One of my very best friends was in London over Easter. The kind of trip where she made the time to stop over in London before her friends wedding in India. I’d missed her, I’d missed her a ridiculous amount.

She was the girl I’d vent to, gossip with, and squee over. We shared the (in)significant details of our lives with each other. Hopes and fears. We’d adventure together, and I know that if I ever needed someone to get up to mischief with, if I needed a wingman or even just someone to drive around with so I could cry, laugh or vent, she was it.

Before I left home I saw her almost every day. The day I left home, I was already crying when I hugged her goodbye at the airport. And last week? Last week we spent four brilliant days trapezing about London. There was mayhem, mischief and madness.

We hit up a fair few of London’s landmarks (Big Ben, the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, London Bridge/Tower Bridge, The Tower of London, Buckingham Palace), wandered around the Thames + down near South bank. London really put on a show that weekend. It was blue skies + warmth, all day everyday. We were wandering about in shorts + jandals most days, and nights we’d switch out in skirts + heels.

We shopped. We shopped for dresses, and rockin colours and for skirts and cute shorts and jeans. We brought carebear shirts and mugs in Harrods. I watched as she tried on £3500 shoes in Christian Louboutin. We hit up the Bricklane markets for all its random vintage handmade stalls, and then we ate a mad amount of amazing food. We tried all sorts, and kept eating until we literally couldn’t eat anymore. We wandered past stalls and admired the rad street pieces that are around there (invader, vhils, roa to name a few). We drank coffee in hip record stores and chatted up cute boys selling yogurt.

And oh man, the food. We ate a ridiculous amount of food. I took her to all my favourite food places. We had thai dumplings at Pingpong, and burgers at GBK. We had burritos at Benitos Hat, and Pizza at Fire + Stone. We made pie, and we ate Goo.

And we drank. Oh how we drank! There were cocktails in Soho, where we were stood up by a bouncer, but met a Hungarian bartender who flirted + fed us passionfruit. There were cocktails at West End Lane, where we hurt a suitors feelings and he called us horrible things (like retards + harridans. He hoped we would die in a pile of stinking pus. Or something like that. It was quite a rant). It was awkward, and all kinds of hilarious (especially because he mistook my genuine apology + questions for mockage. And then he tried the same on another group of girls + got kicked out). We were invited to a lock in by Alex-the-Great, only to drunkingly give him the wrong number. It was awkward the next morning when we went back for brunch and he was still there. We gave him the right number but I don’t think he was impressed!

In Harrods we convinced the security guard + shopping attendant that we wanted to buy an outdoor couch shaped like an apple (looks like this) which meant not only did we get to sit in it for as long as we wanted (a good half hour at least), but we shamed out the security guard + had tourists taking photos of us.

But the best bit? The best bit was the quiet moments, where it was like we hadn’t spent the last 5 months on opposite sides of the world. Where we’d sit and gossip like old times. Where we’d stretch out and just share whatever was currently going through our heads + hearts. Catching up. It was the best. I’d forgotten what it was like to have confidant. To have that one person who you could share anything with knowing you weren’t going to be judged. That there would be no adverse reaction. That no matter what you said, or thought, or did, you’d be supported. You’d probably be laughed at too, but that was the nature of our friendship, really.

It’s been about a week, and I miss her already. I’m hanging out for the next visit.

Getting On Famously

I danced around the living room with Mac. We were all arms + legs + movement. BM was on the piano, doing that thing that he does. (You know, where he hears a song for the first time, and then plays it perfect straight off the bat). He was happy to play all our favourite pop hits, laughing as those of us who can’t sing sang at the top of our lungs. Dance Monkey, Dance! Lina laughed at us too, just as involved by watching as we were by dancing.

It was just one night of many, but oh! We had a great time. A brilliant, brilliant time.

I love these people. I’m sad that we’ve only just solidified as a crew and there isn’t time for it to grow into something more. I am glad that even this late in the game, it happened. We’re the kind of crew where it doesn’t matter where we are. Whether it’s in a fancy restaurant with bottles of champagne, or in Lina’s living room, over pizza in an empty bar, or bar hopping in Ponsonby. Whether I’m dancing with Mac at one of BM’s gigs, or sitting in Lina’s bedroom gossiping about broken fairy tales.

