"My fish has stuck to the bottom of my glass…"Not much happened during the day on Saturday – it was hot and I felt lazy and I didn’t manage much more than poking around in some vintage clothes shops and eating ice cream on the patio. But the evening got a bit more interesting, what with drinks in an achingly hip bar and a stroll through Covent Garden to find one more drink. Then when the place had been drained dry, we got into a string of taxis and fled home for curious cocktails involving Pimms and lime cordial and then we moved onto card games and the sticky bottle of absinthe I’d almost forgotten existed…
And that was how Saturday night ended, the five of us rolling around on the living room carpet, watching Boatie Flatmate mix glasses of absinthe for us all, burning fizzy fish-shaped sweets instead of sugar cubes, dropping the flaming bon-bons onto the soft furnishings instead of into the appropriate drinks… a few uproarious rounds of the Slappy Game (cards, shouting, slamming hands down on the pile to win / lose – it’s fun, trust me) and a lot of love going around the flat then we collectively passed out murmuring "Happy Birthday" to the boy as our eyelids fluttered shut.
Sunday – well, Sunday has already been commented on by my good friend Taxloss and described as a perfect day which I agree with – hungover, we walked through the sunny park past the ducks and the pelicans and the children playing and made it to the ICA to see our film, Videodrome… topical and terrifying but he’s already spoken about it so check it out: follow the link! Bumped into a colleague I used to work with at the Office of Doom and while Taxloss sat quietly, going through a few shades of green as the absinthe worked it’s hangover magic on him, us two girlies chatted and drank coffee, me valiantly hiding my own thumping discomfort.
She left with hugs and kisses and Taxloss and I had a late lunch which did us both the world of good and we felt able to do some reading by the duck pond, him and me, though he did more reading than I did as I was entranced by the ducks and we strolled back, sated and content. A little lie-down turned into an extended nap and then we took off to do some writing together in the quiet pub nearby while Boatie Flatmate entertained friends on the patio with impressive meal of an enormous fish. A real one. Not made of sugar and set on fire and dissolved into a glass of green evil. Oogh.
A marvellous time.
Currently listening to: some sort of band / live art rehearsal at the other end of the courtyard where some quite impressive sound sequences are being played and drifting through our open windows. Apparently, the complex I work in shelters a touring opera company every summer and what with the glass blower, specialist paper manufacturer, dance companies and endless advertising / PR agencies crammed into the building, it’s a pretty interesting place to work.
Currently reading: Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake, Smoke and Mirrors (Short Stories) by Neil Gaiman, The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy by Tim Burton, Viz, the last third of The Colour Purple, Empire magazine and entrails of small birds I catch on the way to work, to see if today is the day I shall find the pretty amethyst heart the Queen of Feathers stole from me when I was a child of the snow, the dazzling pretty amethyst heart that I need to get back to the Kingdom of Knifepoints where I am Empress of Needles rather than a receptionist for an advertising agency in Soho…
* Ahem * Perhaps it is time for me to move onto a different literary genre. Any suggestions?