In which I nip home, worship beans and remember there is just no hiding from the “London weird night out”

It was with a blurry head and bloodshot eyes that I arrived into London having made the now all too familiar flight back from Costa Rica. With a year´s worth of luggage to drag onto the tube and into a taxi I didn't have much energy for mopping over leaving though. I managed to haul my Tica life possessions all the way to Kings Cross on the tube then gave up the fight and dragged them to a taxi. Driving through the drizzly, graffiti covered streets of East London, retracing the cab ride that had taken me from my London life on the way out, I was so excited to be back home! New bars and galleries called to me from the fogged up windows while the streets were full of the most interestingly dressed people I had ever seen! It was a feast for my sleepy eyes.

I arrived at Ciara´s and filled her room with my junk (habit of a life time) before dragging her off for a good old English breakfast! Ahhh hashbrowns and beans! (Fran had come to visit a few weeks before which was awesome, and really warrants a blog which I may try and slot in somewhere. He had brought me 7 cans of beans as well as an awesome Will and Kate tea towel, so the taste sensation wasn't all new but it was good to be back in a greasy spoon.) Crashed out sleeping for 3 hours before dragging my tired butt out to meet Sho and Ella at The Reliance (my and Sho´s regular). First real pint in ages went down well as did catching up with these amazing ladies. I popped off to get a briefing on Barbados from Terry and his wife which was really exciting and certainly helped pump up the adrenalin. Just as well because I nipped back to see Ella and Sho again and ended up in The Macbeth, with my face painted like a cat dancing to Shaggy's My Boombastic. I don't know why I was surprised.

The next day I met up with Conor, Ciara and Dad and had a great chippy lunch and a walk round St James Park. I´d forgotten just how brilliantly odd my family can be, especially Conor who named the squirrels after dead comedians and confectionery... for a reason I can´t remember). Later Ciara and I re-enacted our infamous nights out on Brick Lane which start with “well just a glass of wine to accompany the curry” and end up with us stalking boys and dancing raucously in Cafe 1001 or 93ft East. Nothing has changed.

On Sunday I met up with a great range of friends for a Sunday lunch in Angel. So lovely to see all these amazing people from different walks of my life around one table sharing stories. Plus I love Sunday lunch. So win win! Next met up with Mum and Con and walked along the South Bank (uber London) then went to see Stewart Lee's curated comedy show at the Royal Festival Hall. A mixed affair but awesome to see a fair portion of The Young Ones casts and John Cooper Clarke.

That was all there was time for before I was repacking my faithful bags for the next chapter of the Year of Jam: Barbados!

Lessons learnt:

Four days is not long enough to see London/ catch up with friends/ recover from jet-lag.

Mushy peas are a taste sensation and should be added to more meals!

Squirrels do not eat Twix bars Conor. Not even a half.