Wherever, we are, it’s consistently brilliant. We get on famously, with no drama between us. It just works, you know? Whether it’s belly laughing in silence, tears running down our cheeks, or whether we’re being belligerent with the waiting staff, or even if we’re helping each other out of awkward situations.Whether we’re dancing in a club full of people, or whether it’s just us four, dancing in someone’s lounge.

They are my people. They are what makes my week, every week, week after week. They are they very definition of friendship.

I <3 them, and I miss them already. I’m finding it hard to imagine a week without them. The idea of leaving them behind is absolutely heartbreaking. I’m glad people like these ones are in my life. I’m absolutely gutted that I’m leaving them behind.

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Leaving?

It was meant to be my leaving dinner, the last hurrah with us 4, but it didn't feel like it. It wasn't bittersweet, not quite tinged with the idea that I might be leaving these people soon. Instead it was all about the moment, drinking two sweet bottles of champagne, ordering a second pot of mussles, and then a third. Laughing at each others moments, mocking the downfalls ("She was chubby, that was why!") and high fiving as we took on the waiting staff, and said waiters rose to the challenge.

It felt more like summer had come early, laughing with these people who I love and adore. Stealing gingerbread cookies from the waitress, smashing glasses full of mousse to get to the waffles. Encouraging job interviews, and requesting songs for the next gig. Basking in encouragement and ego inducing statements, more bubbles, more fries, more laughter.

It wasn't till I got home that I was sad, where I realised that I was leaving these people behind. Who would I spend Wednesday nights with? Picking apart our weeks, figuring it all out, cheering on the highs, and comiserating the lows with. Who would I drink with on Thursday nights? Sharing pizza and mocking the style of awkward self-aware guitarists.

These people make my weeks brilliant. Consistently, every week, they make my life better. Which is why I think the leaving dinner didn't feel like a leaving dinner. It was a high point of my week. It wasn't until I realised that I'm going to leave these people behind that I got sad.

I'll miss them. I'll just plain miss them.

There was going to be a video. I carefully documented everything via video. But let’s be honest, with all the grand adventurous things that are going at the moment, making a video about cheese is low on the priority list.

But one exciting Saturday months and months ago (October, I think?), The Fourth Quarter, Lina and I made cheese. Actual cheese. From Milk. MILK!

It was pretty easy, and has alot of sitting around and wait for milk to be hot moments where we all hung out and just gossiped. A pretty amazing day, with some pretty amazing people.

It was actually pretty amazing. I can’t remember the exact recipe, but it goes something like:

* Take 10L of non-homogenised milk and put it in a water bath and heat milk.
* Add culture and rennet (we used vegetarian rennet, yay!)
* Leave it alone for 40 minutes to become cheese. Yeah!
* Cut the wobbly elastic-y stuff on top into 1cm cubes. This was tricky, and my cutting skill was not awesome.
* Let it sit some more
* Scoop it out into cheese cloth, and put into a press. (Handy fact: 10 Litres of water is apparently the same as 10kgs!)
* Add vinegar to the whey, and as it becomes cheese and floats the top, scoop it up and put it in a cheese cloth.
* When you’ve got it all, let the cheese drain (this is the ricotta!)
* Once the pressed cheese is pressed, cut into squares.
* Salt one half (yeah, this is the feta!)
* Heat the whey, and put the other half in. When it’s done and is floating to the surface, take it out.
* Sprinkle with salt + mint on one side, and then fold it in a half. (This is the Haloumi, woo!)

The final product: Feta, Ricotta, and Haloumi.

We pretty much fried up the Haloumi and ate it straight away. The Ricotta went soon after. We had enough feta to last us for a while, so we left the feta for a day. Resalted it, and then put it in jars with sun-dried tomatoes + rosemary to eat later. Looked like this. And let me tell you, it was SO GOOD.

And you know what? Cheese is absolutely tastier when you’ve made it.

Hurrah! Number 75 on The List, done!

The Day: Monday 25 October 2010. Labour Day.

I’d slept late, deliciously late. I’d been woken earlier, barely registering my sister leaving at 6.30, padding through the kitchen to let the dog out, the rest of the household moving about their morning. Comforting morning noises that don’t disrupt sleep as much as they confirm that everything is as it should be. I stretched, and spent a good while paying the pup attention as he snuggled up to me, delighted that I was now awake.

