Patron Saint of Bulging Suitcases

Yawn. I arrived in my flat at midnight, arms aching from kilos worth of last-minute airport purchases (magazines and chocolate bars) on top of my trusty grey textile Samsonite suitcase (thankfully of the trolley kind) which had never been as full as on yesterday's journey. Now I know what "bursting at the seams looks like". Hey, I could go on Wetten, dass...? , trying to squeeze yet another 100 articles into a case that already looks fit to explode.

London was lovely as usual, as was hanging out with l'Italiana and my other lovely friend who lives in London (too tired and unispired to give her a nickname now) and whom I've known since we were both 17.

On Saturday, I dragged l'Italiana from one shop into the next until I realised that her eyelids had dropped to her knees and she was only giving me robotic replies of the "uh-hn" kind. Being the selfless friend I am, I allowed for a quick pit stop at Pret before we continued our my mission.

Thanks to l'I and the fact that she'd recently bought a pair of Guess jeans in N.Y. she didn't like on herself by the time she tried them on again at home I returned to Vienna with 2 pairs of cool jeans (the other is a pair of ultra-skinny jeans from Uniqlo I'll have to shoehorn myself into). Note, these were entirely justifyable purchases as unlike in my present job, I'll be able to wear them in the new one. Hah!

In between raiding the stores, I managed to squeeze a bit of (pop) culture in, seeing two exhibitions and a film.

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Tomorrow we won't have internet at the office all day because of a server change. Everyone's already talking about how they'll (not) cope. Whatever did we do all day before we had internet access I wonder.