Soundtrack to our lives
Saturday included pottering around the cafés of Crouch End with The Ex, eating cakes, drinking tea, talking about dildos (don't ask). The Ex is a successful web producer at the BBC. His team had bought him a birthday card (his birthday is the day before mine) which was a really sweet picture of meadow flowers, and they'd drawn a great big cock over the top of it. I found this very touching - they obviously think he's a great boss and have a lot of respect for him:
They spend your licence fee on stuff like this
Was really bloody lucky to get into a completely sold-out Warlocks gig at the Luminaire. Yet again, it's who I know and certainly not what I know. Having been previously introduced to the very witty and charming Andy Inglis who runs the Luminaire by Howard Local at a gig (Dan Mangan if my fading memory serves me right), we were lucky enough to bump into him on the door and get a sneaky pass in. Back of the net! And they were superb, those Warlocks (Bobby Hecksher is top - I saw him afterwards and told him so, to which he replied, "oh, thanks so much for coming down" in a truly humble and enthusiastic way - lovely manners). And then, there seemed to be a lot of booze and things turned a bit soft round the edges, including me...all good, though...:
The perfect combo of psych and good manners
Good, that is, until I had to collect my car next morning after 4 hours sleep...not big, not at all clever. Not entirely sure I should have been driving, actually. But after a shower and a mammoth fry-up, this Lady Lazarus rose again. Back to the pub for my birthday drinks with all my nearest and dearest. Perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon - pals, few drinks (medicinal, by this point), lots of laughs - big love goes to anyone who turned up and for my goodies too: Mr & Mrs Barton for the choccy cake and fizz; Vik and Tim for my french violet creams; Smiff for my slap; Mr Local for my jazz-metal CD; Liza and Dave for the scary slinky thing and screenprint; Ber & K for the curry when I got in; but topping the lot, me old mucker Blondie who had hunted down a copy of my 70's Hornsea pottery childhood mug which I loved so dearly, until I broke it some years back:
What a mug (it, not me)
(Postscript: Having just read this week's Luminaire mailout, can I suggest that any of my regular readers subscribe here: http://www.theluminaire.co.uk/ Even if you only subscribe, with no intention of going to what can only be described as probably London's best small venue, run by a very witty Scot, staffed by cheerful, competent people, hosting some fine musicians every week, then you will at least be treated to what is one of the funniest mailouts I have the pleasure of reading. This week I feature heavily (see Warlocks paragraph above) as the inebriated 'friend' who suggested he might want to bring the swearing and ranting back into the mailout. We raging potty mouths have to stick together.)
