London pisses me off. It really does. The house prices, the Central line, restaurants that refuse to take bookings, and the fact there is now a Pret A Manger in Elephant and Castle. What.
Especially in the last week, when to put it lightly, things have been less than ideal in Britain, and made me want to learn to do DIY so I can move to France and buy a chateaux and never have to deal with Nigel Farage’s smug face ever again.
And at times like this, instead of going on Twitter and making myself rage at strangers, you need something to reassess and see your city in a different light.
Find something that makes you fall back in love with it again, and think ok hun I forgive you, let’s get a pizza and talk about memories and everything will be dandy.
So when I woke up on Thursday morning, with a savage hangover and four hours worth of sleep and I was due to be at the Shard for 8am to do a yoga class with Farfetch, as dreamy as it sounds, it felt less than ideal and not what I anticipated would shake me out of my Brexit rut.
I considered getting an Uber from home to drag my lazy arse, but I thought better of it (bank balance currently reads 50% dominos, 50% unnecessary chauffeured trips).
But as soon as I walked out on the 72nd floor of the Shard and looked at London Bridge and St Paul’s cathedral glowing in the (unholy early hour) first sunshine of the day, I felt like such a moron for even considering that this might not be worth it.
Or for ever thinking that London wasn’t the best place in the world. IT JUST MADE MY HEART SWELL. I wanted to swing off of Big Ben and watch Notting Hill and wear a Union Jack cape.
Then we did a lot of downward dog for an hour, and my head felt like I was being smashed with a hammer, but you win some you lose some.
*Thank you to Farfetch for making me fall back in love with my city, when it was most needed (although obvs opinion and hangover all my own)