Ingerlund

Okay – due to popular request – the shiner revisited… coming home from a gig, tired and a wee drunk – got off the bus (at the wrong stop, it turns out) – and as I was walking down the street, four guys run past me towards the bus – and one guy punches me in the chest as he runs past.  I stop, kinda shocked into paralysis – then I have the sudden thought (I remember thinking the actual words) – “Nah, I’m not having this”.  So – I gave chase – and as the guys were hopping onto a bus, I harangue the guy.  His mates then all turn around, get off the bus, and confront me.  One of the guys especially was particularly enthusiastic in protecting his mate.  A couple of times I was turning away, and ready to walk away – when he’d say something and I’d remember “No – I’m in the right here, these guys need to be told they can’t get away with that kind of shit”.  The last time, as I was really about to walk away – one guy hit me, then another guy.  I think that only two of them hit me – neither of them the original guy.  They then all got on a bus which had just pulled up, and off they went on their way.  While I suddenly realised I wasn’t where I thought I was – and didn’t know how to get home, with a rather bloody face.  But, as I mentioned last week, I called Ben to keep me talking until I got a taxi home.  The next morning was when the doubts set in.  Did they guy really punch me?  Was it just an accidental elbow as he ran past?  Was it just a swinging bag?  Did he even know what the hell I was talking about when I accosted him?  To him and his mates – was I the bad guy?  In any case – it was downright rude of them to hit me, and very nearly get blood all over my new jacket.  And all’s well ended well – the eye is all healed now, except for the scar which is bigger than I thought – I probably should have got stitches (but going to a London hospital on a Friday night… nah, don’t think so).

Anyway – now with that out of the way… last week’s quartet of gigs.  Wednesday night – the Low Anthem.  This was at the Roundhouse, so I was able to make use of my membership, and watch it all civilised-like – sitting at my own little barstool & table – with a candle on the table, drinking red wine, and reading my book during the gaps between acts.  The first act was William Elliott Whitmore – who I think supported some other gig I attended recently?  Dunno – but pretty good.  Very good, in fact, for the first act in a 3-act line-up.  Next up – Simone Felice… and it turns out that yes, he is related to the Felice Brothers (who I’m looking forward to very much) – and used to be a member of the band.  But is now doing his solo thing – and doing it pretty well.  And finally – the headliners – the Low Anthem themselves.  A simple but very good gig, plenty of chit-chat, displays of musical talent by using various and odd instruments, etc.  And a great encore with a Leonard Cohen cover, including a whole heap of crowd interaction.  Oh – and for one of their songs, they ask the crowd to put their cellphones on speaker, and then hold them together with somebody else’s.  Sounds very gimmicky – but it really does produce an odd sound throughout the venue – which they use as the background for a particular song.  Works a lot better than I would have expected.  And – I just found this video – which shows the clearly named “Members Bar” – although I am hidden directly behind the pretty lady for most of the song (I’m pretty sure that’s me revealed for a couple of seconds at around the 2:52 mark).

Thursday night – off to hang out with the students at the University of London Union (ULU) – to see the Dum Dum Girls.  And typical students – disorganised and what-not – the doors didn’t open until over half an hour after the scheduled time.  A fairly short set for the warm-up act Veronica Falls – and then the main show.  The crowd a strange mixture of mostly very very young students, with a scatterring of old gig-goers – who all look just that much sadder when surrounded by so much youth.  And I can only guess at where I stand in that spectrum.  Anyway – the gig… pretty good.  Nice cheerful indie-pop, smiles, quirky sunshine and what-not.  Flowers presented to somebody for some reason – just married?  Baby on the way, or recently had?  I don’t know – wasn’t really listening.  And an acceptable cover of the Smiths.

