The Phantom and The Sushi

You know that moment when you realise the massive backlog of things you have to do and you have no idea how you're going to get it all done on time? Well I'm having one of those moments right now realising how much backlog there is on this little old blog. It's so weird to think that I haven't posted about two of the most amazing experiences of the summer! Basically my best friend Flaky came to spend two weeks of her summer with me in London, sadly it wasn't the best timing because she came in August and I was in the full throes of my dissertation and not in the mood to go out much. Saying all that though there was NO WAY I was missing out on our two favourite and now compulsory things to do together in any city! Theatre and sushi! Last year when we were in New York together we saw Chicago on Broadway and went to Ruby Foo's for sushi (I think that's what it was called!) which were both amazing and so this year we knew it had to be something even better!

Her Majesty's Theatre! Housing the famous musical The Phantom of The Opera. Neither of us knew much about the plot besides the obvious and this ended up being perfect because we were thrilled, surprised and shocked all in equal measure throughout the show! I loved the soundtrack so much that it became my background music for the next 3 weeks after the show, I'm sure I can now sing the entire musical from start to finish albeit mostly off key! The voices of the actors were beyond amazing, even more so than I expected and everyone knows the difference between an amazing show and an average show is the delivery of the songs.

These two photos were taken outside the theatre. The picture on the right really sums up a lot of the story. Young damsel is bewitched by sexy but terrifying man in a mask.

After the exhilarating show which we both agreed was miles better than Chicago (London- 1, New York- nil). For sushi we had to decide between Zuma and Sushi Samba but in the spirit of tryong something new, we head to Liverpool Street to try out the much praised Sushi Samba on the 38th floor of the Heron Tower. I will admit I've never been in a place so high up in all my time at London (the eye doesn't count) and so seeing the skyline stretching for miles and miles beneath us from the glass elevator as we went up was pretty breathtaking.

My date was on her phone pretending to be uninterested by the amazing views and amazing service we were receiving (I know she was bursting inside with joy really!)

I honestly think it is safe to say that the sushi was as breathtaking or even more so than the views! 

When we were served up with this bad boy of a platter, Flaky promptly put her phone down and we practically inhaled the whole lot! If only I could remember what it was called. It's no exaggeration when I say that every single one of those bad boys exploded with flavour as soon as I sunk my teeth into them. Typing this right now on an empty stomach is making me really crave some awesome sushi, I'm sure there's somewhere in Manchester that can satisfy my craving! The drinks were a bit more on the average side and at about £10 each we were a bit pissed that we hadn't just gone with soft drinks and put more money towards sushi! But never mind, there shall certainly be a next time! 

They are still pretty though! Just not completely worth it in my opinion.

On our way out we stopped by the bar just to check it out and were greeted by the most amazing tree inside! Looking at this picture reminds me so much of autumn, there's just something about orange trees that makes my heart sing! Haha. I even saw a real life one in York the other time, but more on that later.

In the theatre and sushi battle, I think it's safe to say London took this round, sorry NYC! Better luck next time. Please please someone, recommend me a yummy sushi place to try out in Manchester, I'd be eternally grateful!

Reni x

P.S. You know that dissertation I kept sacrificing everything for? Well the jury's back in and it was all worth it! I'm graduating with a Distinction baybay!

Stolen Suitcase!!

My suitcase got stolen. Yes, you read that right my suitcase got stolen. There is no other explanation for its unexplained disappearance. One faithful evening I was commuting from London to Manchester, on arrival at Manchester I realised that my baggage was gone. If you’ve ever watched the movie Flight Plan then you know exactly how I felt, I was so sure that I had embarked on this journey with a suitcase and there I was running helter skelter from carriage to carriage trying to locate this bag. After all of this I had to report the missing bag to a number of people, some woman asked me to estimate how much everything in the bag was worth, like that would help them bring it in any faster! Anyways, I eventually got my bag back, turns out some woman had taken it by mistake and left hers on the train. After informing various friends that my bag had been recovered fully intact and thanking God, I was warned several times to always put my luggage where I can see it or to at least check it from time to time to make sure it is still there.

I write this post as I’m sitting on the train on the return leg of my journey. Again, my suitcase is in an end carriage that I can’t see from my seat. I wonder if it would still be there when I arrive in London. LOL.

