C'mere, there's more
Aug. 5th, 2003 02:43 amA week followed. I wrote a column. It's going to be in a new magazine called Custom PC, it appears at the end of this month, it will be indescribably wonderful (except my bit, obviously, which will be about Linux and immensely tedious - unless you like that sort of thing) and you must all subscribe to it at once.
Monday, went drinking. Somewhere. I forget.
Tuesday, went drinking with
mr_tom and others in Islington. Lots of new people. Some utterly unexpected others, such as
mstevens who I know from an entirely different context.
Wednesday, went drinking with
kjersti, oddly enough, and later,
drpete and
mmcpoland and
childeric, then all of us except The Ex went to see a little ol' band from Texas who were <Rik from the Young Ones>completely brilliant</Rik>. However, Dr Simon has written of them already, so I will not.
Thursday, wentdrinkingfomenting evil plans to take over the world with certain Evil Genii. In a pub. With
tamaranth and others. I may soon be a company director. Erk.
Then met up with
lostcarpark and took him and his young lady Angie home with me. Stop tittering at the back. They were in town for Sproutlore's event. I was just putting them up. No! In a bed! In my SPARE bed!
Friday. Went drinking with
drpete and
mmcpoland and Freddie WINOLJ, then to see NFD, a new spin-off band from the Fields of the Nephilim. The last time I saw the Neph, some people on my friendslist probably hadn't been born yet. Aieeee! Gig was stonking and goth totty abundant. Clearly I have not kicked the habit yet.
This led to me going to Full Tilt at the Electric Ballroom with the aforementioned Mr & Not Mrs Shields and others. And more drinking.
Saturday dawned bright, early and painfully and I bid a temporary farewell to my guests as they headed off to Chiswick a mere hour late. Pah! Amateurs! I arrived a painfully hip five hours late to witness the great Robert Rankin manfully signing heaps of his new book, The Witches of Chiswick, which has an exceptionally fine dedication page which I urge you all to read.
It is interesting to note that all but one of the couples listed therein have since split up. :¬(
Then off to the pub, where Mr Rankin belted out fine versions of Jonny B Goode and other classics and Brighton band Stub'n did a cracking set - before we got shut down by the police. Shame there was No Beer. I was forced to drink lager. I mean, can you imagine? Not even cider for an S&B! Scandalous!
Other featured stars included
jamesb and many of the same crowd as at the Beeblebears. It's a small world. A rarer pleasure was
camies and escort - and a chance to natter to some of the Irish contingent, most of whom regrettably ANOLJ. I think I might like to live in Dublin some day.
I made my apologies and left at about 10 to travel to Chris and Liz's party somewhere near darkest Amersham. This is, nominally, on the Tube. I figured, hey, I'm in West London already, how hard can it be?
I walked to Turnham Green. Sadly, the Piccadilly Line doesn't stop there 'til 10:30pm, so I waited for an eastbound train.
For quite some time.
I chewed some gum to pass the time. Perhaps I was slightly tense, as on about the 3rd chomp, I shattered my rearmost left upper molar. I spat out a piece of gum made hedgehoglike from shards of tooth.
It doesn't hurt, but I'm going to have to get it fixed. Recommendations of good dentists, please!
Eventually, I got a District Line train to Hammersmith and got onto the Piccaddilly there, going back the way I'd come. Which got to Turnham Green at 10:30 and promptly stopped anyway. Thence to Rayner's Lane, where I confidently planned to get a Metropolitan Line to Amersham.
Except Rayner's Lane is on the wrong bloody branch of the Met.
So I got on the Met going the wrong way, went back in to Harrow on the Hill, gave a tourist completely the wrong directions as to where to catch her train - always a pleasure - and got a mainline train to Amersham. Hopped in a waiting cab and a mere two hours and £18.50 later I arrived triumphantly at an absolutely agonizingly trendy quarter to midnight.
