A bit of a Fright

Well, well. As it turns out, that awfully cheerful mood could not last long, could it? Life has its funny little tricks to throw at you whenever you are at your most distracted. Or should I say, blissfully happy? So it happens that at the end of that beautiful day, which was suppose to have finished after a nicely cozy dinner cooked by our flatmate A. to celebrate the Jewish Passover - don't ask, I still don't really understand what it means - I suddenly had an Ashma Attack. Yes, that calamitous A.A. I never gave much importance to it, since the last time it happened was well 4 years ago, but this time the boyfriend even got scared at the possibility of my stop breathing. I, then, had no choice but to end in the A&E section of the Big Royal Hospital in Whitechapel.

Rubbing shoulders with drunks, stabbed gangsters, and old people with low blood pressure, I arrived around 11pm, not expecting to stay long or even be attended to. HOWEVER, I was very mistaken, as occurred. Amazingly, I ended up staying nearly 4 long hours, having being seen by 4 nurses, done two nebulazations, a blood test and a X-Ray. Why, I have no idea. In the end, the coolest doctor in the world appeared to give his final verdict, and the way he spoke to me, I felt like a little girl in a pediatrician's practice. I almost asked for my lollipop.

I went home a bit confused, but the whole episode was not too upsetting. I guess I have to thank London's Public Health system for that.


Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself

This must be the most beautiful monday of 2007, so far. After many, many dreadful and gloomy beginnings of weeks, in which I would not see a reason to wake-up earlier than 11am, dragging myself upstairs to put the kettle on, and cursing my fate in this cheerless island, suddenly everything seemed to have taken a different colour. Today I woke up at 8:30, full of energy, and went out to buy supplies for a very non-brazilian breakfast (eggs, bacon and orange juice). The air was so light and the sun so radiant, that on the way I decided to buy flowers to brighten up the house. The only misfortune is that the flower stalls around Woolwich's high street are not award winning types, to say the least, and in the end I had to resort to M&S for a small bunch of orange roses, modest but cheerful. When I came back home, it was nearly 10am, and I made a pot of the most fragrant Brazilian coffee I found the other day in this little shop off Oxford Street (Pil√£o), woke the boyfriend, and he cooked us brunch (already to late for breakfast). He left half-hour later to his weekly golf class (on a monday - not many people can afford this), and I sat down on my little desk in front of the window, watching the sun lighten the old warehouse buidlings and the Thames, to write this short but jolly account of my morning.

This moment, right now, is my favourite. Life seems suddenly full of possibilities.

Obviously it's a combination of several elements that made this day, of all days, to become what it is. Spring has arrived and I've got an entire week off work for myself and for everything that really matters - the act of creation. Life is only worth living if it's shared with others through creativity.

It was today, walking the ugly streets of Woolwich, that I realised: it's been nearly ten years that I've got this thought under my skin. That I can only die in peace once I've created something that can be passed on to others, a glimpse of my own understanding of life. A piece of myself, transformed into something solid and visible.

And so it is that today, of all days, I've decided once again to record fragments of my existence in this modest online journal.