Sunday, October 23, 2005

Sunday night homework

It's Sunday evening and I'm supposed to be reading up on stuff on Jerusalem and Bethlehem for work and all I can hear in my head - ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY HEAD - is Little Donkey on a continuous loop.


Entirely inappropriate.

Music on please. Click!

Also easing off the effects of last night drinking, drinking and drinking in the bars of South London. Which was mighty fun. Shocking that we don't go out in Brixton more really, as it's just over there. Look, just there. Do you see.

Went to Satay Bar for foodstuffs and then a wine bar called Hive on Beehive Place. I think it used to be the Havana bar thing, but now is not. It was nice, but I can't find a weblink for it. Arse.

With distressing inevitability thoughts have turned to Christmas. People already making vague plans. Adverts appearing on the tellybox (W H Smith's have ditched the crap worm puppet things from last year. Nor are they asking Nicholas Lyndhurst to drag up again it seems. Thank you Holy Farter.). Decorations in shops. Groan. I may be in danger of turning into a grumpy young man*.

...Actually, I have been thinking I've been on a bit of late-twenties-crisis trip lately. Then I thought to myself that that is just so impossibly up its own bottom that really I should just get on with life and stop whinging about work and how busy I am. And actually bloody organise some things with friends.

Spent a fabulous and therapeutic couple of hours yesterday over a very long breakfast/lunch with Lady Lana yesterday, in which we bemoaned the state of some aspects of our lives. While eyeing up the barstaff and our fellow-customers. Obviously. It was dead nice. But not of interest here.

Also this weekend there has been signs of the resuscitation effort on my lovelife working. Hooray. We have a blip on our blippy-monitor thing they always have in Holby City.

Oh Christ I don't watch Holby City. I swear. Not for ages, anyway... though someone should really get the scriptwriters to tackle MRSA.

(*Does anyone else still automatically hear Kathy Burke screeching "YOUNG MAAAN!" from Harry Enfield And Chums? No? Just me? Hokaythen.)


Damascus said...

Arrange things with friends? Whatever possessed you to think of that???? Hmm?

Boz said...

And look! A whole 24 hours have passed and I have done no such thingy. Bum.