Friday night – off to the Jazz Cafe, for the unpronouncable Me’shell Ndegeocello.  No support act – as gigs at the Jazz Cafe tend to just be the one act, and then it switches over to “club mode”.  So – I camped out against a wall, reading my book, until Me’shell took the stage.  And I’ve been asked to make more mention of these books I am supposedly reading – and in this case, it was rather apt – as I finished Half Blood Blues – by Esi Edugyan – while waiting.  Half Blood Blues was rather good – but very similar to other Man Booker Prize shortlisted novels this year, in that it took me quite some time to start enjoying it, and very similar “multiple revelations throught changing who you think is in the right/wrong”.  Which isn’t a bad thing – just noting t that three out of the four finalists I’ve read so far have had similar styles/themes.  Anyway – yeah, good.  But you gotta assume that when some experts judged it to be one of the top 6 books written by a Commonwealth citizen in the last year – it’s a safe bet it’ll be alright.  Aptness – it’s about some jazz musicians.  And I was in a jazz bar, about to listen to a musician.  So back to Me’shell Ndegeocello who gained kudos when she early on asked everybody to just leave their phones in their pocket, turned off, or whatever – and just touch each other and enjoy the music.  (So the videos I’ve linked to are from a previous gig, at the same venue).  It’s a shame she hadn’t asked certain people to simply just stop talking so loud also.  Good gig – amazing voice, beautiful music, and a (mostly) very appreciative audience – listening with a reverent hush.  Talented woman.  With a new album!

Saturday.  Spent the afternoon watching the last 3 ‘Arry Potter movies – barely leaving enough time to rush off to the Hammersmith Apollo… for Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits), and Bob Dylan.  Got there bang on time to catch Mark Knopfler come on stage – with my ticket in my pocket, where it should be.  Unfortunately, my pocket wouldn’t open.  My nice new Icebreaker coat – with zip-up pockets – had decided it wouldn’t let me unzip the pocket I had safely stored my ticket in.  I spent ten minutes trying to coax it open, trying to force it open, swearing at it, and probably generally just making things worse.  The inner lining had been caught up in the zipper – and to such an extent, it is now really really stuck.  I eventually managed to curl the ticket into a tube, and slip it out the 1 cm opening the zip allowed.  Rushed in, and got myself a dose of some classic ’80s guitar pop-rock – including a couple of classics.  And then his Bob-ness.  It is apparently a lottery nowadays – good Bob or bad Bob.  I refrained from buying merch until I thought “yeah, this gig is worth it”.  And yeah – it was.  Sure, his voice (never exactly a gem) struggled at points – and excusing him due to his age shouldn’t be allowed when one is paying £65 to listen to him sing.  But – the fact is – he is 80 years old.  And I was impressed at how much he did do on stage, moving around, playing guitar, little mini leg-kicks, etc.  And with the crowd favourites – to be honest the audience was more than happy to sing for him anyway.

Sunday – I had a day of rest.  With a bit of housework, the first session of exercise in a long time, and a couple of movies.  And I’ve got a fairly quiet week, this week.  Gigs tonight and tomorrow – and then nothing for the rest of the week.  Except I need to go and vote at some point.  Although it seems a foregone conclusion that NZ’s own little version of David Cameron will be staying around for another three years.

So – this is what happens when I’m feeling sorry for myself and can’t be bothered writing anything for 11 days – I’ve got 6 gigs, 2 weekends, and a shiner, all to write about.  So I’ll try to be succinct… not that I’m usually successful at that…

It all starts on Friday the 4th.  Work drinks, then off to the Garage, to watch some irreverent tongue-in-cheek high-brow indie-punk-rock.  Or something.  Art Brut – who were mingling in the crowd during the opening acts.  The show itself was actually quite good – plenty of crowd banter, usually actually fairly amusing.  For a rock band.  I can only find one video from it – and not their best song – but it at least conveys the energy, some banter, his willingness to get right into the crowd and improvise (a bit too much), and displays the guy’s self-admitted inability to sing.

Then – on the way home – I walked into a door.  Or something to that effect – long story short, I was too tired and drunk to walk away from trouble when I should have – and instead walked away with a bleeding and bruised left eye – and slight concussion, and the sudden realisation that I wasn’t even where I should be – and was completely lost (having gotten off the bus at the wrong station).  Luckily I had enough wits about me to call Ben to talk me through staying awake and out of trouble – until I found a taxi (which I jumped into before he could notice and become alarmed about the large amount of blood coming out of my face) – and got myself home.  So all’s well that end’s well – and I got home, took a photo of my face, washed it off a bit, and went to bed.

