| Friday May 19 It rains. I travel up to London, and am instantly depressed by the stench of faded old lovers at King's Reach Tower. Sit around watching Bis throwing darts at a target for no apparent reason and listening to some truly dire singles. (Fortunately I brought along one of my own - MSHB - which scoops the top honours.) Colleen is with Bis, the same old Colleen. Back home, I still fail to do any work, waiting until my plate is over-flowing and dripping over my salvaged blue jeans to start. In the evening, David Bennun and myself drink tea, beer and are joined by Charlotte later. Apple Macs are discussed, like in the olden days. As we become increasingly more drunk, Dave's incredibly inept regional accents come to the fore - much to the amusement of myself and C. He's a good chap, though - offers support, even though I still don't know what there is to be supported. (It occurs to me that 25 album reviews for various web sites could all be off set by one decent commission at a broadsheet. This, however, is unlikely to happen. You need to know people. I know no one. I never did take advantage of myself back in the day.) In the North Lanes earlier, C and I bump into six people we know in the space of a few shops. Will is moving back to the Free Butt. Fat Ian is still Fat Ian. (He is two stone less actually.) Rory is ever more suspicious of me every year we meet. (That's true actually.) Andy Hitchcock is becoming rather chubby in his early thirties, but is still not on the same planet as normal folk thankfully. Steph calls to wish Jon happy birthday. Ingo calls to invite me to see Quickspace - a band I singularly love. Of course I don't go out. (That is, unless I review the show for a web site that is printing this journal. In which case, I did.) © Everett True 2000 |
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