Nowadays, I spend most of my time with some sort of milk based product in my hair. If Starbucks sell it – chances are; it’s in my hair. Or, you know, my eyebrows. Or, indeed, all over my face. Admittedly this is entirely my fault – none of my colleagues seem to have to ask the question ‘do I have whipped cream on my face?’ quite so often, but at least I only burnt myself three times today. #winning.
I actually had the best time handing out frappuccino samples. I spent about an hour and a half guilt tripping my manager for making me go outside ‘all by myself’ to hand out frappuccinos ‘in the freezing cold’ (okay, that was a bit of a stretch in sweatbox-city, aka London, but I was really not happy about having to take some tiny cups out into the streets of London and try and push iced drinks on hot commuters.) Turns out iced drinks are exactly what hot commuters want, and I was basically mobbed on my way out of the door. All the tiny cups went within twenty seconds and I felt like a minor celebrity.
As well as becoming some kind of dairy-based idol, I’m working on displaying some quotes in my room and have been having fun browsing the internet for ideas.
I love it.
I hope it’s sunny and lovely where you are! Big Love, PV x
P.s. The becoming-an-adult shebang is hitting me pretty hard right now. Someone rang our doorbell at 7pm and when I answered the door to a man who seemed to be collecting for charity, he asked me if my parents were home.
I didn’t want to make a charitable donation at that time so I gave him my biggest puppy dog eyes and told him that my parents were out and I didn’t know when they would be getting back.
But still. I sort of felt like saying “I’m nineteen and this is my house” but admittedly I had trundled downstairs in my Lion King pajamas so it was an easy mistake to make. Oh, life.