucker!" In the best of intentions, I am sure. He made me laugh. Carlos also mentioned celebrating his last weekend in London before returning to Argentina. At the club's closing hour, we both realised our friends had left, and I asked him to join me at the after-party upstairs, to which he agreed.

As we passed by the closing bar, he excused himself for a visit to the gents, and I saw Fabrizio approaching from the bar, thinking of going back with me. Don't think so!
I looked at his face, full of attitude, as he said:
"Let's go."
"Go where?" I asked in surprise.
"Your place," Fabrizio answered, sure of himself.
"No." I simply answered. "We're definitely not going anywhere from here. In fact, ciao baby."
As I left his side, my new buddy Carlos walked towards me and offered his arm to accompany me to the after-party. I am no bitch and usually don't get a kick from letting anyone down, but in this case, I did not look back and felt a certain tingle of joy. He certainly deserved what he got.
And hence, that was the end of my two-week lust affair!  

"Darling!" Said once an older lady family member who dressed and behaved eccentrically to what others expected her to. She continued:
"Let people talk! It only means you are interesting and alive. Besides, if they don't talk about you, you might as well be dead."

Gossip is for the weak. Don't get entangled in what others think of you. Be yourself.

Mamma's Words of Wisdom

The warmth and love of family is incomparable.

The weekend was spent at a course with Charlotte to enlighten us further towards our new business venture. I got home on Sunday afternoon to the arrival of Angel, my darling mamma and Hala, who were picked up at the airport by my kiddos. It is such a wonderfully warm feeling to have a whole house filled with their love.

It reminds me of those teenage days, living together in harmony and laughter.  
To appreciate the beauty in nature despite all the difficulties surrounding us.  

My mother's treasured lessons on Life...

Life is precious, my dear, not to be taken for granted, 
birds are flying in cheer, and flowers have been planted.
They are for you to watch, be chilled, be enchanted.
Run wild with your thoughts; leave the heart free to be panted.
Do not waste these times, don't take no for an answer,
and make your moves into rhyme, like a poetic dancer.
Life is not all we ask for,
Not quite the melody of a shore.

Life is a flash, it's lightening, hold your chin up,
follow your heart to the end and make a pin-up.
Half full, half empty, is not essential after all; 

Take the journey with a stride; play it like a ball.
No moment to be wasted,
Every flavour is to be tasted.

Love life like no one has dared before;
don't take it for granted and turn it into a chore.
Dance till tomorrow like no one is looking,
I know you, my dearest, you don't like cooking.
Leave footsteps, like your grandfather did,
It's not all about who makes the highest bid.
Aim high, play deaf to the gossip of the small-minded,
They have too many issues, their beauty is blinded,
By the pettiness of what the poor souls face.

Life is a rhythm; it is to be lived in grace,

And nothing you hear, nothing is a chase.

Continue your life on a positive note, sweet and creamy,
Flow on the sea in a boat can be so dreamy.
Sail across the ocean like there is no tomorrow,
Make life a fantasy; don't turn it into sorrow.

I love you, Mamma. Mum's the word.