When the cat's away, the mice will play

Yes, I know. My very first pair of Birkenstocks. I must have been unconscious. Pink "birkies"!? Must be a limited collector´s edition. About seven years old, and used a lot. As you can tell by the look of them. Yuck. Really comfortable, but I hate seeing my footprints in them. Double-yuck. Just because you love shoes does not mean that you necessarily love feet too. For the record - worked out of my home office today. Would not be caught dead in these outside the house. Well, maybe on the way to and from the grocery store, but that would be stretching it to the very limit.

So, "The Cat" is going to New York for a few days. Very good excuse for "The Mouse" to go to London. Visiting my friend. Not so practical to have one of your closest friends located a two-hour flight away, but having a close friend in London definitely has its benefits. And, really, I see her just as often as some of my friends that live in Oslo. Except the ones I work with, that is. (That is really why I have this hidden agenda of trying to talk all of my friends into starting working in the same place as me. Would be very convenient. It really is a pity that most of them are not by far as overly enthusiastic about financial reporting solutions as I am. Those suckers simply do not see the beauty of properly set up intercompany reconciliations.)

Sorry, got a bit carried away there.

I find London quite glamorous. I know my friend might not agree with me on that, but to me - even going to Tesco or Waitrose to buy groceries is an adventure, as the grocery stores in Norway mostly suck. A typical weekend in London would include great food, great wine, serious high-quality black-belt-level shopping, and lots of giggles. If husband comes along, it will most definitely also include a soccer game involving Arsenal, which is ok, but it is also good not to waste precious shopping time on a Saturday afternoon match. Although we DID really have a great time when he booked us all a VIP box at Emirates. I am not that big a soccer fan, but I sure know to appreciate the possibility of ogling Thierry Henry´s ass when he is bending down - preparing for a corner shot. While enjoying a glass of white. (Yeah, I know, he has left the club now, dear! I still weep when I think of that and David Seaman´s terrible porn-star mustache. And, yeah, I know that David Seaman is now retired. But I still remember his pre-mustache looks with great joy.)

For those of you that are starting to get an understanding of who I am, you know that tonight will be a night of frenetic packing. However, London is not the worst place to go if I should happen to (accidentally, I promise!) leave something really critical at home. Like the right shoes.

"But it doesn't matter 'cause I'm packing plastic

And that's what makes my life so fucking fantastic"

(The Fear, Lily Allen)