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New York City Part II


WHERE does time go?! And how has it been three and a half weeks since we got back from New York already?! And why is the only thing of note that I've managed to achieve during that time getting to Season 3 of Gossip Girl?! It has been a very, very, very busy few weeks at work so to have spent pretty much every single evening perving over Rufus (largely unsung hero alert) and lonelyboy has not only been acceptable, but necessary. 

Part I: New York City, baby!


We walked so far in New York that we may as well have been auditioning as extras in Nelson Mandela's Long Walk To Freedom. Except we weren't walking to freedom, we were walking to cocktails. And lots of them. Yes, I am truly sorry for my tasteless Nelson Mandela joke, I also appreciate that he didn't literally walk as well, but do you know who did? WE did. For real, we walked over 45km the first day, then over 40km the next day, and we were there for six days. The only time we hopped on a subway was to get to the NFL, so for the first time in Katie Leask holiday history, I actually managed to lose 2 lbs instead of my usual gaining of 500. And if that wasn't enough of a reason to have fallen completely head over heels for NY, I give you this blog post:

i came, i saw, i left early


It's official. I've reached that stage in life where snuggling up at home dressed head to toe in pug paraphenalia (because apparently I'm harbouring quite the pug pyjama collection) has quite aggressively taken over heading out on the piss. Should I be worried that I've reached this stage at the ripe old age of 24? Hell no. To be honest, I'm more worried about this new found granny-status having a negative impact on my thighs cos the only shapes I'm throwing at 11pm on a Saturday night these days are triangular pizza slices into my mouth. Happiness quota exceeded.

so...tough mudder happened


I can't do a press up, I've never run more than 5k in one go, and I spent the night before in the pub...but despite pretty much every single odd - ya girl actually completed Tough Mudder this weekend. Can I get a hell yeah please because I am quite simply the weakest, puniest, most pathetically muscled human I've ever met. Period. Mikey actually laughed in my face and told me I was the 'antithesis of a tough mudder' when I signed up last year, which I hope gives you some indication as to the gravity of this situation. Furthermore, in an exciting turn of events, I spent the last 6 miles with a portion of my butt on show after my leggings took a bashing in Mud Mile. So yay for that. 

sugar-loading at patisserie valerie


There are few things in life I like more than being full of cake. Except, perhaps, being full of cake on a Tuesday afternoon when you're supposed to be at work but are eating all the calories in Brighton instead with your mum. Yeah, that probably tops it 🙏🍰☕️ What a totally IMMENSE way to spend an afternoon a few weeks ago, topped off by having the entire upstairs floor to ourselves meaning I could photograph the little cake babes from every-single-angle with no scowling onlookers. In. My. Element. So get that scrolling finger at the ready, bitch, cos I'm about to go full cakeboss on yo' ass.

life is better in pyjamas


Guess who has an entire week off work and is currently in a dressing gown and fluffy slippers, facemask on, hair in a towel, licking a bowl of melted nutella? OH YEAH, BABY, IT'S ME #inbetweenjobs #unemployedlife. So far today I have made myself breakfast, I've been to the gym, I've got Tay-Tay on full volume, I'm happily lapping up the remnants of mum's baking, and I'm genuinely feeling like if this is the only life I get to live - I'm fucking nailing it right now. 

the best and booziest of bank holidays


Is it even a bank holiday weekend if it's not full of friends, alcohol, frivolity and far far far far far too much food? And much to the surprise of a solid 100% of the UK population, we were even treated to some ACTUAL BLOODY SUNSHINE. Quelle bonheur, indeed. 

wingin’ it at biggin hill


The only thing better than a total nerd-out is an unexpected total nerd-out. Meaning that a very last-minute trip to Biggin Hill Airshow this weekend had me oohing, had me ahhing, had me wanting to ditch the plans I’d had for my life and fly for the RAF Red Arrows instead. If I told you I didn’t squeal and clap like that famous Will Smith GIF when the first plane went over, I would be lying. Yep, even I was surprised at quite how much I apparently like a good plane. Who knew!? The world works in mysterious ways. 

august feels


So it would appear The Great British Summer of 2017 is going for gold in the annual hide and seek championships because has anyone found her yet? And, like, why can't my hiding-the-fact-i-ate-three-scones-before-9am-today skills be quite so accomplished!? Life can be so unfair. But ARE WE DOWNHEARTED BY GLOOMY SKIES AND A LACK OF VITAMIN D?! Well, um, yes a little bit - but that's nothing a little (read: a fucking lot) of gin can't sort out. 

kindness is free, sprinkle that shit everywhere


I wouldn't blame you for thinking that little else went on in my head apart from Justin Bieber, Leo di Caprio, brunch, and cocktails on a continuous rolling loop. Which, to be completely honest, isn't too far from the truth BUT - on the odd occasion the loop skips and a spot frees up for me to think about something else...I've been revelling in the joys of being a more positive paula. Not all the time, mind, I'm not superwoman and after 1 hours sleep coupled with period pain all day on Thursday my new-found-posi-patience was really being put to the test, but in general, I've been drinking a lotta positivi-tea and am starting to feel the good karma returned. 

st tropez and lotsa vino


One thing that always becomes shockingly apparent on holiday is that my love of France knows no bounds. Like, for real there is no metaphorical or literal boundary to my enthusiasm, gusto and gratitude for everything French. I mean, it might be something to do with them producing more than 246 varieties of cheese, or their attitude to wine that can be summed up simply as ‘...want some?’, but nothing in the world makes me happier than a warm summer evening in the south of france (except, perhaps, picking up chocolate eggs in tesco for half the price following easter cos y'know - the only thing better than cadburys in egg-form is half price cardburys in egg-form. Everyone knows that).