Keeping busy
Jul. 23rd, 2003 02:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lprovenAnother full weekend, struggling to keep my mind off Things.
Friday, off to buy some running shoes. Arrived at Run&Become about 2min beofre their 6pm closing time, but they very kindly decided to help me anyway. Tried on about 4 different pairs of shoes. They look like trainers, they feel like trainers, they're from trainer manufacturers, but no, they're running shoes, apparently. These apparently cost 2-3 times as much as trainers.
One pair - the most expensive, natch - seem to give the best ankle support for my wonky over-pronating left foot.
This was strangely reminiscent of getting my first pair of coloured contact lenses some years ago. I chose a green pair.
"They're soft, you know," said John the Optician (of Eye Contact in Camden. They're good. If you need specs, go visit.)
"So?" I responded.
"Well, they won't correct your astigmatism."
"That's OK," I said, confidently, "I don't have astigmatism."
"Yes, you do," he said, and showed me the figures.
I could never really tell the difference so I guess it isn't that bad.
But the lady in shop, she tell me, I pronate. Well, I know that. No, she say, you pronate too much.
Oh.
Well, now I have an £85 pair oftrainersrunning shoes which will help me not to.
Then down to Victoria to meet Sean, who is bringing me my pre-ordered ticket to the Royal International Air Tattoo. Why? 'Cos the others are leaving for it at 7:15am on Saturday. There are very few things I wish to do at 7 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday (not that I'm doing them now anyway) and sitting in a car is not one of them.
Except he doesn't show. After 30min, I call him. He's been detained at work. We arrange to meet later and I go for a quick swim at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tamaranth's favourite pool, Oasis, at St Giles. A small central-London health centre with a heated outdoor pool as well as an indoor one. It's fun, but I am certain that it's also a major gay pick-up point. There were a lot of very buffed pretty young boys in there, talking more than swimming, and I've never seen so many trimmed or shaved male pubes outside, ah, specialist film, in my life.
Then off to the Tube to meet Sean where I've already arranged to meetdrpete, up at Highbury and Islington, handy for the Fantasy Centre party.
I check my phone on the way. Sean's left me a message. He just received a call from someone at Victoria Station Lost Property, saying a Psion 5mx had been handed in. He was the person whose contact details were showing on its screen. It took him some time to realise that I use a 5mx and I'd just called him.
I dashed down to Victoria. Lost Property was shut. It's the same office as Left Luggage, so they were happy to tell me that yes, they had it, but they wouldn't give it to me.
No, they're not open weekends.
Yes, I can complete a form to claim it.
All weekend with no brain! Aiiieeee! How will I survive?
Back on the Tube. Dash to Highbury. Pete is in the pub already. It takes some time to join him; the Wetherspoons has bouncers on the door and they wish to search my bag. Said bag is a large knapsack, full of soggy swimming gear and shiny new trainers. I demonstrate this, and am allowed into the hallowed sanctum sanctorum of the White Swan.
Call Sean. Sean is in a different pub. Summon Sean. Go for money for ticket for Sean. Meet Sean being searched too. Introduce Sean and Pete. They get on. I relax. We drink.
Suddenly, it's 10pm!
(This happens to me. A lot.)
I reassure Pete that the FC party will still be going on and we leave. Sean elects to depart, as he has an early start. Muhahahar.
We go to the Fantasy Centre. (Earlier - P: "You'll have to give me directions, I don't know where it is!" L: "You know House of Harlot?" P: "Yes, of course!" L: "Opposite." P: "Oh.")
They're closing up. Apart from a couple of bedraggled mates of Erik and Co.,nolley is the only one left, and they're shutting up shop and leaving. We scuttle next door, buy beer and rejoin them anyway, and sit and talk for an hour or so.
Then Pete drags me home with him and we discuss Stuff over whisky. He once again tells me that I must attendbeermat and mindygoth's party on Saturday, even though K&M have specified that they really want to go to this one, and I really don't want to see them together.
Friday, off to buy some running shoes. Arrived at Run&Become about 2min beofre their 6pm closing time, but they very kindly decided to help me anyway. Tried on about 4 different pairs of shoes. They look like trainers, they feel like trainers, they're from trainer manufacturers, but no, they're running shoes, apparently. These apparently cost 2-3 times as much as trainers.
One pair - the most expensive, natch - seem to give the best ankle support for my wonky over-pronating left foot.
This was strangely reminiscent of getting my first pair of coloured contact lenses some years ago. I chose a green pair.
"They're soft, you know," said John the Optician (of Eye Contact in Camden. They're good. If you need specs, go visit.)
"So?" I responded.
"Well, they won't correct your astigmatism."
"That's OK," I said, confidently, "I don't have astigmatism."
"Yes, you do," he said, and showed me the figures.
I could never really tell the difference so I guess it isn't that bad.
But the lady in shop, she tell me, I pronate. Well, I know that. No, she say, you pronate too much.
Oh.
Well, now I have an £85 pair of
Then down to Victoria to meet Sean, who is bringing me my pre-ordered ticket to the Royal International Air Tattoo. Why? 'Cos the others are leaving for it at 7:15am on Saturday. There are very few things I wish to do at 7 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday (not that I'm doing them now anyway) and sitting in a car is not one of them.
Except he doesn't show. After 30min, I call him. He's been detained at work. We arrange to meet later and I go for a quick swim at
tamaranth's favourite pool, Oasis, at St Giles. A small central-London health centre with a heated outdoor pool as well as an indoor one. It's fun, but I am certain that it's also a major gay pick-up point. There were a lot of very buffed pretty young boys in there, talking more than swimming, and I've never seen so many trimmed or shaved male pubes outside, ah, specialist film, in my life.Then off to the Tube to meet Sean where I've already arranged to meet
drpete, up at Highbury and Islington, handy for the Fantasy Centre party.I check my phone on the way. Sean's left me a message. He just received a call from someone at Victoria Station Lost Property, saying a Psion 5mx had been handed in. He was the person whose contact details were showing on its screen. It took him some time to realise that I use a 5mx and I'd just called him.
I dashed down to Victoria. Lost Property was shut. It's the same office as Left Luggage, so they were happy to tell me that yes, they had it, but they wouldn't give it to me.
No, they're not open weekends.
Yes, I can complete a form to claim it.
All weekend with no brain! Aiiieeee! How will I survive?
Back on the Tube. Dash to Highbury. Pete is in the pub already. It takes some time to join him; the Wetherspoons has bouncers on the door and they wish to search my bag. Said bag is a large knapsack, full of soggy swimming gear and shiny new trainers. I demonstrate this, and am allowed into the hallowed sanctum sanctorum of the White Swan.
Call Sean. Sean is in a different pub. Summon Sean. Go for money for ticket for Sean. Meet Sean being searched too. Introduce Sean and Pete. They get on. I relax. We drink.
Suddenly, it's 10pm!
(This happens to me. A lot.)
I reassure Pete that the FC party will still be going on and we leave. Sean elects to depart, as he has an early start. Muhahahar.
We go to the Fantasy Centre. (Earlier - P: "You'll have to give me directions, I don't know where it is!" L: "You know House of Harlot?" P: "Yes, of course!" L: "Opposite." P: "Oh.")
They're closing up. Apart from a couple of bedraggled mates of Erik and Co.,
nolley is the only one left, and they're shutting up shop and leaving. We scuttle next door, buy beer and rejoin them anyway, and sit and talk for an hour or so.Then Pete drags me home with him and we discuss Stuff over whisky. He once again tells me that I must attend
beermat and mindygoth's party on Saturday, even though K&M have specified that they really want to go to this one, and I really don't want to see them together.
