late/never

Yesterday evening following a pretty hectic day at work I climbed into my bosses Volvo, a work colleague/friend and the bosses wife joined us and we pootled off to town as we had to attended the launch of a large music event that takes place over the summer.

Suited and booted as per instruction we were all in fairly high spirits, largely down to the forthcoming hospitality. About 10 minutes away from out destination I got a call from my mate in NYC inviting me on a fully paid up trip to The Cannes Film Festival. At first I didn’t think I’d be able to make it on account of my mum’s retirement bash but the (dates don’t coincide as it turns out) real issue was that my boss heard the call and vetoed the trip on the grounds that the dates would prevent me from meeting a fucking deadline.

Needless to say I’m less than impressed by this directive and am trying to figure out a way round it…

We arrived at the venue, free champagne and wine with little fucking pointless canapés being handed about by shy pretty girls dressed in 20’s clobber was a boon. A speech was made and the mingling began. After a couple of hours my friend from work, her boyfriend, a music journo and I all slipped off to a friendly half empty boozer near Baker Street after meeting each other with the other handful of smokers outside. We drunk steadily, the banter was friendly and interesting and at some point later I found myself in a black cab on my way home.

I woke this morning feeling shit, aware that last night was essentially ‘work’ I stayed in bed until 11am before lazily getting dressed; clambering aboard my Triumph (the bicycle can get fucked) and arriving here about an hour ago.

This explains why today’s blog is both late and short, I need a fucking blood transfusion.

Lazy offing today and yes, I do like them so fuck off