It's sunny. It's about to be a long weekend. I ate eggs and avocado for breakfast.
I feel very lucky right now to get to live in Brighton and work on the South Bank. This week, I have seen open-air theatre at the end of my road and a giant hamster trundling past my office. True stories, both (see: my Instagram).
This weekend, I will be hanging out with dear family and friends to celebrate my mother's upcoming wedding. My bag is packed with a sage smudge stick, a turban, my swimsuit and a lot of eyeliner.
Whenever I feel filled with such inexplicable little everyday joys, this is my psychic soundtrack song. It is in my head today. Last listened to in Ibiza on a trampoline while my friends were still in bed, I sang along quietly to myself and literally wept with joy. It still reminds me of Saturday mornings in my first flat in Brighton, windows open and dancing around the kitchen.
Beautiful Elliott. Face of a boxer, voice of an angel - still the hottest juxtaposition there is.
"I may not seem quite right - but I'm not fucked, not quite."