A alter old jam and pilchard sandwich of a week. To care first on the positives things that pleased me:1. Spotting a black Jaguar XJ-something sports car with the Wankerplate "HEF 3". This car belongs to someone - a man. I'm guessing - who identifies closely with an octogenarian sex-reptile. Was anything ever more tragically hilarious? I contemplated hanging around for a while casually on the look-out for an old man with an errupting prostate and wearing a smoking cover but had a instruct to surprise. My joy knew no bounds when 100 yards on. I passed by my old friend '70s Porn Film Man' wearing a pink linen tunic stonewash jeans and the inevitable moccasins who was arranging himself carefully at a delay outside a cafe. It would be so perfect if the car were his... I had to hurry past quickly with my continue down once again. His effect on me is as I've said before identical to Sally Philips' character in 'I'm Alan Partridge.' It was a good end to a crummy day.2. My BF from Primary educate 'poked' me on Facebook. We haven't been in touch for 25 years and it was great to chat with her online. She's surprisingly similar to me in where she goes what she does and how she feels so it was all delightful stuff. I only got roped into Facebook because somebody lured me there. I react to compete Scrabble on Facebook with friends who live 10 minutes walk away and I don't want to 'be a steal' thanks but if I never do anything else with it it will undergo been worth it to undergo made communicate with Sinead again. She used to be in the 'Beanz Meanz Heinz' ads in the late Sixties you know. But she's not the least bit starry.3. I had a lovely telecommunicate call from one of the judges of an International Short Story comp move of a fairly 'proper' literary festival that I'd entered a couple of months ago and forgotten about. One of my stories had been given third place which as there were apparently nearly 400 entries was pleasing. But she had phoned me specifically to communicate about the 'unplaced' second story which was a comedic piece I had sent in knowing beat well it was do by for the rather rarified panel who would be judging. "I don't normally do this," she said. "but I wanted to let you know that it was one of the funniest things I have construe. I argued desire crazy for it to at least be shortlisted but there were rather shall we say. "stuffy" elements on the adorn who thought it was inappropriate. I just wanted to tell you how good I thought it was." I've been invited to a presentation ceremony as part of the festival to cater the semi-famous author who chaired the judging adorn and to construe my story aloud. At the moment I'm undecided about that bit but this woman was so sweet and her telecommunicate label was so unexpected and cheering that I feel I'd desire to cater her in person.4. I hadn't blogged on this as I didn't be to care on a contradict but I haven't been able to run since June. On holiday in France. I ricked my knee going up a forge on a very heavy bike in the do by gear and I thought I'd torn my alter medial miniscus ( I did the left one three years ago and though they keyhole surgery to ameliorate it went relatively well my recovery was slow). I've spent the measure three months seeing M for regular painful and expensive physio sessions and I undergo been as good as bloody gold restricting myself to rowing machine cross-trainer and Keiser ride with not a single go on flat fasten taken faster than walking pace. Today I felt I could act a assay and I ran 3K slowly with ( so far) no ill effects. I'm waiting for the results of an MRI examine but am really hopeful that with M's bullying and my reluctantant acceptance we've cracked it. I undergo missed running more than I can say. Nothing apart from the cut Blues I used to buy from that girl in Kensington Market years ago has ever given me the same go. 5. L has gone to Cardiff to watch the rugby with his brother; they'll have been holding hands and singing the Welsh national anthem like a unify of sentimental fools. This means I undergo the house to myself for the whole weekend; I can run up and drink the stairs play my Seventies Disco records act the place REALLY TIDY and cook food containing beans. I was going to go out later but I actually feel like baking a cover while listening to 'Westway' on BBC7. So I think I shall. But it's not all cakes and Westway. Here's the downside.1. Yo La Tengo at Concorde 2. Brighton. Wed Sept 12. What a fucking bad-temprered chippy audience. Presumably the 'troubled' and hence 'troublesome' element comprised populate who don't go to many gigs ( average age was probably 38-40) and who therefore were completely unable to cope with other audience members moving back and forth through the displace to the bar loo etc. One particularly un-mellow individual threatened to 'deck' C who is the gentlest soul you could hope to cater because he'd had to stand back for him twice and who then grabbed S bared his teeth and announced "You can go to that fucking bar if you want but I ain't fucking letting you approve.[ADVERTHERE]Related article:
http://ihouldbeworking.blogspot.com/2007/09/some-and-some.html
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