I used to be quite good at chess. In fact, I used to rate myself based on my canny knack of levelling legions of pawns and knights and usurping the monarchy. So good I considered myself to be that it gave way to boasting last week, I boasted in front of IC and her flatmate Mary, I opened and shut my cavernous gob and words of triumph and victory came out, I even smirked. A match was arranged and after arising on Sunday, battle commenced. After 5 games I finally won one at about 10 pm, and I reckon that was only because IC was a bit pissed and, frankly, let me win after ‘confusing’ the rook with what she referred to as the ‘diagonal man.’
This massive humiliation at the hands of my friend did nothing to upset what was a marvellous weekend. It began like it does so often with a tube journey following a day at the fucking coalface. I arrived at Hackney later than planned due to buses being shit and after settling in IC and I ate and prepared or the club type thing.
At 10-ish we met up with Paul and took the bus to Shoreditch. Mary was already there as she had a guest spot as DJ. I may have already explained that this clubbing business is something relatively new, I used to frequent a psychedelic club decades ago but since then it’s only lately I’ve been doing this sort of thing. The music played at this venue lies on the boundaries of my taste, it’s electronic (guitar free) but is still delightfully heavy. Mary, though, plays stuff that I rather like, largely German and fairly nasty (a sample will appear following this drivel). The venue itself is quite friendly and having been a few times I know a few faces to talk at, the drinks are reasonable and it’s free to get in. I suppose I’m trying to convey to my reader that I’m not a Shoreditch twat and if you were to see my attempts at busting a move on the dance floor this would become overtly apparent.
Time passed by quickly, drinks appeared left right and centre and Mary played a jolly good set. We hung around for a while after she’d finished but IC and I were shattered so we toddled off home following a freezing wait for the bus.
Saturday I made scrambled egg and smoked salmon for brunch after a short visit to the shops, in hindsight I can barely recall undertaking the task which suggests I may have still been enjoying Fridays drinks. Mid afternoon and feeling much more lively IC and I travelled back to Tooting. Before arriving home we did a spot of shopping and had a serendipitous encounter in a flea market that felt all foreign and exciting. We watched a movie and at 8 were out on the street heading for a sushi place near Balham sensibly punctuating the journey with a sharpener which was fortunate because we wound up walking the whole way there and it was fucking cold (again).
The restaurant was empty, in fact, for most of the evening we were alone with the pedantic staff. The food was fantastic but let down somewhat by discovering a small amount of fucking plastic in the California Rolls. IC has had experience in the restaurant business and suggested I deal with the matter without being a berk (i.e., refusing to pay and doing toilet all over the manager) besides the rest of the fare was so good we’ve every intention of returning. Hey, we all make mistakes, yeah.
We got back and continued nattering with some music and wine, so engaged were we that we didn’t actually go to bed until about 5… actually, that’s why my chess playing was so dreadful, it’s because I was ill. Yes, ill.
Oh good, it’s cunting Monday. It’s fucking cold.
Right, today’s offing, awful video and the fact the lead singer looks like a young homosexual Charlie Brooker doesn’t help much either.