Never too old for anything

It’s bank holiday in England today. And Notting hill carnival. We are not there. We are not even drinking. Just chilling at home watching series and walking Woolly. Living the high life.

Sometimes (as in not very often) it hits me that I’m 36. A tad too old (well, depends on who you ask) to live the party life I live. Or, let’s rephrase that. I don’t think you get ‘too old’ for anything. I think you should do what makes you happy and just enjoy life. My problem is that young at heart doesn’t always mean young in body and my body gets hangover like a bitch.

So, this weekend of chill out has been seriously good for my old bones. Feel refreshed.

We did go for a havelock dinner on Saturday. Had one drink. And delicious food. Perfect night according to my hangover. And my liver. They are in cahoots.

Then it mostly rained. Woolly turned into a gremlin and refused to go out.

Looking snazzy in his somewhat too big coat.

Today our life looks like this. Me freezing under a blanket and George shwetting in his boxers.

Standard in casa Munstev

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