ramble on
I'm SICK of people telling me my blog is sad… like unhappy sad. One moron even said 'you let them see you bleed'. I don't think it's sad, or that I am. It's an amazing way of venting steam, and also weird ambivalent ambiguous thoughts that often plague gifted beings like me. It is completely unfair and uncalled for to slot these pearls of nascent wisdom, these blatantly honest pieces of a life into mundane categories like happy/sad, funny/sad, cool/sad or hot/sad. It's really unimaginative to attempt these foolish categorisations. In future if any of you who read my blog find it 'sad', keep it to yourselves, and don't bug me.
:D
Anyway, am back at work after a lovely weekend. Made a new friend and prospective flatmate on Friday through Anu (who has started appearing rather regularly in posts (which pisses my first wife off to no end (She's coming for a visit this Thursday!!!))). Also polished off 3 big drinks at an expensive place in order to make this new friendship, delaying anxious thoughts of effects on pocket. I needn't have bothered, as anu's and prosp flatmate's boss picked up the entire table's tab. I did make a feeble attempt at getting a separate bill, but happily didn't need to carry this through as one of the other bosses at the table had been regaling me with stories of Cockney life and times (very interesting, really) and I was already part of the gang. Hya hah. Did you know you're a Cockney only if you were born within the sound of the Bow Bells? And don't even get me started on the varieties of Rhyming Slang, which subversive language movement started out as a bid to put distance between themselves and the upper classes among the residents of the East end, and then took on a life of its own. We talked about origins of phrases (freeze the balls off the brass monkey), pub-crawl routes ensuring 24 hour drinking, and the old markets. I was getting a cultural education, in fact, from the sweet boodha.
Consequently I was hungover on Saturday, and almost didn't make it to a lunch date on Kingsland Road, at the starting point of a meander down Regents Canal. The meander, all the way down to Limehouse, was absolutely marvellous. It was charmed, even. The weather was gorgeous, we saw all manner of old spooky ivy covered waterside buildings, bitched about spandy new developments, which MUST have been very exploitative regeneration projects, and then witnessed two canalboats navigating a lock! Have you ever seen it? It's so cool.. first the boat/s come and dock in the little gated area in the canal between the first and second sluice gate. Then the first gate is closed, and water pumped into the lock so that the boats rise to the level of the next section of canal. Then the second gate is opened and the boats simply pass onward. Locks are engineering marvels! And this wasn't even the crowning glory of the afternoon. Anne found a pair of Diesel branded (probably fake) sunglasses in a ... garbage bin, bless her soul. She promptly pocketed them, much to my utter disgust. But at the end of the walk, at Limehouse Cut, at Gordon Ramsay's pub facing the Thames - The Narrow - poor Anne found her head was too narrow for the garbage glasses. By now she had washed and steamed them in the pub's loo, so I consented to try them on. Voila! We were made for each other, the garbage glasses and me, and now they rest in by bag, waiting for a dazzling day when I dazzle the populace with my new beetle eyes. By the way, The Narrow kind of perches on a high embankment of the river, so that patrons can dangle their feet over the water yards and yards below. The access path to this precipice is rather, um, narrow, so be careful, especially if you intend to drink more than a couple of pints.
After this glorious urban exploration, our tribe parted ways, each to attend a different evening event. Mine was in w10, an all day all night barbecue thing, with much food and much wine, but dull dull company. So I DLRed, Tubed, ate, drank Sangria, and left to curl up on flatmate-landlord's grandmother's lovely couch.
The couch cuddling continued all through Sunday. Even the usual Sunday café brunch was in a takeaway avatar, as I read bits of harry potter books, trivia and fansites to prepare for the big pottery week ahead. Order of the Phoenix was at ngiht at Angel Vue. I was late as usual, but missed none of the movie, which was unusually good for an HP screen adaptation I thought. But I was outnumbered. My companions, none of whom are Potter scholars like me, had forgotten the book, and lost the plot, quite literally. Pshaw, Ron's darn hot anyway.
