Kid on left cried, kid on right laughed the whole time
Me and the ladies (with Mr T getting in on the act)
Christmas Day was the usual round of over-eating and lolling around. Some spectacular gifts from Mother - topping the mad polls were the fairy wand which flashed and played a techno tune (?), the fire extinguisher - "didn't this used to be in your kitchen, Mum?" to which she replied "yes, I didn't want it any more" (??), but far and away the winner - a crystal baby's dummy in a silk presentation box, one each received by me, my sister and my brother, congratulating us on the birth of our new baby (????????). "Ooooh, I'll kill that bloke in the shop, they were supposed to be crystal guardian angels", she said. We wouldn't give them back for return. Too funny and too precious to relinquish.
Boxing Day - donned the wellies and went for the traditional walk with my brother. Marsden was on top form - freezing cold but brilliant sunshine too...lovely. Wore Dad's trilby - Mum likes it to get a walk too:
Came back to London, lots of relaxing - did a huge walk to the Heath and back, watched lots of films...lovely.
New Year's Eve - although the main attraction was a night of uptown-heavy-rockin' at Heavy Load, I was meeting Blondie and the Old Punk at The Angel. Now as The Angel normally closes at 7pm on NYE, I thought I wouldn't make it. Imagine my surprise when I got a text off Blondie saying Landlord Mike had invited us to his NYE lock-in private party. Holy Grail of lock-ins. When I arrived, the party was in full swing and the free booze was flowing. Superb. Had a good laugh with Mike and his family, and we were pretty sad when we had to go and meet up with the rest of the gang. Picked up Smiff and Marc on the way, and then headed over to HL. Ensconced in our usual shady corner, we ate our way through the sweet buckets put out for the punters, and danced to top tunes all night. Marc got the champagne in, and added to the Jägermeister/lager/JD combo, I reckon it was responsible for some of the moves I pulled on the dancefloor...
New Year's Day brought a severe hangover...which turned into a five-day bedfest. The shivers, aches, pains I suffered CANNOT be attributed to the booze - I can neck that on a normal night and be up with the lark the next day. No, i succumbed to the dreaded flu. Not nice, and certainly no way to start a New Year. Then, on the 8th day, I arose (not unlike Jesus, but no beard or sandals and I took slightly longer to get out of the cave thing), thinking "yup, this is me getting better". By Sunday, the chest and sinus infection had struck. So I went to the docs, and got the dreaded antibiotics. But boy-oh-boy, those babies do work. So now I'm really on the mend. 16 days in and not a 2009 night out under my belt. And no gig yet! WHAT??? My first gig of the year will be The Gutter Twins on Monday at the Union Chapel. Might ask Mr Lanegan to rub some Vicks on my chest...
Postscript: I am dreadfully sad to read that John Mortimer has died. I've read so much of his work over the years, including all the Rumpole stuff. Barrister and QC, he was a great libertarian, and defended brilliantly at both the Last Exit To Brooklyn obscenity trial in 1969 and Oz "Schoolkids" trials in the early 70s. He was a funny, witty clever man who was high on my top ten list of people I'd actually like to meet and have a pint with, preferably in the French House (and in my fantasy, Peter O'Toole would join us slightly later...)