I then partook of Chris' excellent ale. All of it that was left. And much of a crate of Speckled Hen. It was going fine until about 4:30am when it all went a bit maudlin. I blame the beer. My thanks to
sbisson,
marypcb,
spride and
tilted_john for listening, and, indeed, to
ramtops,
perlmonger,
etriganuk, others WANOLJ for earlier nattering - and finally a chance to meet
fluke_holden. Sadly, I was a bit incoherent by this point. Next time, Luke.
I fell onto Chris' lounge floor and slept like a log - which is to say, stiffly and feeling wooden the next day.
As apparently the only veggie to appear, it fell upon me to try to eat the vast pan of veggie thai curry Chris had prepared. I strove heroically but it defeated me. Other activities for Sunday included slowly turning bright pink in the sun, marvelling at the thermometer, talking bollocks and splashing around in Chris' pool. I was then kindly escorted home by IT's Favourite Couple. I actually managed to do a little work at this point but then good sense prevailed and I went to the pub to do a bit more drinking. I did run all the way to the tram stop in a token effort towards healthy exercise, though.
Monday, went drinking. Somewhere. I forget.
Tuesday, went drinking with
Wednesday, went drinking with
Thursday, went
Then met up with
Friday. Went drinking with
This led to me going to Full Tilt at the Electric Ballroom with the aforementioned Mr & Not Mrs Shields and others. And more drinking.
Saturday dawned bright, early and painfully and I bid a temporary farewell to my guests as they headed off to Chiswick a mere hour late. Pah! Amateurs! I arrived a painfully hip five hours late to witness the great Robert Rankin manfully signing heaps of his new book, The Witches of Chiswick, which has an exceptionally fine dedication page which I urge you all to read.
It is interesting to note that all but one of the couples listed therein have since split up. :¬(
Then off to the pub, where Mr Rankin belted out fine versions of Jonny B Goode and other classics and Brighton band Stub'n did a cracking set - before we got shut down by the police. Shame there was No Beer. I was forced to drink lager. I mean, can you imagine? Not even cider for an S&B! Scandalous!
Other featured stars included
I made my apologies and left at about 10 to travel to Chris and Liz's party somewhere near darkest Amersham. This is, nominally, on the Tube. I figured, hey, I'm in West London already, how hard can it be?
I walked to Turnham Green. Sadly, the Piccadilly Line doesn't stop there 'til 10:30pm, so I waited for an eastbound train.
For quite some time.
I chewed some gum to pass the time. Perhaps I was slightly tense, as on about the 3rd chomp, I shattered my rearmost left upper molar. I spat out a piece of gum made hedgehoglike from shards of tooth.
It doesn't hurt, but I'm going to have to get it fixed. Recommendations of good dentists, please!
Eventually, I got a District Line train to Hammersmith and got onto the Piccaddilly there, going back the way I'd come. Which got to Turnham Green at 10:30 and promptly stopped anyway. Thence to Rayner's Lane, where I confidently planned to get a Metropolitan Line to Amersham.
Except Rayner's Lane is on the wrong bloody branch of the Met.
So I got on the Met going the wrong way, went back in to Harrow on the Hill, gave a tourist completely the wrong directions as to where to catch her train - always a pleasure - and got a mainline train to Amersham. Hopped in a waiting cab and a mere two hours and £18.50 later I arrived triumphantly at an absolutely agonizingly trendy quarter to midnight.
I then partook of Chris' excellent ale. All of it that was left. And much of a crate of Speckled Hen. It was going fine until about 4:30am when it all went a bit maudlin. I blame the beer. My thanks to
I fell onto Chris' lounge floor and slept like a log - which is to say, stiffly and feeling wooden the next day.
As apparently the only veggie to appear, it fell upon me to try to eat the vast pan of veggie thai curry Chris had prepared. I strove heroically but it defeated me. Other activities for Sunday included slowly turning bright pink in the sun, marvelling at the thermometer, talking bollocks and splashing around in Chris' pool. I was then kindly escorted home by IT's Favourite Couple. I actually managed to do a little work at this point but then good sense prevailed and I went to the pub to do a bit more drinking. I did run all the way to the tram stop in a token effort towards healthy exercise, though.