alberts hall

I’m sat in a boiling office wearing a fucking suit. I refused point blank to wear a tie mind you; when Hendrix was playing Monterey was he wearing a tie? No. Then neither shall I.

Tonight I’ve got to go to the Albert Hall and watch a man play with his organ, it’s a big organ and I’m going to stare at it, all glassy-eyed and bored shitless. For this reason I’m wearing the suit, I’ve been invited by a client and have been instructed to dress according by the MD who is also attending, he’s wearing a tie though. I’m not.

I had a nice weekend even if something was distinctly lacking. I met up with Harry on Friday and we had dinner at The Eagle, a ‘gastro’ pub that serves more than half decent fodder, sausages and cannelloni beans for me, Harry had the pork and we imbibed throughout, catching up in a mnner of civility. I took a long walk back through a subdued London to Moorgate and was home in good time for a pair of G&T’s and a lazy television episode.

Saturday I got up and set to work on the flat, a top to bottom scrub, dust and Hoover, which I punctuated with bubble and squeak with shredded bacon. After I did some writing stuff, which took me until early evening, it was back on the tube with Frank to meet Harry and Ollie in Fitzrovia. After a few beers we went to Busaba, a decently priced Thai restaurant and gorged ourselves on all manner oriental delights. I was home comfortably by midnight but due to the fact the flat was looking half decent and that there was no sign of Cunt I took advantage of my record player. One thing led to another and with wine in hand I accidentally turned in on Sunday morning at 6am with the fucking birds screaming their tiny feathered heads off and more light than a super nova.

I was up by 1pm in time for the Grand Prix but my poor head felt like corned beef. After a most congenial ending I did some more work before James arrived late afternoon for a cup of tea that turned into a pint. The evening drifted off over baked beans on toast and The Moto GP (nice one Valentino) and I watched The Machinist before retiring to bed, ironically if you’ve seen it, and I suggest you do.

Oh, new link to the right, How the Good Look Naked, check it out, just over to your right…