Woke up in the morning with a blood-stained sheet, and a spectacular black eye.  Moped about the house for the day – and then headed off to Bibby’s little boat for a Guy Fawkes evening.  It was a nice enough evening, floating on the Thames while drinking wine, watching explosions, etc.  Although I suddenly realised that I was becoming a little unsteady on my feet faster than normal (the whole bang to the head thing I guess) – and that this probably wasn’t a good idea when climbing across boats, etc.  So – went home relatively early like a good boy.

Sunday – the day of rest, which would be very welcome.  Except, of course, I’ve got a gig booked.  So – relaxed most of the day – and then headed into the Borderline for The Antlers.  And there are a few videos for this gig available – which is both bad/embarassing for the guy, but good that I can show you what I mean – when I say the chap got a little carried away.  But overall – some good songs – just the slow hip thrusts could have been toned down a bit.  Or a lot.  And he did seem to take himself and his music a little too seriously – possibly leading to the over-enthusiastic stage movements.

Two nights off!  Yay.  And then Wednesday – when somebody asked me what I was doing that evening, I had to tell them “I’m going to see Girls, at the Electric Ballroom.”  Which doesn’t sound the best.  But that’s exactly what I was doing.  Luckily I have found some videos to prove that it’s not what it sounds like.  (Although – searching for video clips of a band named “Girls” does prove a little difficult (and at work – dangerous)).  Anyway – a good gig, I found a decent spot, drank some red wine (with mini-bottles where the lid is actually a glass – so you twist a plastic wine glass off the top of the bottle to open it and provide you the vessel.  Brilliance), and listened to some twee indie-rock.  As you do.

Thursday was time for another dodgy sounding gig – for I was off to see The Naked And Famous.  My one “Kiwi Gig” this year, I believe – although this band is definitely good enough that I’d be listening to them anyway.  If you haven’t checked them out – do so.  They’re just so… young, and happy, and young.  I took Chook along, and we sat in the Member’s Bar – as I am a Member of the Roundhouse.  And, I hear a lot of you saying, just a Member.  But it was such a civilised way to watch a gig, sitting on our stools, literally within arm’s reach of the actual bar, and overlooking the stage.  Money well spent.  And the gig – good.  Really quite good, I fully enjoyed it – and look forward to seeing these guys just get more and more credit where it’s due.

Friday – a day of work, then headed up to Koko – to watch Turin Brakes playing their classic LP The Optimist – as it’s been 10 years since it was released.  Which distressed me – as I remember fairly well buying that album – and it can’t have been a decade since then.  But yeah – they reckon it has been – so I went along with it for the evening.  They had a fairly gimmicky concept whereby you could order the CD of the actual gig – and pick it up on the way out.  So they recorded the gig, then burned it to CD(s) immediately after – and 10 minutes after the gig, the CDs were available.  I’m all up for gimmicks – and my original CD of the album is back in Rotorua – so I figured it would make a decent souvenir if nothing more.  And yeah – decent gig.  I’d forgotten just how good that album was.  And of course, they did an encore of other songs – and I realised I’d forgotten how many other good songs they have.

And then I thought I’d have the weekend off.  Probably watch the last 3 ‘Arry Potter movies in a row, from the comfort of a steaming hot bath.  Just the normal weekend routine.  And then I discover that Pete is in town for the day – literally – landing at Heathrow at 9am or so – and flying out at 9:30pm to head back to Brisbane.  So – he lands, comes to mine, and we go for a wander around Barbican while waiting for Justin to get in touch.  Barbican itself – fine idea, nice place to just wander about catching up.  But then we stray into the art gallery.  And that was just a mistake.  I don’t know how to describe the fixture which was in place – but we didn’t even go into the main exhibition – we just saw the free bit.  And it was all architecture, and very very “meta-”, possibly even “meta-meta-”, and very self congratulatory, and all just so very very infuriating.  And there were cardboard cut-outs of people making it look like there were extra people looking at things, but they were all blurry and difficult to look at, and they were actually part of the installation, and you couldn’t tell at a glance who was real and who wasn’t, and AARRRGH.  And then the products for sale – the gift-shop as it were.  Just, so much architecture-nerd, little industry in-jokes, and then occasionally just something completely normal which was peripherally related to architects – which just made everything worse.  We both left fuming – and I seriously advise that nobody admits to being an architect in my presence for the immediate future – because I am likely to vent a helluva lot of anger and confusion.  OMA.  If something with a name like ‘OMA’ comes to a town near you – avoid.  The rest of the day was spent grabbing lunch, beers, Justin, beers, football.

