Sunday

...and there was light.

well it's been a lovely few days since i handed the work in. thursday night, obviously i slept (since wednesday had been a literal all-nighter), right up until quarter to ten on friday morning when i sprang up in bed to read the time; desert island discs with cocker had just finished. i successfully pissed away friday, the first official day off for weeks, made a cd for ed, and wandered off to croydon toulouse my kefranskerginity.





i am now a cunt at a gig with a phone.

ed's got a lot of bottle.
hanging out back stage was great, me the real hanger-on, filming twenty minutes of conversation, passing myself off as a musician and feeling like a dad; there were kids, performing on stage, vintage 1988, who had never heard of the sea horses.
a falafel burger and the usual thameslink narcoleprosey later, i got to bed at half five. it had been an excellent night, it was thoughroughly brilliant to see those folk again, and i am grateful that i can call them my friends.

some time later, i woke up and we did town. i was in dire need of an irn bru, which just so happened to be on special offer at the co-op, 2 large bottles for 1 pound, 79! now that is blogworthy.
that night was fletcher's birthday party, at which i was paid an enourmous compliment of being "intriguing" to someone. we danced around the living room and carefully burnt two small holes in the twin towers poster. bed at five.

may day has been delightful, watching celebrations in queen's park and agonising over how many 'x's to leave on text messages. we went up by the race course and felt like giants, and nearly stood on a tiny bird's nest. there was only one way to end the day: pizza and post-manga.
after watching casshern, it's now way gone midnight again. tomorrow sees me getting to work for the exams, and tuesday is my presentation. my tutor is not the kind of person to balk at saying, to face, like an unsatisfied customer of mr. tourettes, "this, is fucking shit." lets hope he has no need to.
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