I checked my phone, declined a breakfast + situation I didn’t want to address just yet. Txt a friend to say I was awake, but not yet ready for guests. Spent a delicious half hour checking the internet from bed. Twitter. Facebook. Pocket Empires.

I got up, and dressed. Washed my face, and armed with my book + phone went out to see what everyone else was doing. The kitchen was a bombshell, and I could see my Dad + his partner reading in the garden post breakfast. Books, and newspapers and coffees fought for space on the outdoor table with empty breakfast dishes. I rather leisurely made breakfast. Marmite Toast, fancy grilled cheese toast that I found in the fridge. A pacific rose apple. A bottle of Lime Water. I cleaned up both my mess and theirs as I went. Dishes in the dishwasher. Wiped down the bench. Bits of cheese fed to the waiting Pup.

I took my breakfast out into the garden, and sat in the sun. The delightful, amazing sun. The weather was putting it on for us today. Blue skies with a breeze just soft enough to cool without being cold. We chatted. About our days. Our doings of last night. Our travel plans. I picked up my book (Eat, Pray, Love) and it was delicious. Sitting out in the sun, being warm, reading my book, eating a very leisurely breakfast was absolutely divine. At some point I watered my lime tree, glad it was still alive, and that I hadn’t done anything yet to harm it.

Eventually I realised that time had passed sooner than I thought it had. I txt said friend to say it was safe to arrive, and I set about getting things ready for cheese making. Washing utensils in soapy water, then in a sterilizing bath. Wiping down surfaces. Setting up the water bath. My friend arrived soon enough. Bringing with her enough food to feed an army. Breads, and dips and cheeses. Milk for own cheese, too.

We set about making said cheese. Following the instructions, heating milk and stirring when needed. Gossiping as we went, slowly catching up on small details that we’d missed the night before. Insights that we’d had, what we thought. Confirmation that it was okay to feel what we were feeling. Think what we were thinking. Glad that we had such a friendship, and that it was so easy.

The great thing about making cheese is that alot of the time you just have to let it become cheese. The first break was 45 minutes long, so we left the cheese to become cheese, and ventured back out into the garden. Armed with plates of breads and dips. Big glass decanters filled with lemon watter, and freshly squeezed juice made from oranges grown in our backyard.

We ate, and talked and baked in the sun. Occasionally moving to the shade provided by the umbrella as it got too hot. Moving back out again as we cooled. We discussed anything and everything. Bits of books we liked. People we knew. Sticky situations we were in. Friendships that were difficult. The jobs we had. Movies we wanted to see. It was casual, and easy. Conversation was an easy comfortable flow. The food was divine (I am a big fan of breads and dips) and the day was gorgeous. I was glad to be out and enjoying it.

We eventually left the food outside to finish making cheese. It was a process of measuring tempretures and scooping curds from whey. Letting some all knit together in a press, and heating other bits. It was a fun process, mostly for the company and the conversation than the process itself. Sibling came home at some point. She was essay writing, and would go through phases of productivity + procrastination. The later which involved hanging out in the kitchen with us to gossip.

Between making cheese I spent some time putting movies + tv + music onto a harddrive. Making sure it all fit and was named appropriately. I also kicked off the downloads for the latest episodes of the shows I’m watching at the moment, so I could share those, too.

When I returned to the kitchen, we were feelin a little more confident about the cheese making process. Some improvising was required, but we got there in the end. Lyth arrived, and I was glad to see him. We sat, and talked, and waited for the cheese to become cheese. We were stoked when we had something that resembled cheese that we recognized. We made Feta, and Ricotta and Haloumi.

The moment the Haloumi was done, we fried up two sections, called out to Sibling, and ventured back out in the garden to eat it. The breads we’d left in the sun had been toasted a little, which was amusing. Still tasty when slathered with kumara + pumpkin dip and topped with fried haloumi. There is not alot better than fried haloumi that you’ve just made. We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the sun. Drinking wine, discussing nothing of real importance. It was about enjoying the heat, and the company. About being so full of incredibly good food, and satisfied about having successfully made cheese that was delicious. Quinn barked an awful lot at a phantom dog that he could hear, but not see. It was an incredible simple afternoon, so there isn’t alot to report about those amazing few hours in the sun. We all got a little bit browner. We all relaxed a little bit more. Got to know each other a little better. Made some plans about the upcoming week. Dinners. Movies to see.

