| Monday May 29 Jon helps me compile a couple of lists for Metro. As does C. We play a stupid rock'n'roll trivia quiz game that C's parents bought back from Essex. C's parents aren't visiting us today, like C expected, to help with the garden, as her mum is upset that we didn't let them stay with us this weekend. They, not quite understanding that we've been travelling for damn near two years now and appreciate a little time to ourselves right now. Listen to Television's "The Blow Up" and C's mate Sharon come around, to help C buy some stuff from B&Q. Garden stuff, cleaning stuff. It's a glorious, sunny Bank Holiday in Brighton - and everyone I know and used to know, including Jon and Charlotte, are down at the beach front. Except for me. Pretending to work, pretending to dream. In the evening, Andrew and Kay Dickinson come over and Kay tells me that I should be able to walk into any writing gig I like at FHM and The Observer (say). Right. We discuss new looks for Loaded: keep the babes on the cover, but make them one-legged amputee babes; keep GQ's idea of 50 Questions For Tara Palmer-Tompkinson, but make sure you ask her 50 different questions every month; make it the written equivalent of Ali G; crochet patterns for cod-pieces. The usual. It's good, and odd, to meet Kay after all this time. Lectures in film and writes for "Sight And Sound". So she has several advantages over me, already. The four of us play roll'n'rock trivia. C wins. Later, Jon and I talk around in circles about the fucked-up years. I tell him that one of my worst moments was when I realised that he and I are totally different, after years of thinking we were similar. Duh. About women, I mean. This depresses both him and me the following day. © Everett True 2000 |
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