What a week, gang!
Shall we do this chronologically and get it out the way in an organised fashion? I’d wait for a reply to that, but it’d require posting first and that would just confuse matters.
I’ve got a feeling this post is going to be a long one, so I will attempt to break it down with some pictures. Now, I didn’t take any pictures this week (Whaaaa’?!) but I’ll befriend Google Images.
I finally packed. As always, I left it ’til the early hours of the day I was due to depart and then complained when I woke up ridiculously tired at stupid o’clock in the morning. Despite it being a local holiday (news to me…) my father had offered to give me a lift to the station the day before. He did so and proceeded to drive straight into amazing traffic. This resulted in me getting out of the car while we were stopped at some lights, grabbing my suitcase out of the boot and running to the train station. The journey seemed to pass relatively quickly, probably due to the fact that I had a plug-socket next to me and so could abuse the free internet on my phone.
We got into Kings Cross after 3pm and within two minutes of my being there, I’d spotted somebody famous. That guy wot used to be in Coronation Street, then ended up in Dr Who… I’ve since been informed his name is Bruno Langley. Anyhoo, I dumped my case in Left Luggage and with nothing to do ’til 6pm, hopped on a tube to Oxford Circus and wandered around for a bit. I soon heard from McK and was told they were all at Water Rats, so I headed back to Kings Cross in the blistering heat to join them. I got to the venue, heard them soundchecking and ordered myself a drink and read some Will Self.
I was joined by the fellas and we sat around having a chat about nothing in particular. My favourite subject. Too soon, it was 6pm, so I dashed off to phone-a-Grace and they rushed away to fill their bellies. I called Gracie and we decided to meet at left luggage. So I retrieved my case, sat on it and five minutes later fell off. I moved to a chair instead.
The lady miss lady soon arrived and we swanned off to her place for no real reason. I’ve no idea how it got so late, but we ended up in Shepherd’s Bush at Nella and Kerry’s at about 10pm and decided to go for late dinner. Apparently, Wagamama staff will hate you if you turn up half an hour before closing. Whodathunkit?
Grace departed and the rest of us walked back to the house, stopping only to look at discarded videos. Sleep soon came.
Tuesday.
Woke up at the same time as Kerry and decided to accompany her to work. Evidently, we were the only people awake at 9.30am despite the bus being packed. This meant that we were the only ones talking. Not necessarily at great volume, but as we were the only ones, it must have been hard not to listen in. Before we got off at our stop, Kerry attempted to subtly convey some information to me. I didn’t pick up on this at all as I was attempting to write out an email on my phone and not sound like a dick in it; a difficult task for a dick like me. We got to the top of the steps and she told me to look two seats behind where we’d been sitting. I tried, blog, I really tried, but with the bus jumping up and down and me trying not to fall down the stairs AND shut my phone (which Kerry had texted out of sheer frustration of me not understanding her hints while we’d been sitting down.) up, I couldn’t concentrate, so didn’t notice the person she was trying to direct my attention to (could that be the most complicated sentence in the world?).
We got off the bus and she immediately asked if I saw who it was. I hadn’t. Turns out it was Simon (Mc)Farnaby. And he was listening in on our thrilling conversation. This made me giggle lots. Then worry about what we were talking about in case I’d inadvertently said something offensive.
I dropped Kerry off at work (I wanted to say that so I could sound like a mum) and walked down Portobello Road. The heat was insane and not many places were open, so I didn’t make it all the way down. I honestly can’t remember what I did next. Possibly went to Carnaby Street, but I’ve no idea. Was I drugged? I do remember that at about 2pm I went to Kensington Gardens, had some food, wrote Sarah a letter and lay around for about two hours in the sunshine. Amazing. Perfectly content being in my favourite city, yet doing nothing. At about 4.30, I headed back to Oxford Street-ish in the hope that I might find a quiet pub near the 100 Club to sit until 7pm-ish when I’d meet Grace. Instead, I ended up just walking around until about 6, not finding anywhere and having to settle for a Pret A Manger.
We walked down to the club and joined the queue, then left the queue and found Sarah and Lucy, then Nella and Kerry and re-joined. We didn’t get chairs for some reason, so leaned against a bar all night. Jon Richardson was hosting the comedy night. It had been announced that Sir Matt Berry had been added to the bill after we’d decided to go. Happy accident if anything. Anyway, yeah: Jon Richardson – very funny. Tom Deacon – meh, alright. Broken Biscuits – no. Then a break. Mr Berry was introduced when the interval was over. He came on, set up, did about four minutes then left the bemused faces. Andi Osho – probably not too bad, but me and Kerry were better. Phil Nichol – just no. After Berry’s set, Kerry went out for a smoke and we saw the man leave. Turns out he’d walked past her complaining to someone that he was thrown onto the bill at the last minute just so they’d have another name on the list. Poor sod, but good of him to perform anyway.
After a lost phone drama frustration, Grace made her way home and the rest of us went to the pub for a cheeky drink, then also parted ways. Nella, Kerry and I singing walking down Oxford Street. Then to the bus, then home again, home again, jiggity jig.
