ruddy hot

Despite my getting up at 7am in the East End and travelling right across London by bus and tube for well over an hour, then walking home and changing I fucking cycled in this morning. The fact I look as if I’ve just had a full submersion baptism is of no consequence here.

The weekend begun with a furnace-cycle back to the flat that required a shower, the first of many over the weekend. In fact, I showered so much this weekend I may have developed a tonsure, which is keeping with my earlier simile my god-fearing friends…

I digress.

The farting-chink of the pub was calling, and after IC arrived we sauntered off into the still evening air as young children enjoyed various childish pursuits; skating, skipping, scooting, heavy petting, before arriving at the mercifully quiet local to meet Harry and make some space in the beer garden -at some point in all this my dad called to casually inform me that the family pile, the place I’d called ‘home’ for over 30 years was on the market- then James arrived, then O, then Frank (whose birthday it was) and his missus for a jolly good old laugh and wotnot. Marvellous. IC and I were on the tube by 10pm heading east, by the time we alighted at Old Street I was choc-full-o-piss and was forced to micturate in a pub populated by skins. We bussed back to Hackney via a shop to attain comestibles and booze and planted ourselves in the flat. It was the weekend.

Breakfast didn’t happen until 1pm in a little café near Dalston, I had a grilled steak sandwich which was right on the bloody money but was aced by IC’s smoked-trout salad, believe it or not (yes, a salad) and we headed back out into the burning city to go about our business and take some time out in a park. Come evening we were obliged to quench the bastard heat with a few pints in a local located in a residential street, which was local… We were joined by SH and his missus and a couple of other pals and remained seated outside until nightfall. We all piled in a car and spent the remainder of the night laughing our skulls out of its skin whilst stuffing our faces with the food purchased that afternoon.

Sunday, again I managed to avoid a hangover, we took a stroll over London Fields to Columbia Road to the flower market and walked up from there to take brunch at a place which I’ve just been informed has just been voted the best wotsit in pahh. IC knows nearly all the staff, I know a few of them too, actually, and to be frank it’s not the sort of place one would regularly attend save an occasion of some description. Both IC and I had the eggs benedict that were by far and away the best fucking breakfast-type thing I’ve ever had. The décor is white, cool and minimalist without being uncomfortable, a grand piano was being tinkled by a punk rock looking fellow and the bloody food, darling, is too die for!! (sorry about that).

The return to the sunshine was quite a shock; it was the hottest part of the weekend, too much for me but armed with three papers, two broadsheets and one vacuous tabloid, we spent an hour in London fields basking in the sunny glories of the day. The atmosphere of the East in comparison to the South is palpable, I may have already said this before, I totally fucked up buying where I bought, Tooting, by comparison is dirty, aggressive and without that vibrancy that makes the essential parts of the East so progressive and thoroughly enjoyable. Having that that it’s not everyday one sees an entire bag of offal sat splatted in the middle of the road of an afternoon, such is the rich tapestry of the East mused IC and I as we stopped for a swift half prior to home and movies and food and bit of Cava.

Having a dreadful day here, it’s still kicking off business wise.

Finally, I’m sure you were all glad to know, like me, that the honking dough-boy-faced prick Cameron has his stolen bike back… They even returned his helmet, which surprised him as he reckoned it would be worth a few bob on ebay, the sheer arrogance/ego of the tosser knows no bounds. Still, got me thinking how that would be listed.

‘Unfortunate device designed for saving the brain of a right wing fuck-wit. It stinks of misguided ambition, Just For Men and excretion. Will gladly pay to have shot of it’

Cameron, eat some Lard.