Which brings us to today, Monday. Monday is actually a good day at work. My bosses are all away every Monday, and I can intersperse work with blogging, chatting and emailing, which is frankly the most productive way to work I find. Later this week, inky ji will descend on LunDunn, and we shall be even more merry all around!
Until next time then…
:D
Anyway, am back at work after a lovely weekend. Made a new friend and prospective flatmate on Friday through Anu (who has started appearing rather regularly in posts (which pisses my first wife off to no end (She's coming for a visit this Thursday!!!))). Also polished off 3 big drinks at an expensive place in order to make this new friendship, delaying anxious thoughts of effects on pocket. I needn't have bothered, as anu's and prosp flatmate's boss picked up the entire table's tab. I did make a feeble attempt at getting a separate bill, but happily didn't need to carry this through as one of the other bosses at the table had been regaling me with stories of Cockney life and times (very interesting, really) and I was already part of the gang. Hya hah. Did you know you're a Cockney only if you were born within the sound of the Bow Bells? And don't even get me started on the varieties of Rhyming Slang, which subversive language movement started out as a bid to put distance between themselves and the upper classes among the residents of the East end, and then took on a life of its own. We talked about origins of phrases (freeze the balls off the brass monkey), pub-crawl routes ensuring 24 hour drinking, and the old markets. I was getting a cultural education, in fact, from the sweet boodha.
Consequently I was hungover on Saturday, and almost didn't make it to a lunch date on Kingsland Road, at the starting point of a meander down Regents Canal. The meander, all the way down to Limehouse, was absolutely marvellous. It was charmed, even. The weather was gorgeous, we saw all manner of old spooky ivy covered waterside buildings, bitched about spandy new developments, which MUST have been very exploitative regeneration projects, and then witnessed two canalboats navigating a lock! Have you ever seen it? It's so cool.. first the boat/s come and dock in the little gated area in the canal between the first and second sluice gate. Then the first gate is closed, and water pumped into the lock so that the boats rise to the level of the next section of canal. Then the second gate is opened and the boats simply pass onward. Locks are engineering marvels! And this wasn't even the crowning glory of the afternoon. Anne found a pair of Diesel branded (probably fake) sunglasses in a ... garbage bin, bless her soul. She promptly pocketed them, much to my utter disgust. But at the end of the walk, at Limehouse Cut, at Gordon Ramsay's pub facing the Thames - The Narrow - poor Anne found her head was too narrow for the garbage glasses. By now she had washed and steamed them in the pub's loo, so I consented to try them on. Voila! We were made for each other, the garbage glasses and me, and now they rest in by bag, waiting for a dazzling day when I dazzle the populace with my new beetle eyes. By the way, The Narrow kind of perches on a high embankment of the river, so that patrons can dangle their feet over the water yards and yards below. The access path to this precipice is rather, um, narrow, so be careful, especially if you intend to drink more than a couple of pints.
After this glorious urban exploration, our tribe parted ways, each to attend a different evening event. Mine was in w10, an all day all night barbecue thing, with much food and much wine, but dull dull company. So I DLRed, Tubed, ate, drank Sangria, and left to curl up on flatmate-landlord's grandmother's lovely couch.
The couch cuddling continued all through Sunday. Even the usual Sunday café brunch was in a takeaway avatar, as I read bits of harry potter books, trivia and fansites to prepare for the big pottery week ahead. Order of the Phoenix was at ngiht at Angel Vue. I was late as usual, but missed none of the movie, which was unusually good for an HP screen adaptation I thought. But I was outnumbered. My companions, none of whom are Potter scholars like me, had forgotten the book, and lost the plot, quite literally. Pshaw, Ron's darn hot anyway.
Which brings us to today, Monday. Monday is actually a good day at work. My bosses are all away every Monday, and I can intersperse work with blogging, chatting and emailing, which is frankly the most productive way to work I find. Later this week, inky ji will descend on LunDunn, and we shall be even more merry all around!
Until next time then…
Comments
but quite funny