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These two weeks I am practically having the whole world over at once. Ditta and Kristinur just left after spending six days here, and my parents, aunty and grandma will be arriving in London tomorrow afternoon. On Thursday Henrik (Yes, this wonderfully patient guy is still with me despite not having seen me 7 weeks) will be flying over from Sweden to stay here for the weekend. I never intended for all these visits to supersede eachother so closely, and I will admit that I am slightly freaking out as I am wondering how I am supposed to entertain and accommodate all these lovely people into my increasingly busy schedule, while keeping up with my reading, essay writing and not to mention Chinese (Which is almost taking up as much time as my art assignments!). Not saying I do not appreciate these visits tremendously though; words cannot describe how much it meant to me having Ditta and Kristinur over so I could share with them all of my wonderful London experiences!

Since both Ditta and Kristinur have been to London before and seen all the important attractions, I wanted to take them out to experience the real London. Like the buzzling nightlife on a Friday night at Leicester Square and Piccadilly. I took them to Penthouse, which is a pretty exclusive nightclub occupying the fancy address of Nr. 1 Leicester Square. They hold London’s only Friday student night, and every week they sell 300 £7 tickets out to students, while the rest of the tickets are for members only. I got hold of tickets for the whole group, and we all dressed up extra nicely for the occasion, as Penthouse is one of the more pretentious clubs where (according to them) celebs like to hang out. The tickets promised “An exclusive party palace where films stars, music icons and models rub shoulders with cool students and stylish graduates. Expect a host of magazines, press and paparazzi outside and don’t be surprised to bump into a star on the way to the bar!”. There was no red carpet, nor were there any paparazzi. Instead we were shoved through a dodgy backdoor and up seven flights of stairs. There were no celebs at the bar that I could rub shoulders with – and there were defintiely no stylish graduates. (Only sleazy boys who would grab you in the attempt to dry hump you on the dancefloor. This guy took my hand and started stroking it while giving me the creepiest grin ever. I shouted “What the F***” at him, and he still continued grinning). However – the 180 degree panoramic view of London from the top floor that they promised us was NO lie, and I felt just like Carrie in “Sex and the City” as I was soaking up the classy, material urban life. I know, I am so shallow.

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Sunday evening I took my friends down to the embankment to admire the London Eye and Houses of Parliament by night. We ended up photo whoring instead. Kudos to our lovely photographer Kristinur:

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I have had too much fun. I ecpecially enjoyed skipping along Tottenham Court Road arm in arm with my friends. And since I’ve been so good at working on my essay draft today, I am going to treat myself to an episode of “Sex and the City” before going to bed. No actually, I am going to treat myself to a bit of MSN time with my Swedish viking.

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