Superbowl.

While we were filling Gabby's new guide book with bookmarks this week in readiness for her sister's visit, we decided to get our Fred Flintstone/Barney Rubble on at the Bloomsbury Bowling Lanes. Located in the basement of the Tavistock Hotel in Russell Square it was filled with all sorts of things I can get behind: halogen lighting, sexy bowling shoes, rockabilly tunes and a Lost in Translation style karaoke room. It is unique within London for its "sleek vintage above lane ball returns", apparently.


We did some hardcore bowling and I came in third, which I'm pretty proud about. I don't usually go in for ball-and-pin related activities - plus, the sides were down. We had pizza in the diner, then we made our way onto the dancefloor to shimmy and to shake and to do all the other dances that those crazy 50s cats did do. (Tell me! Everyone is picking up on that feline beat / 'Cause everything else is obsolete).


I got up early this morning to do some chores (strenuous tasks like buying a dress and picking up photographs) and was just coming to the conclusion that Sunday mornings are the perfect time to go shopping, when I rounded the corner onto Shaftsbury Avenue and realised that everybody in London had turned out for the Chinese New Year celebrations instead (新年快乐). I struggled my way through Chinatown and down onto Trafalgar Square, avoiding pushchairs and fire-crackers and dancing dragons as I went, then struggled my way back up again to meet up with the Flexers at St Martin in the Fields. We tried our best to see the stage and watched some Peking Opera on the big screens, then gave up and went in search of food (pork buns are amazing ♥); 伟大的日子.


Gabby just got back from Trafalgar Square and brought me a fortune cookie, which read, "Something on TV will inspire you to do great things, very soon". I sincerely hope the fortune cookie fairy hasn't been keeping track of my television viewing recently (Teen Mom, Tool Academy, etc.). It doesn't really bode well for inspiration.