I say Top Hat old bean

Yet another surprising turn. I'm going up to London this week, tickets have been booked (by the people who want me in London) looks are being compiled and plans are being formulated. I'm really rather looking forward to it, which is strange, but perhaps Wales can have that effect on a chap.

I've been doing a bit of the ol' soul searching over the past week, mostly about if I should keep this blog chugging away, it's been good to me and so I should probably continue it, plus it's where I can write absolute piffle and that shouldn't be underestimated.

Every piffle has it's place.

Unexpected Tuesday, operation popinjay and rollerskating with dominatrixes

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.

It's a new dawn of a new day...

Today feels a bit like spring. It's still jolly cold but the light has a lovely clean quality of the sort that makes artist go all weak at the knees and other chaps go and check their picnic gear to see if it is still in working order.

I tend to picnic a bit too soon in the season because I get so excited by the prospect of eating outside, so when the proper picnic weather arrives I've had enough and I'll do anything to avoid a glass of Pimms and a cucumber sandwich. Perhaps this year I'll learn to pace myself.

A plan has already been formulated for a picnic with my flatmate. it will be 'jolly spiffing' the likes of which hasn't been seen since Gatsby was last spotted hosting a bash on the West Egg. Boaters or Trilbies will be a requirement for chaps, ladies must have a parasol. I just hope that is enough of a temptation to lure people south of the river.

I've got a pleasantly busy day ahead of me. I'll spend my usual morning in the library frowning but in the afternoon I'm going to go into one of the places I work in Soho. I've not been in for what seems like an age so this will be very pleasant to catch up on the nonsense going on.

The evening will be absorbed by meeting up with the editor who gives me most of my work. So I need to be on my best behavior. Actually not just my best behavior but the sort of behavior that says 'You should get a regular column talking about shoes and girls as well as your usual nonsense.'

Speaking of nonsense this afternoon I'll find out if I managed to get the phrase 'feckless popinjay' into the paper or not. If I have succeeded my next challenge will be to get embonpoint into print.

Naughty...

I had a feature appear last week, I was learning to be a cowboy for a day. I wrote this feature a while ago but it only just appeared.

It has been pointed out to me by a couple of people that I managed to use the word naughty in the feature five times (and sneak it past the editor) which considering it's only a couple of pages long is pretty good going.

And you know what I'm rather proud of it, it strikes me as rather well, naughty.

This week I'm trying to get the word popinjay into a newspaper but who knows if it will sneak past the editor and sub-editors.