New to the site? Delve into the archive Information about me List of collected quotations My poetry sites Other links: The ineffable Michelle Infinite Fish The Echelon Project The 80s (my era) Move to Mars See Ann Widdecombe dance Think I complain a lot? The Yarn |
Thursday 4.10.01 I know I promised to give some sort of account of what exactly happened on Monday evening, but I really can't be arsed, to tell the truth. To prune the agony down, I will give you the bare bones: I made a nipple out of myself by speaking in a Past-President's Debate while pissed. This was demonstrated quite conclusively while attempting to pour Michelle a glass of wine and just sloshed it over her notes instead. I then managed to drink what I had successfully got into her glass while she was speaking. Silly me... Monday 8.10.01 I really would like to leave reporting the sheer randomness weekend's events to Michelle, but she convinced me that really since it's my life I'm leading my blog I'm writing I should put something up about it. Fair enough. So Friday night I'm walking through Cambridge Circus, and I hear this voice shout something like 'What's your name?' Since there are any number of loons in London, I just hoped and presumed he was shouting as someone else and carried on. Then, this random Norwegian runs up to me and stops me, and says 'Excuse me, but my mate's just seen you and he really likes you. Do you want to come and meet him?' Given that he mate didn't have the balls to come and say it himself, and I was hungry, wanted to get home, and might have got raped if I'd gone with them, I very politely refused but said I was really flattered and ta ta for now. That was that. I come back from work on Saturday to find Natalie and Jenny cooking away, and get my stuff out to join them. Natalie lights the grill, and is about to put her corn-on-the-cob in there when we all notice a really rank smell coming from it. And smoke. And then flames. Natalie calmly lifts up a burning plastic chopping board, and asks what she should do with it. Jenny, not raising an eyebrow, wonders out loud if it might be a good idea to turn off the grill, given that it's going to turn us into human torches within a few seconds. And I just stand there thinking if it's really such a bad idea to put water on a burning electrical device. So much for quick reactions. Anyway, so I blow the board out (no smirks please), and by this time the grill has gone out by itself, so we all look at each other, rather relieved. Until we realise we are standing, breathing in plastic fumes, so we take all of our stuff out of the kitchen, clear out and put a notice on the door saying that it really might not be such a good idea to go in. And we left the gas on full in there. Luckily, someone sensible and sane came down, realised, and turned it off, so that was all OK and we sat there happily eating our supper, glad to remain uncremated. Jenny suddenly announced that there was a group going off ice-skating to Bayswater, and would I like to go. The voice of reason boomed out loud and clear in my head, pointing out that I had already risked death twice that evening (what with the plastic and then gas fumes still everywhere) and putting life and limb (especially limb) on the line, or the ice, was just pushing it, plus I had no money, plus I had work to do, plus I can't ice-skate very well. 'Yup, love to I said. Meet you in reception in ten minutes.' Ran upstairs to Michelle's room to convince her to come with us. I knew she would when I saw the cogs in her head turning in a similar way to mine: 'Now, I have a jurisprudence essay to do. Or I can go to an ice-disco. Obviously I know which I should.' I neglected to mention that we were walking there until she safely was out of the house, and a very nice walk it was too (Jenny and I also ended up walking back in the rain, getting very nearly lost and picked up by a dodgy cabbie.) Everyone down at Queensway was about 12 and there was the usual assortment of arseholes who zipped in and out of everyone and scared the crap of out you by stopping about four centimetres from you if you got in 'their' way, but other than that it was a pretty classic night. I think the memory of Michelle attempting to dance to Miss Elliot while on ice-skates is one which will remain with me for a long time to come... |
