On Wednesday maybe I get up and go to work, maybe I don't, I don't remember, I don't want to, and then I skip the gym and go over to Scott's house where I have dinner and then I go back into town where I meet A Girl.
And A Girl and I go to a gig. This gig is by Hercules & Love Affair and it's in Soho and the tickets were sent to me by a reader who was extremely kind, so I'd like to thank him again. Thank you.
Which also reminds me any other concert/event tickets are greatly appreciated, plus you can easily send me tickets for something, track me down and kill me, but please don’t do that because then I won’t be able to write about it.
At the concert the following things happen:
- A Girl drinks a few alcoholic beverages (two? fifteen? something like that) and I drink two bottles of water (going all out)
- The venue is tiny and if we were that way inclined we could be right at the front and within range of the bodily heat exuded by members of Hercules & Love Affair. Instead, we're stood at the back of the dancefloor, which is still close enough to see their fillings
- The gig is very good
- There are outfit changes
- Nobody hot is there (that I see) apart from the transsexual main singer. Oh and the ginger guy at the back
- Here’s a picture
Then the gig finishes and following this event I go home.
On Thursday I go to work but that main thing that happens on Thursday is that I have the best lunch break ever. The events that contribute to the best lunch break ever can be summed up as follows.
- I am listening to Chromeo’s album Fancy Footwork, which would be in my top 5 albums of 2007 if I hadn’t just discovered it last month (as recommended by the writer of this blog here - which is ace for music recommendations amongst other things).
- I have £20 in my wallet (two notes of £10) and I know I have to get rid of it. I never ever carry cash around with me – I pay for everything on a card – and if I do it disturbs me. I don’t know how I ended up having this (somebody owed me money? I stole it from somewhere?) but it has to go.
- I go in Urban Outfitters and I buy another pair of white plimsolls. These cost £10. You can never have enough white plimsolls; well I’m sure you can have enough in five weeks’ time when everyone is sick of them and completely ashamed of walking around in them, but right now every second person in London is wearing them and I never claimed to be anything more than cattle.
- I go in H&M and I see that they are selling knee-length denim shorts (originally £19.99) for £10 for one day only. I expect them to not have my size, but the last pair on the rack is a 30 waist. I buy those. (The cashier actually charges me £19.99 and when I point out the sign that says £10 he doesn’t smile/apologise/acknowledge me, he just changes the price and ignores me, but I don’t let that take away from the good time I’m having. Thank you, Joseph, at H&M Convent Garden anyway)
- I go in Carluccio’s where I stare at a chocolate fudge cake for about six minutes and then I go and buy the NME and then I go back to the office
- I have a conversation with ___ on the phone, whereby we plan to get complementary Suede tattoos, with a lyric from Stay Together, a lyric that goes “and we can feel a little closer as we tumble through the sky” (split in two)
For the second time in less than a month, I’m sorry but I’m happy.