Lyth left, first. My friend Kat a while after. Sibling and I continued to sit in the sun. Talked about travel plans, and what to get our folks for Christmas. I set about cleaning up, both the garden (which was now littered with plates and crumbs, the food having been consumed) and the kitchen + all the cheese making gear. I broke a pot, which I was a little gutted about. But being in the sun all day has this amazing ability to make you sleepy, and relaxed. I didn’t care too much about the pot. I’d replace it, when I got a chance. Small little things like a broken pot aren’t important in the great scheme of things.

I watched a little Harry Potter with Dad, before watching the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy. This was followed by a nap. Days spent all day in the sun relaxing definitely need naps. It felt indulgent. But then, today was definitely an indulgent kind of day. Relaxing for relaxing’s sake. Taking pleasure in the small things. Food, good company, family and amusing little dogs.

I showered after the nap. A ridiculously long and hot shower. After which I cleaned the shower, because it was my turn and a simple thing to do. I blogged for a while. Helped myself to the icecream that was in the freezer, and more of the brilliant home made orange juice. I moisturised, because my skin was definitely feeling the effects of the sun. I’d taken to running at lunch, and the past week has been nothing but blue skies. At that to a day at the snow (goggle tan, much?) and a spending yesterday on a couch in the sun… while I wasn’t yet sunburnt, if I wasn’t careful I’d peel.

I crawled into bed with the pup, and lined up the rest of my shows. I fell asleep during Dexter. I shouldn’t watch that show before bed, but its a show I don’t mind missing, so its okay to fall asleep too. when I’m at home, I find it difficult to fall asleep any other way now. *shrug*

It was a brilliant day. A holiday for a start, but fraught with introspective moments about taking a moment to relax, and enjoy whats here. I could have been doing many other productive things (I have too many web design projects on at the moment, for a start. There’s also the unplanned details of this giant travel adventure I’m taking) but instead I took the time to enjoy today.

So, yes. A Day In The Life. Monday 25 October 2010. Labour Day.

[edit] This is possibly the most boring post I’ve ever written. [/edit]

A few weeks ago, I had some celebratory birthday drinks. To be honest, it was a bit of a mixed night for me. Most of it was brilliant, really really brilliant. There was a nice low key dinner with my besties, and then drinks at a bar that was a little less low-key. I had a tab at the bar, and to drink on the tab you had to raise your empty glass and say “To Elly, on her birthday”. To which the bartender would reply “And to many more to come”. I’m told that faithfully, each one of my friends did. Broome was apparently the most enthusiastic. Dave by far the least. But that’s okay. It was his second night at the bar and he doesn’t really know how we roll yet. But to my friends that did? I <3 you so much for indulging me. I <3 you a ridiculous amount.

And I have to say, most of my friends were brilliant. Taking the time to dance with me, and drink with me and make me laugh. One even baked me a cake! And it had candles! And the bar sang me happy birthday! It was one of those heart bursting but super embarrassing moments that I'll forever love Lina for. I danced a lot. I drank a silly amount of cocktails. I talked to a lot of people, and generally had a good time.

But oh the drama. Some of it was my doing, yes. (I should figure out how to ignore Irish Accents. I really really should). But a lot of it? A lot of it was not my doing, and I got it in snips and snaps throughout the night. And honestly? I really did not want to deal with it. Once I realised what was going on, I did the less than responsible thing. I got myself another drink and I found other people to hang out with. I didn’t really want to get involved in any of the drama.

I’m a bit sad that I did that, but it worked out (for me) in the end. The people I ended up hanging with were glad to make it a happy go lucky night. To flirt and laugh and tell silly stories. To spend time with me, to provide a few drama-free moments.

I’m super grateful to the bar staff, for being as amazing as they were. For indulging my tab rules, and making me silly coloured cocktails, and rescuing me from awkward situations. I’m grateful to the kitchen staff, for helping Kat with the cake, and being so lovely to her. I’m grateful for the people that showed up, to drink with me and wish me well. To Jimmy & the Goodbrew, who played an amazing set. To the strangers that sang me happy birthday, and the people that brought me drinks, even as I was trying to buy them one. To the lady who had her dog sing me happy birthday. Twice.

And so another year. Here’s hoping for many more to come.