Hmm...headache...furry tongue...clumsiness...unwillingness to get out of bed... If my diagnosis is correct, it would appear that I have my first hangover for (at least) five years. Which means that I may finally be cured of my phobia of alcohol. Hurrah! Let the fun begin!
This is clearly a momentous occasion, so I would like to thank my fellow drinkers of yesterday evening, cello, Pashmina and Wyndham, for their sterling contribution to my victory. Especially to cello, who paid for all the booze. I'd also especially like to thank Wyndham for inspiring me to start smoking again after my long exile (well, two days) in the wilderness. *Ostentatiously wiping away a tear* I couldn't have done it without you.
Yes, I must have been drunk last night, otherwise I would never have thought it would be a great idea to walk all the way home from Mortimer St, W1, to Askew Road, W12. Boy, that's a long walk. Just in case anyone else was considering it.
Meanwhile, in musical matters, we have a three-way tie for Song Of The Week, between Patrick Wolf's Lycanthropy (toy instruments, clapping, bleeping, slightly unhinged laughter); The Decemberists' Shanty for the Arethusa (creaking masts, accordion, screaming, lyrics that could have come straight out of John Masefield's poem Cargoes) and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' Darker With The Day, which is one of those beautiful piano ballads that seem at first to be about lost love, but which are actually about the evils of urban development, the Fall of Man and the loss of innocence, with a bit of New Testament iconography and the word 'cunts' thrown in for good measure - you know the sort*.
Now, where's the Nurofen?
* Unless you're one of the people I saw last night queuing outside the Shepherd's Bush Empire to see James Blunt. Or indeed, if you *are* James Blunt. In which case you probably don't. But you should.
About Stoppard
2 days ago
14 comments:
*Wyndham bows his head in shame*
Cello bows hers even lower, because she then got in a car and drove home. Disgraceful.
I should point out to those who have a different understanding of drunkenness than I do that I probably only consumed two glasses of red wine. Me very cheap date.
Bravo madam, bravo! Within the drinking profession the urge to start drunkenly marching towards your home, regardless of its distance from your present location, is known as a Beer Taxi.
In winter you may also find yourself wearing a Beer Jacket, which will allow you to make the journey regardless of how sodding cold it might be.
Glad you all had a good time - always a shame to miss out on free booze (and the company and that, obviously).
Ahh, you were missed. And there were free prawns and everything!
isn't htis how everyone feels most mornings? or do I drink too much?
Smat - that sounds like specious reasoning to me. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you don't drink enough?
Isn't booze fab, it just stimulates parts that just need stimulating sometimes. Agitates the old grey cells and keeps them alert and on guard???
Schütts nei in deinen Schädel.....hihihihi
Hmm, Konrad. You see, I thought I could speak German (I'm so deluded), but I have *no* idea what that means. I get the impression it's not good, though.
you had drinks with WTT and pashmina? snot fair! i want to meet some fellow bloggers IRL...
*sulks*
Hmm...we *could* have a little London Bloggers get-together. Might be fun. What say you?
ooooooh-eeeeee! yes!
*clasps hands together in schoolgirlish glee*
Post a Comment