Forever Stubborn :)

My Adventures in London Town

So I randomly have those days where I literally want to blog till my mind is emptied. Sometimes I look at blogging as a way of out pouring everything from my otherwise completely saturated mind on to paper or rather screen, whatever you want to call it and I just yap yap yap away until im satisfied! I guess what im trying to say is get ready to read some of the things that go on in the inner crevices of my mind. Whoopty Doo!

So the other day, I was on my way to Upton Park to go and get my hair done at some Jamaican woman's’ shop. Had to get up super early, which is always a struggle and a half and enter the stupid rush hour that the City of London is so infamous for. It was during this trip that I had a revelation! Well I suppose it’s not really a revelation if I’ve pretty much always known but yea. I can NOT live and work in London! It is just ridiculous!

The amount of people that pack themselves on to the London Underground every single morning during rush hour is ridiculous! From the lowly interns, to the ones that look like they own their own business in London Bridge, EVERYONE becomes united in their daily commute. And did I mention the heat?? It is beyond atrocious! How am I supposed to get to work feeling fresh and alert, if just 10 minutes before, I was packed tighter than sardines in a little carriage full of other hot sweaty people? It’s almost repulsive even! I understand all the perks of the underground trust me, it’s faster, it’s convenient, you don’t need to sit in hours of traffic etc. But I had to ask myself, is it EVER that deep?

Sadly, the answer is no! Not for me anyways, I’m not sure I can give up the life I have envisioned for myself in naij, rolling around in a car in and things. Even in traffic sef I don’t mind, as long as there’s A.C. I’d buy plantain chips from those boys and listen to Weezy baby (Wizkid btw, not Wayne).  Meanwhile before someone pounces, yes I know that this sounds spoilt and brattish and assuming I lived in London, perhaps I too will join those commuters (as if!) but guess what? It’s my opinion, not yours J

Anyways, the salon! It is the funniest place I’ve been too in a long while! After arriving there at 9.10 am, the rollers of the shop were still down, yet there was already a woman waiting, she hustled to secure her spot as number 1, arriving at a spectacular 8.30 a.m. luckily for me, I’m second. Anyways people keep pouring in till the doors are opened at about 9.45. At 10.30, customer number 4 arrives. She’s some crazy woman with her jacked up weave. Her conversation is as follows

Enters Crazy Lady

Crazy Lady: Please oh! I have a flight to catch by 3 and I have soo mant things to do today, I really need to do my hair quickly so I can leave here on time

                                  ***all customers and hairdressers stop and stare***

1^st Hairdresser: Okay aunty, please sit down, you will be after these people (points to all those waiting)

Crazy Lady: But where is Hawa? She knows me, I am her customer.

Let it be known now that Hawa is one of those boisterous Jamaican women that you can’t rush, or even attempt to fight with.

Customer 1: Yes, I am her customer 2 and I have been here since 8.30 and there are still people before you, if you wanted to be first you would have been here since!

Crazy Lady: Hmn, all I know is I must leave here by 1

Laughter ensues all around, as a black female you should know that going to the salon is a whole day fiasco! Minimum of 4 hours, so be prepared! This woman had very little chance of leaving before 4 p.m.

2^nd Hairdresser: Ahh, Aunty that one is not possible oh. But let us try sha.

30 minutes later, they have just started doing my cornrows, bearing in mind that I am number 2. Meanwhile in these 30 minutes she complained incessantly to customers 1 and 3, customer 3 is busy consoling her while explaining that she cannot come and ‘chance’ anyone, while customer 1 is slowly getting the truth about this flight at 3 p.m. surely the woman should be headed to the airport by now not so? Meanwhile, I was busy playing Temple Run and slightly eavesdropping to pass away the time.

Crazy Lady: Please I hate sitting here doing nothing, I’m going to go and come back. You people should keep my place oh!

(gossiping and laughter at her foolish ways after she had left)

11.30 a.m. Hawa the main hairdresser finally arrives, she is told of the tale and says in her Jamo accent “Don maind dat crazy gyal, she been calling ma phone al marning. I get other tins to do ya know.”

Unfortunately I have no idea whether she ever came back or not as I carried on with my life and was out of the salon at 2 p.m. I really wonder if she ever fixed her hair AND made that flight. Oh well

Adios!