be at work

{Plan Be} The honey-trip part 3. Leg 2.

Ah, good morning to you.
As I sit here in pyjamas, with tea and Mr Ds big tartan dressing gown, I’m going to tell you a tale.  A tale of a birthday, some plans, a dream and my morning….

Last month saw another merry Be birthday.  T’was mine and t’was lovely.  Quiet and comfy and belly-foo and beery.  I ended up twenty-six.
For this merry day, we were to book Leg 2 of our Honey-trip … Prague to….. ????
But hangovers and work and {some lazyness} took over and never did we book that leg.  Dumdumduuuuum.
{We did meet our Humanist though, which was a big wedding box crossed and so we shant complain.. for she is most lovely.  blogtale to follow}

This brings my tale to last night.  My Friday night off with no cruddy feelings of work the next day… Nest to my self, I passed out on the sofa for too long a time and then watched Roman Holiday late into the night, with a merry, chocolate-stuffed face.  La Swoon.  Or Swoonio, should I say.

Roman Holiday
That film.. ooft, the love.  And the most perfect day spent jesting around a city, falling in love. {I’m a massive romantic swooner.  Geek, some say.  I can only apologise.  I know I can ramble…}
I want to wander round new cities, eating ice cream and sitting in street cafes, dondering through markets, wearing neck ties and hats, smoking cigarettes and drinking champagne {beer would do nicely}, riding a bicycle {felt right over bike} and getting lost.  With a tall handsome man {Mr D will do nicely}.
So, I’m not a bored princess.  But I fancy buggering off and getting my noggin cut and wearing a flouncy skirt and undo-ing my top button and getting lost in a city with Mr Bradley {eh, or Dawson}. It’s on my favourite list, that film.

So last night I dream that I’m going for one of those lovely days, but in Paris not Rome..
And I miss the damn train. Ruddy nightmare.
Mr D gets home from work sometime during this dream and hears the whole stressful tale, told by a half-sleeping-out-of-breath-from-just-missing-a-train me…
What does he think?
He thinks its a dream.  I’m not buying it… No sir.  I’m missing no train.
So this morn, I booked a plane….  A plane to Paris.

Let's Do It {nest pretty things}Honey-trip Leg 1… Here to Prague
Honey-trip Leg 2… Prague to Paris.
Le Hurrah, oui oui.
Oui oui, indeed.  For I will love Paris.  Of that I’m so sure.  I’ll wear my hat and smoke my cigarettes and sit outside in street cafes, I’ll eat cheese and ride my bike and look cool as cats in my necktie, wandering the city with my handsome husband-man.
Here’s to getting married.

It’s rather fun.  Mr D……….  I’m glad you asked.

Love Claire x

{picture from here}


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