Nothing here for me and you...sitting here with nothing to do
I'd love one of these beautiful items for Xmas. I've always wanted a record player that's disguised as a harpischord.
What goes on? Well, quite a lot and not very much all at the same time. I had a nice night down the boozer with
Jezzabo last week, which was a giggle, at which I heard his horror stories of being locked in a hotel in Moscow, which is perhaps what you can expect for flying to Tokyo with Aeroflot. [Not to be making too light of this, of course, it sounded truly awful.] Other topics of conversation included
Curb (which has been so fierce in content lately that I can barely bring myself to watch it) and Madonna's recent forays into the adoption of developing-world children.
In domestic news, it looks like the re-fitting of our bathroom may commence this week. I'm preparing myself for an unpleasant few days of being unable to wash. The hair-washing thing isn't a problem - you know how slovenly I am when it comes to that. So we spent Saturday evening stripping wall and ceiling paper off, and yesterday I sustained some painful neck injuries following spending several hours sugar-soaping the whole lot down. Can't wait to see the back of the old beige bathroom suite/the pink ceiling/ the bright blue walls/the purple floor tiles. Stripped down, our bathroom is a nightmarish flashback to the three-day week, refuse piling up in the street and Leif Garrett.
Niece Number 1 and her husband came to stay on Saturday night. It was good to see them, and we were also just as pleased that they had remembered
JJ's obsession with Victoria sponge cake. Needless to say, we made short work of it.
*ATP in a week and half! ATP in a week and a half! Lalalalalala.* You'll get no sense out of me until that's over.
Velocity girl
Soundtrack:
CD86Ah, it's all anoraks and bowl-cuts around these parts at the moment. I'm loving this new C86 compilation, courtesy of
Busgrrrl - top one, nice one, thanks! Lots of faintly out-of-tune singing and jangly Byrdsian guitars. Marvellous.
So what gives? Well, I went to see a concert of
Bach meets Moondog last week, which was very cultured of me, I'm sure you'll agree. The Bach bit left me a bit cold (even though it was interpreted in a modern style), although I must say the guy they had on tabla was fantastically talented. The Moondog half of the concert was great and left me feeling very upbeat. On a slightly different note, I thought that the bar of the Queen Elizabeth Hall was lovely: a great venue for chatting and drinking. There was even a Stitch 'n' Bitch group installed there, which is a good sign, of course.
On Saturday night
JJ and I went out to a club for the first time in yonks. The last time we graced
100% Dynamite was on 31st December 1999 - where I was out of my mind on painkillers and booze because I'd put my back out. The following day I was in a stupid amount of pain, so I welcomed the new millenium in with a milky drink and an early night.
Anyway, it was a good night - the music was great and better still, was provided by a pal of ours, the lovely
Ms. Abby. We went to the club for
Ms. Claire's birthday, but unfortunately we barely saw her. She was her usual effervescent self: she and her mates were mostly done up in wigs (which made it very difficult to spot her at first in the smoky hole that is the Electrowerz).
The venue is also host to the legendary
Slimelight. Both sets of punters share the same cloakroom and it was quite an eye-opener...everyone in their fetish gear, big platforms and with more make-up on then I'd wear in a year...the music coming through the doorway was amazingly reminiscent of the house clubs that
JJ loves to frequent (Belgian techno, at a guess - all anthemic).
Following that, a
lazy Sunday afternoon-ah where we did very little. I'm crap at relaxing, but am enjoying learning how to do it. Staying in bed until noon is a good start to this process.
An emergency stop...
Sountrack:
Stop me if you've heard this one before by
The SmithsI've been having some peculiar dreams lately. I've been dreaming about the house I grew up in a lot, which is spooky for me. One of my old cats popped up in a dream recently (the all-snoring, all-yowling
Pepsi, one of the most vicious felines I've ever owned). Last night I dreamt I was being smothered with a scarf I was knitting. Jesus. Not quite sure what all that's all about. Well, I'm guessing it's probably caught up with my recent feelings of creeping dread.
Although, I am beginning to feel this lifting a bit - the evenings out last week were like wobbling along on a bike with stabilisers on.
Bit of Smiths always sorts things out though eh.
Just what you need when you're down in the dumps
Soundtrack: who else but
The CrampsAnother weekend where very little was achieved, but I managed to get out and about on a couple of occasions last week to make up for that.
On Tuesday evening I spent a very pleasant evening with
Dr and Dr Gane, who are currently domiciled in
Europe's strangest country. I've known Dr Gane (male) since we were both 11, so to say we know each others' foibles is a bit of an understatement.
Dr Gane (female) is currently pregnant and expecting their first child in January. She's in great shape, but was telling me about the none-too-subtle discrimination she is currently receiving from her employers. Swiss women don't tend to return to work following childbirth, so she is suffering from an assumption by the company she works for that she will be following this tradition. She is suddenly no longer eligible for the management courses that she was signed up to do; salary discussions that were had are being remembered differently by several parties.
Before you say 'tribunal', remember that Switzerland is not part of the EU, so lots of those lovely employment laws we take for granted don't apply there. Add not being a Swiss national to that, and Dr Gane's chances of being treated fairly are slim to nil.
At any rate, I had a rare old time with the Drs and when we glanced at our watches, an entire evening had passed in laughter and chitchat (for instance: why Luxembourg is an excellent place to buy petrol; why a trip to an erotic art exhibition isn't the best venue for a work Xmas party).
Thursday evening I met
JJ in the West End and we took in the vanishing Viktor and Rolf range in
H&M (can I say - compared to the Karl Lagerfeld range two years ago, at which I bought my now-battered handbag, it wasn't much to write home about. All shapeless silk dresses, which is wonderful if you are sylph-like, which I'm not). From there we went on to meet Ms. Robinson for a chat, and ended up in The Salisbury on St. Martins Lane, where
this glorious photograph was taken many years ago. We were stood at the bar and who should wander in but
Ms. Sabrina, top bird and erstwhile pal of
Jezzabo. Nice to see her, to see her nice.
In other news...errrrmmm...nothing really.
Yesterday's favourite, don't you hate it?
Soundtrack:
Visage, Duran Duran, Talk TalkThe past few days have alternated between very busy to entirely slothful.
I had an interview on Thursday evening that I was given just one day to prepare for, and this left me a bit of a husk for the remainder of the week. Fitting in cramming about the potential job inbetween working ridiculously hard in my day job was
challenging (as those of us who are trying to be polite about the conditions of our current employment say). I came out of the interview mentally shattered - and I knew from the moment I stepped outside the door of the place that I'd ballsed it up. [The only thing that kept me from freaking out totally when I got home was a nice chat with
Mrs. Green, which is always a tonic. Ta missus.]
Sure enough, I got confirmation that I wasn't successful with the job this morning. Having spent the entire weekend talking myself out of it, I don't actually feel that bad.
The weekend was spent doing all the usual stuff, like digging the allotment and looking at bathroom suites/colour schemes. This quite dull stuff was pretty much the only activity I could cope with, given the week up to that point.
So the above may go some little way to explain why I've been a bit distant recently. If I'm honest, I cannot be arsed to see
anyone at the moment - I hope that you aren't taking this personally. These things generally pass: I'll be back in touch soon.
