I’ve stuffed my bloody face with motorsport over the weekend. I gorged on engines, tyres and crash helmets like they’re made out of really fucking nice cheese, or barbequed mackerel. Speaking of which, I had some barbequed mackerel yesterday in the afternoon, outside in the burning sun, but enough of that, lets go back to Friday and the pissing rain…
It pissed with rain on Friday, the day in the office was another complete waste of time (I think I might start a new career in wanking for coins) and I arrived home a little dejected from the day but wholly delighted by the prospect of not having to sit in that fucking office chair for at least 50 hours.
I was out of the flat almost as soon as I’d got in, off to Waterloo to meet IC and then to the South Bank to hook up with Den and his family. They’re moving orf out of London and we decided it would be nice to have a few cheerio-for-now drinkies. We were joined by Alice, Myfwt and her gentleman caller and we happily sipped wines and wotnot and caught up. IC and I were off before 10pm and home to sushi and fine wines in front of the last Peep Show and Big Brother. I think.
IC was off early the following morning as her sister was flying in from NYC. I stayed in bed until I was bored and got up to a pleasantly bright and sunny Saturday. After a trip to buy a newspaper I took breakfast, did some more on my design and played Scarface until I was given notice of the evening’s plans. I briefly met with Gee in the local to exchange money and tickets for an upcoming gig and quaff an ale before setting off again on the tube. It was hefty journey from sarf London to the East, the tubes were being cunts and the bus took and age to wind itself through the bustling late afternoon streets. I arrived late but was in plenty of time to wander down to a Vietnamese eatery with IC, her sister, Paul and Molly in the early evening.
Said restaurant is located in a converted public toilet. Despite the dubious venue it is studded with awards and the place was packed to the gills with locals, more importantly, Vietnamese locals, and we sat down to eat. The food was fucking wonderful. I ate strips of beef in a sizzling sauce with rice and vegetables after a starter of squid and spicy prawns and I happy dipped into the plates of my dining companions until I was sated. After settling the ludicrously reasonable bill we five popped out to a bar to round the evening off before bidding my friends farewell and reversing the bus and tube journeys and arriving home shortly before 1 am.
By the time I got out of my pit on Sunday the TT highlights had just started. I made breakfast with one eye on the TV in the kitchen –fucking heroes every last man jack of them, and then, joy of joys, the Moto GP from Spain was started, it was a fantastic race with a great result for all concerned…following this I once again I found myself on the flaming tube heading back up East.
It was 4pm when IC, her sister and I arrived at Paul’s place. Molly was already there and I was introduced to some new faces and thus began a perfectly lovely Sunday afternoon. Not having a garden I can’t remember the last time I’d been to a barbeque, frankly I usually find the combination of cremated/raw meat a little dull, not to mention dangerous but this wasn’t even comparable. In addition to the aforementioned mackerel there was squid, sausages and chicken (properly cooked) tomato salad, baked sweet potato, bread and sauces… it was a perfectly warm afternoon, the beer slipped down gently and I thoroughly enjoyed the company I was keeping. It also dawned on me that I’d made a complete cock up of buying a flat in South London.
Oh, I saw the F1 when I got home following another fucking stint on bus and tube and dying to take a tinkle all the way home… naughty Lewis, what were you thinking?