Contrary to popular opinion, I've not spent the last several months on a distant planet, but have been here (a PDF), (Which is here according to Streetmap) learning Things About Unix (That's Proper Gentleman's Unix, rather than any of that shoddy Cheap Finnish Imitation malarkey) for the week. And jolly interesting it was too, even the bits involving no electricity, David Lynch and having to piddle by the light of a mobile phone.
Surprisingly (for some) I elected to turn right instead of left when I returned to the M4 on the Friday, and soon (Rocket-fired Saab provided splendid entertainment in harassing wankerish BMWs, wankerish Golfs and anything else with a suit-jacket hanging in the rear passenger door. 'Cars that have done 160k aren't supposed to go like this!' opined Steve-who-I-gave-a-lift-to) found myself parked in Church Road, N6.
[Stress-levels: Parkinised]
My original plan was to sit in the Jackson's Lane Community-thing and slurp tea and read the Guardian 'til timmie & Juliann rang me to say they were fit to receive visitors. This failed on several counts. The first being the experimental music shop opposite Highgate tube that was filled with odd CDs and a Zazz. We repaired to the community-thing to discover that there was no cafe and no mobile signal. Annoyance. Thus there was gibbering and arm-waving instead. Eventually, we were driven from the place by squads of excitable children and were wondering what to do next when I was hailed by a timmie, who'd emerged from his domicile at exactly the same time. Hurrah for bizarre coincidences travelling in a collective and bus-like manner!
[Stress-levels: Globular]
There was a brief attack of wandering, where we discovered that Italians seem to like eating sliced alien limbs in a cream sauce, and that you can buy sporting codpieces with a skull & crossbones emblazoned thereupon. I trust that there'll be a mob of people at the next B-Movie wearing same and getting down and funky to 'Word up'...
[ Stress-levels: Bristol Brabazon]
At that point, Zazz had to go off and get drunk with the young and trendy, so the rest of us went for a nice sit down and mithered about joints and ailments for some time. Which was nice.
The last time (actually, the second-last time, but we don't talk about the last time) I pitched up within the M25, there was Dissent in the ranks that could largely be answered by "Which part of 'fuck you, I've got my own shit to deal with' do you have most of a problem with?"
Accordingly, and in a spirit of arrogance, bloody-mindedness and the scabrous thing-that-passes-for-humour for which I am vaguely well-known in six or eight otherwise pleasant public houses, I give you...
[Poll #231250]
[ NB: Anyone taking this seriously needs to (a) check their ego at the door, (b) sit quietly and listen to 'You're so vain' by Carly Simon (which is the LJ theme-song, as any fule kno) or (c) get over themselves. And perhaps engage me in conversation sometime, rather than making assumptions.]
However, the entire endeavour bodes middling-well for the future. Maybe.
Surprisingly (for some) I elected to turn right instead of left when I returned to the M4 on the Friday, and soon (Rocket-fired Saab provided splendid entertainment in harassing wankerish BMWs, wankerish Golfs and anything else with a suit-jacket hanging in the rear passenger door. 'Cars that have done 160k aren't supposed to go like this!' opined Steve-who-I-gave-a-lift-to) found myself parked in Church Road, N6.
[Stress-levels: Parkinised]
My original plan was to sit in the Jackson's Lane Community-thing and slurp tea and read the Guardian 'til timmie & Juliann rang me to say they were fit to receive visitors. This failed on several counts. The first being the experimental music shop opposite Highgate tube that was filled with odd CDs and a Zazz. We repaired to the community-thing to discover that there was no cafe and no mobile signal. Annoyance. Thus there was gibbering and arm-waving instead. Eventually, we were driven from the place by squads of excitable children and were wondering what to do next when I was hailed by a timmie, who'd emerged from his domicile at exactly the same time. Hurrah for bizarre coincidences travelling in a collective and bus-like manner!
[Stress-levels: Globular]
There was a brief attack of wandering, where we discovered that Italians seem to like eating sliced alien limbs in a cream sauce, and that you can buy sporting codpieces with a skull & crossbones emblazoned thereupon. I trust that there'll be a mob of people at the next B-Movie wearing same and getting down and funky to 'Word up'...
[ Stress-levels: Bristol Brabazon]
At that point, Zazz had to go off and get drunk with the young and trendy, so the rest of us went for a nice sit down and mithered about joints and ailments for some time. Which was nice.
The last time (actually, the second-last time, but we don't talk about the last time) I pitched up within the M25, there was Dissent in the ranks that could largely be answered by "Which part of 'fuck you, I've got my own shit to deal with' do you have most of a problem with?"
Accordingly, and in a spirit of arrogance, bloody-mindedness and the scabrous thing-that-passes-for-humour for which I am vaguely well-known in six or eight otherwise pleasant public houses, I give you...
[Poll #231250]
[ NB: Anyone taking this seriously needs to (a) check their ego at the door, (b) sit quietly and listen to 'You're so vain' by Carly Simon (which is the LJ theme-song, as any fule kno) or (c) get over themselves. And perhaps engage me in conversation sometime, rather than making assumptions.]
However, the entire endeavour bodes middling-well for the future. Maybe.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 11:17 am (UTC)Excellent news. :)
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Date: 2004-01-10 11:21 am (UTC)Oh, I do like that.
But do feel free to gi's a call next you find yourself accidentally quantum tunnelling the M25 Force Field. There are pints to seek and destroy.
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Date: 2004-01-10 11:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 12:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 12:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 12:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 02:42 pm (UTC)That shop is an awful place and looks like it can hoover out my wallet even from a distance.
no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 03:09 pm (UTC)answered poll but...
Date: 2004-01-10 04:02 pm (UTC)Hope you had fun in london and the stress monster didn't getcha
no subject
Date: 2004-01-10 04:06 pm (UTC)[0] (for jh) New beat, even thougfh its, what? 15 years old. Does that make it old beat?
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Date: 2004-01-10 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-11 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-11 03:23 am (UTC)I found myself driving through Hendon (came down the A1 to avoid ver norf cir'lar) and musing quietly upon Betjeman and Metroland, as one does when in that neck of the woods. (Earlier, I'd nearly decided to beetle off in the other direction and seek out Verney Junction when passing signs for Aylesbury and Amersham. Next time. Yes.)
Then I looked harder at the rows of tired thirties mock-tudor gone mottled with grime and age (Driving up through the back of Golder's Green is handy for that sort of thing) and thought harder: "Y'know. I don't miss any of this at all..."
Still, I go see A Woman about the state of my head tomorrow, so I may well get some extra choice back, other than 'terror' or 'not terror'...
no subject
Date: 2004-01-11 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-12 06:31 pm (UTC)i will let you know what i think when i've listened to it though! :)