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Friday, 4 June 2004

Ugh


Topic: Vic Jameson

Ugh. I feel like poo. Reformed biscuit based poo. Yesterday I took the ferry to France. It costs six pounds, cheaper than a London travelcard, but you need to get up at five in the morning to get there, so by eleven, you feel like you've done an entire day on a floating council estate already, and end up drinking. On an empty stomach.


I took humongous hordes of pictures, but by the journey home again, was drunk enough to be forcing people to prance about the train in my underwear, apparently pinching people on the arse, and losing at finger wrestling.
I fell asleep on the last train home, found myself lost in Penge (where does everyone disappear to so fast when they disembark from the last train? It's like cockroaches scuttling for cover - you never see where they go), being kerb crawled by a helpful turkish guy who was most concerned for my welfare, and walking for an indeterminate length of time to find a mini-cab firm. Perhaps that sense of safety and security was what possessed me to sleep with all the windows and curtains open?
Today, I possess, as ever, a face only the cat could love, a stinking cold, a camera full of close ups of French Fairy Figurines and blue rum babas, and my flat looks like there's been an explosion.
Yep, tonight, I have a date. Good timing.
The sharking technique of waiting till I'm drunk then asking out anyone within fifty feet radius proves scattergun but effective.
I got tickets for The Black Rider. So although my prospective datee has gone awful quiet when faced with my incredible taste in venue selection, at least there's a sizeable chance of pensioner nudity from Marianne Faithfull.
Ugh.

Best Blo'te of the Day So Far: Casino Avenue
""Ah, this is the one we've been waiting for," said one of the little gang of bus fans outside. It's like a smaller, unrevamped version of the Routemaster, all wooden floors and springy seats. We set off up the Bow Road, a couple of mums-and-kids got on, past the church (as Steve Norris' campaign bus passed us) and up the Blackwall Tunnel approach road for a short distance as usual. Left at Old Ford, straight on... "Wrong way!" Oops. These all being run by enthusiasts, and the 8 being a tricky route, something had to go wrong... a quick bit of reversing, and back on course. Going on a bus going backwards seemed to make the kids' day."

This page graced by sarsparilla at 11:22 AM BST
Updated: Saturday, 5 June 2004 3:44 PM BST
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Friday, 4 June 2004 - 11:33 AM BST

Name: sarah

"by eleven, you feel like you've done an entire day on a floating council estate already"

That's a great phrase.

Friday, 4 June 2004 - 3:01 PM BST

Name: dave


It's a bit like queuing up in Netto, but more expensive and without the Albanian tinned peach halves.

Friday, 4 June 2004 - 3:51 PM BST

Name: Terry
Home Page: http://morecoffee.blogspot.com

I'd be interested to know what you make of the Black Rider. Feeling like poo, with a head full of sand, you sound like you're in the right frame of mind for some german-y caberet-y Tom Waits noise. "Oily Night" is a good one. And appropriate music for a date?

Friday, 4 June 2004 - 5:42 PM BST

Name: Kat
Home Page: http://mostlyfluff.blogspot.com

Hey, prancing around in underwear is therapeutic. Usually.

Congrats on the date. If she asks if her ass looks fat in those jeans always say, "no." Just a reminder.

Saturday, 5 June 2004 - 1:17 AM BST

Name: Vanessa

It was brilliant. Utterly utterly mad, but brilliant. And the people seated behind us in the box looked like they'd escaped from the show themselves.

Saturday, 5 June 2004 - 5:02 AM BST

Name: Lux
Home Page: http://www.shylux.blogspot.com

Like, Europe is so cool. :P You can take day trips to other countries. And relatively cheaply.

I'm a few hours away from Canada- that's the closest country I can visit. The nearest city is Montreal, and the only way to get there is by car or filthy nasty bus (and if you choose that option it's assumed by immigration that you're smuggling drugs) ... not a trip you'd want to take by yourself, though Montreal is beautiful.

Maybe that's why Americans are less inclined to learn other languages... unless you're a rich jetsetter with lots of time to travel, you'd have little opportunity to use them.

Here I go, infiltrating other blogs with moody morose observations...

Saturday, 5 June 2004 - 12:35 PM BST

Name: Fluffy
Home Page: http://brain-spasm.blogspot.com

good luck on the date!
Try not to laugh at pensioner nudity though

Saturday, 5 June 2004 - 3:30 PM BST

Name: Vanessa

Mexico?

Saturday, 5 June 2004 - 3:33 PM BST

Name: Vanessa

The English are disinclined towards languages, too, rather, although learning them is compulsory. Well, at least to a pathetically rudimentary level. I think it stems from already speaking the international languge of communication.

although the speakers of the international lvnguage of postal services don't like it.

Saturday, 5 June 2004 - 6:43 PM BST

Name: lux

Mexico from here would be several days by car or all day by plane. Though I'm sure people who live in the bordering states visit more often and speak better Spanish than I do.

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