Happy New Year, a little bit late perhaps, ringing slightly hollow in light of recent events, but heartfelt nonetheless - more or less. Yes, I'm on the return journey now - almost back in the smoke for another round of poisoning. I must admit, I've had more relaxing vacances...that's French you know - but my aches and pains are self induced, thoroughly deserved, and thankfull, receding.
Bucolic pleasures, over indulgence, and a reacquaintence with chemicals I'd almost forgotten existed have kicked 2005 off at a decent trot. Slightly odd, not listening to Big Ben chime midnight witht the nearest and dearest, Auld lang Syne, a little snog and the popping of corks, but there you are...Not much I could do about that. Disfunctionality is not a crime.
I've managed to resist the call to become a Conservative parliamentary candidate - it's a long story, but eventually decency prevailed. Still, I do have time for Boris, and I like a well cut suit...it's just the politics that leave a bit to be desired. Mind you, they do say that the older you get the further to the right you go...you're not likely to see me on the next Red Wedge tour either. If I'm going to do politics, I'll have to invent a party...and an idealogy, oh and I've always been a bit light on moral convictions as well. I did mention this to my political new years eve best pal, but was told that this was a very promising start.
Spent all of New Years Day in bed watching the rain, drifting in and out of sleep, thinking about how tiny and powerless we are against nature. Got up at five and watched a swedish film - not that sort, - about a socialist commune in the 1970's. We'd got halfway through before realising that we were only getting the first line of subtitles. It didn't hamper the enjoyment. We just though the Swedes were a bit taciturn.
Must do some gigs soon I think. Nothing for rejuvenating the spirits like a foray into the provinces. A spot of public humiliation and self flaggelation. l haven't played for at least a year, so it'll be odd. It's a very unnatural situation, playing funny little songs you scrawled on scraps of paper at inconvenient moments, to a room full of strangers. 'Full' of strangers if you're lucky that is.
I suppose I could try to emulate the Libertines and hold gigs at my house...no, that's out...or come to yours. As long as it's not an Alan Partridge scenario. If we can agree a price, I'll certainly think about it. I'll want feeding though.