19 July 2005

Latin Playboy / Stratford Roofer

I'm back in the land of the blogging. I have been slightly preoccupied in the land of the living, but now I'm safely back to share my pleasures and pains with you...whoever 'you' are.
To use a few songwriter cliches, life has had it's ups and downs, twists and turns, but I've ridden the punches, held my head up high and my sunburn is developping into a very nice shade of brown. I'd like to think that I resemble a latin playboy, but fear I could be a Stratford roofer. In the sedate privacy of an English Country garden, I threw caution to the wind, and became a 'proper' sun worshipper. Now I am blushing at both ends, and can't sit in one position for too long. Still, I feel very grown up, and unfettered by society's victorian morality. I won't be trying it at home of course, as the garden is overlooked, and I have no wish to be dragged up before the beak for indecent exposure...or emulating Germanic behaviour in a time of war.
I spent the weekend back at the Crass House, which before pun-dits beat me to the punch, is the least crass place you could ever imagine. Anyway, I've waxed lyrical about it before, so I won't go over old ground. Suffice to say, on a baking day, there are few places I'd rather be...Should anybody be curious as to where those few places might be, send a private message and a postal order for ten pounds.
On Thursday of last week, I took Ava to her nursery school summer party. Held in the grounds of a mansion in Stanmore - belonging to the grandparents of one particularly fortunate pupil. A swimming pool party with cakes and pop. Now as you know, I am a very progressively minded gentleman, but a gentleman none the less. What's more, the only gentleman attending... Think Lesley Phillips/Benny Hill sketches. Ladies...very many ladies. Of course, it's only me who thinks of Benny Hill in these situations. I was not chased around the lawn by bevvies of speeded up beauties to comedy music. The question I have to ask of course is why not? I'm forty, that's why not I suppose.
I prefer to think it was to do with having a pool filled with infants who might have drowned had their mothers spent all morning chasing me around the rhodedendrans. Anyway, beautiful morning, beautiful weather. What a bloody difference seven days makes.
As I drove home, the traffic came to a halt...not unusual in London, but as people poured from shops and offices into the streets, it became curiouser and curiouser. Then it clicked - three minutes silence in respect of the bomb victims. It was quite impressive. Everybody observed it. At the traffic junction the lights went from red to green many times. Nobody went. It was quite affecting. I was almost praaad te be a lardnunna.
Minor gig in the evening at The Vortex. Can't quite say I was a roaring success - even though i was...utter sobriety is not always a good thing when operating musical machinery. Still, a good rehearsal for next weeks 'Hainous' crimes.
One more thing. University Challenge is on next Monday. The 25th.
Pip Pip.

1 Comments:

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