Friday nights are always fun. That first shred of demob happiness that you get because it’s three sleeps till work comes back around is intoxicating. And I decided to crack open the Veuve Clicquot Rose whilst eating pizza and watching a Back to Basics double bill. Hmm, you can see how this goes. It’s basic mathematics.
2 gays+ 2 pizzas+ Ina Garten + half a bottle of champagne a piece= a night a Dempseys till about 2 in the morning and invariably making myself a bit of a mess for my early start for a haircut. Fortunately my hairdresser was out at Dempseys too, although he was far too cool for school to chat to me. He was however a bit taken aback when I was a bit looser tongued this morning. I had to just submit to the hangover, there was no getting away from it. I just had to roll with it.
The lad who washes your hair is the ultimate sweetheart, I love him. He has had a full sleeve tattoo started, all it needs is colouring in. But I was asking him about it, and he told me a cute story about his mum coming and pulling the bed clothes back, and not falling out with him over the size or permanence of it, but the fact he has paid however much it cost and he has not given her his board this month. I just found that such a funny story, it’s a very British thing to be falling out over board and lodgings, it makes everyone sound like it’s 1953 and you are living in a seaside guest house with a widower who invariably in my head looks like Anne Reid or Julie Walters.
The rest of the morning was spent aimlessly around town. I had my breakfast in a cafe called no 22a in town, which was average only because it was a bit drafty where I was sat. I wanted the door shutting really. I then went to TK and bought a spoon rest, a red heart shaped ramekin to match my black one and a mandolin to slice onions finely. We then went on to Sainsburys and got lots to make a nice pot roast tomorrow, and that was that. Tomorrow has to be better productivity wise as Chicago is only 4 days away and it feels that we are almost denying the fact it’s coming round. I’m usually far more prepared. Ok my dry cleaning is done, some t shirts ironed and my tops for going out, but otherwise my jeans are still to be washed and they can take ages to dry, my going out clothes are yet to be decided on, I have not even begun to contemplate shoes. It’s a bit stressful. I need to think on this. Cowboy boots yes or no? Biker boots yes or no? How many pairs of converse? Coats- yay or nay? Gym kit- few pieces then hand wash or lots? I’m not ready for these seemingly existential but frighteningly current questions.
Foodwise we had it easy. Left over Thai curry went on a potato. Leftover pie and mash was tea. Simple. Ten k in Endcliffe Park in the morning. Need to go and pick stuff up at 8.30ish. Groan. Very early and I’ll be solo so don’t even know where to ditch my stuff. Looking forward to a race though, it’s been a while and I like the adrenaline. I’m also keen to actually get out there having run on a treadmill for weeks and not on the road. I miss the streets sometimes. I’m hoping I will sleep tonight, seeing as next door is away and his bastard smoke alarm won’t stop going off. No smoke is evident so it’s just an annoyance.
Loved the X Factor. It’s bonkers. Wagner is back, with the quote of the series “I used to live in Brazil, now I live in a bungalow in Dudley”. I also loved Paije talking about where he loves “I live in a maisonette in North London with my mum. It’s enough for us”. As if the world was questioning whether that was an adequate home allocation, spatially, or something. It was weird that for once someone was honest, and that Treyc girl said that the other girls in her category, Cher and Katie, were unhappy to see her. Like it’s a competition or something. It’s honest because of course they were not happy, but usually you get the sob story peddled as the truth. Its not like Katie has been groomed for this, and has had record deals in the last, under alternative names. It’s not at all like the X Factor publicists have created this faux image of delicate Cher the Malvern school girl thrust in the limelight, when she will have had extensive performance training over the years. Of course not. In reality this is all random. These are just normal folk who come from nowhere and become singers. Mary from Tesco has not won the same type of competition in Ireland a couple of years ago. Course not, stop being cynical. It’s all just a bit fake now. But loved Diva Fever. And Aidan. I love a bit of drama.
Right now, need to sleep. Hopefully, more meaningful blogging tomorrow. All smug post run blogging too. Can’t wait till Chicago! Eek just a few more days!
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad