Tuesday was a day of surprises, the day itself wasn't a shock but the events were quite surprising.
Sadly the editor I was supposed to be meeting cancelled on me because she hadn't been to bed the night before and was in pieces. This is a very honourable reason for cancelling, and she has promised to make it up to me so that is fine.
Now that I no-longer had to be sparkling with foppishness in my best waistcoat I changed into a pleasant but unassuming jumper and trotted off to work. This trotting took longer than planned because for some inexplicable reason I got on entirely the wrong bus and I ended up seeing parts of West London that I doubt any outsider has seen for thousands of years. After seeing dinosaurs and packs of proto-humans I managed to finally get on a bus going in vaguely the right direction and made it to Soho.
The office was it's usual fun place, although the main woman was a bit subdued because we are being sued for saying something that is true but the person who told it to us has disappeared. What makes it even more annoying is the person we said it about appeared on T.V. a few days ago and the presenter said even worse things in the same vein but that was okay because the presenter is a shouty chef.
Oh and my piece appeared in the newspaper but sadly the word Popinjay had been removed. On the plus side they had let me include a big plug for my next stand-up show but I shall miss Popinjay. Perhaps I'll get it in some other time.
After work I went with my colleague for a couple of cheeky cocktails at a members club on Shaftsbury Avenue. I had the vodka espresso and she dabbled with the lime Margareta, after those we saw off most of a bottle of champagne while plotting revenge on the person suing us and then came up with an idea for a travel show. Which reminds me I should be writing that right now.
Plinking with merriment after a good dose of nonsense and champers we spilled onto the street and went our separate ways. I decided that I would walk home from Soho as it was a good clear night and I wanted to get to know London again. The stroll was very pleasant. I took in Sloane Street and the King's Road which have both changed a great deal since Chelsea was my stomping ground and this time the walk home passed in a flash. Perhaps thanks to listening to the Mighty Boosh radio show.
When I got home I was still a little bit drunk but it was time for some more moving so I helped my flatmate unload more things from her car and then take the bins out.
Just before I lowered my head on the pillow I got two text messages out of the blue, both offering adventure and excitement.
1) H asked me if I wanted to go camping in the Arctic, sponsored by some car company
2) A Dominatrix I know, the only one I've ever got on with asked me rollerskating for her friends birthday tonight.
4 comments:
2008 is the year of the wheels, obviously.
Popinjay score:
Team America (fuc* yeah!): 4
Dandy Limeys: 0
But on reflection, points shouldn't be retroactive. So we're at ground zero, Louche. For simplicity, I say one point to any hack who works an absurd vocabulary word into print, whether it's popinjay, gold-bricker or my personal favorite: mucilaginous (what can I say? I was covering a seaweed-foraging workshop ?).
Then again, you could run off to the dominitrix roller derby, which would be MUCH more fun...
Ax
PS: I was sued by a three-storey troll statue once. I feel your pain... Truly, champers is the only balm.
PPS: Camp the Arctic. Really. Just go. You won't be sorry.
I reckon blogs shouldn't count in the Cheekorama competition. Commissioned outlets only, eh?
*picks up glove*
Okay Amanda, You are on.
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