Wednesday.
I awoke with Kerry, again, and we jumped on the bus we’d now decided to call the Farnaby Express. He wasn’t there. I got on a tube to Victoria and decided to do my Victoria – Southwark walk. There were Sri Lanka protests down at parliament…
Even as I got to Westminster Bridge, I was regretting it due to my shit shoes and feet dying, but I struggled on and walked along Fleet Street and went into Stephen Fry’s house, the Twining’s Shop. Had never been in before, got overwhelmed by the smell of loveliness so went straight back out again. I eventually got to the Tate Modern, wandered around for a bit, then caught a tube to London Bridge at roughly 1pm where I sat in the pub with a rum and a book until about 2.30 when the wonderful Sarah turned up. We had a couple of drinks, sat about there for most of the afternoon, had a quick jaunt to Notting Hill to retrieve a bag I’d left with Kerry and then headed to Kings Cross to go meet Lynsey and Anna at a pub near the Scala. We were soon joined by Jill, Katie and Grace and then we rescued Jubey from the Scala queue and brought her back to the pub.
We left for the venue quite late and missed the support band by standing around talking and admiring people’s boots. By the time we bothered ourselves to go through to the stage, the place was packed, it was fantastic. All those people there for that one man. Lovely. And he came on and lapped it up and looked slightly taken aback at how it was a full house. I felt happy for him. The man did good.
Spoke to him briefly afterwards despite having nothing to say. I did not demand a hug, therefore feel I have redeemed myself. I’ve just remembered that I put on my life-list something like “Meet Matt Berry again and leave him not thinking I’m peculiar…” as a joke, but I could probably technically score it off now. Eff it, I’m gonna. It’ll make it look like I’ve done more.
After the gig, I headed with Anna and Sarah back to their abode and proceeded to stay up ’til 5am with Sarah watching the Apprentice and… god knows what else we did for four more hours! Youtube was involved. And general internetness. And cups of tea.
On Thursday we just hung out all day. Walked around, went to Kensington Gardens again. Missed Kerry somehow, but I’ve got a feeling we were waiting at different gates. I felt really terrible about it anyway and ate too many croissants to take my mind off the harrowing guilt. I later bought her something pretty to make up for it.
We had some Pimm’s, then food and drinks with Lynsey, Jill and Katie. We were enjoying the quiet, but lovely atmosphere until several old men turned up. One of whom smelled Lynsey’s jacket. He was strange. We called it a night not long after and again, I made my way to Chez Sarah.
We took it easy again on Friday. We somehow managed to spend the whole morning making cds and watching Darkplace. I wish I could spend every morning doing that. After saying “I really better do something…” for about 2 hours, I finally left in the early afternoon. I said a nearly-tearful goodbye to the Lady Miss Penrose and sat still on the train. Sad times. Then McGrogz called as we were pulling into London Bridge and that cheered me up a bit. As time went on, I started to feel really crap in my tum-tum, so abandoned plans to go to Camden and get a Friday ticket to the Crawl. I went sad again ‘cos I knew it was my last chance to see Grace, but I really couldn’t face the crowds. I sat alone in Kensington Gardens, doing a bit of writing. Mainly self-pitying mumbo and jive about how I felt shit and didn’t wanna go home. I took some pills and about an hour later started to feel better. Decided to walk around Oxford Street for a bit, then go meet Kerry from work.
We met up, then tried to find a pub that wasn’t packed to go and sit in. We were soon joined by (look, gonna be formal and use real names…) James and Paul and spent a delightful evening out the front of the pub discussing anything we could think of. Then we moved on and just had a relaxing night basking in each other’s company and generally having a lovely time. Good company, good conversation, good drinking. A perfect final evening.
Then we caught the bus back to Shepherd’s Bush and with a heavy, but moderately tipsy, heart I went to sleep.
On Saturday, again I woke when Kerry woke and joined her on the bus to Notting Hill. For the gazillionth (…fifth?) time in two days, I said another sad goodbye and dragged my case to Camden for a last-minute search for shoes. To no avail. I ended up in Waterstone’s there and bought a book purely based on the fact that it was “fate” (there was one copy left and the shop was playing the Lovecats.)
I made my way to Kings Cross early, waited a while for my platform to be announced and boarded the train to Edinburgh with a head full of memories and a bag full of… leaflets, mainly. Then we changed in Edinburgh and were in Aberdeen by about 8.30pm. After the week of glorious sunshine down south, it was inevitably raining up in the Granite City. I sighed and wanted to cry a bit, but sisterresisted.
Here we are. It’s Tuesday (technically Wednesday morning) and I’m feeling better. I’ll move there soon. I’m hopeful… I think.
Sorry if you read all of that. It got a bit… lacklustre at the end there.
You are clearly mentally ill or dedicated to chronological rambling. Either way, I admire you. Have a prize.
*
A Big Ben duck!
*This may or may not have been the “something pretty” I bought for Kerry… I am an amazing friend…