And then I discover that young Caitlin has also just arrived in London.  And is having drinks in Richmond on Sunday.  So – no relaxing weekend for me at all.  Sunday – I make my way to Richmond (and who the hell lives in Richmond – it’s practically in Wales) – and commence the drinking red wine, avoiding/declining shots of tequila, “jaegerbombs”, or any other nastiness; all while trying not to feel self-conscious at being twice the age of anybody else.  And that was a good day – caught up with Caitlin, and didn’t seem to flounder too obviously in conversations about Justin Bieber and whatever else the kids are talking about these days.  And was presumably seen as some sort of role model, as by the end of the evening nearly everybody else had switched from their beers to red wine.  And much red wine was had, and then I figured I’d better disappear before I become the drunken old man in the room.

And a new week starts, without having had any rest.  A day at work, and then back to Koko – to watch another ‘veteran’ – previously (and soon to be again) of Pavement – Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks.  And yeah – pretty cool gig.  Stephen was fairly funny, again – for a musician – and there was just the right level/type of crowd banter.  I suspect he might have had something other than alcohol before coming on stage.  Not too many videos available of that gig – as it was only last night – but I figure nobody actually clicks on all these links I spend hours finding anyway.  But here’s one – a ‘Sweet’ cover of Love Is Like Oxygen.  They also did an odd cover of Wild Things to close out the night.

I’ve got tonight off – then a week with only 1 night off.

And gig season continues.  And I foolishly just bought tickets to about 4 more gigs.  The calendar is starting to look very, very full.

But back to the present, or past… The last week’s worth started with Wilco at the Roundhouse.  I signed up to become a member, so that I might get access to the Member’s Bar for the evening (this was the third night in a row – and I was keen to just sit down and listen to the gig).  But – alas, no email confirmation or anything – so I paid the money for the membership, without getting any benefit (yet).  So – headed to the venue, and got there nice and early to listen to the support act – some nice inoffensive singer-songwriter fare by a chap named Jonathan Wilson.  I found a spot against the back wall, with enough light to read by – and settled in for the evening.  The venue is not bad – and the stage for Wilco was pretty cool.  Dozens of lampshades hanging from the ceiling, with lights in them that switched on/off in patterns along with the music.  Simple, yet effective.  Signs at the door saying that cameras/etc were banned – which I smiled to see, both because of my dislike of people holding up brightly lit LCD screens of cameras/phones in front of me during gigs – and because I realised that it would be impossible/unlikely to be enforced.  And sure enough – yeah, plenty of youtube links of the gigs.  (But looking them up, I discover that the following night – Nick Lowe joined them for a song during the encore.  Which I missed out on.  Damn.  But – I do have tickets to Nick Lowe next year – so, yeah.)  But yeah – my gig was good, although I was too tired to really enjoy it properly.  A nice mixture of old and new songs, good stage set-up, and Jeff Tweedy even apologised for his gig back in 1997 (although I suspect that this was heavily tinted with irony).

After that – I had the day off.   A nice leisurely Saturday – which I used to do enough housekeeping stuff to feel virtuous, and then spent 4 hours in the bath – eating dinner, watching TV/movies, reading book, drinking wine.  The bath is the new couch.

Sunday – a big one.  PJ Harvey at Royal Albert Hall.  First half of the show was stuff from the new album, Let England Shake.  Which is a very very good album – a concept album about war, but packed full of beautiful music.  And PJ wearing her crazy black outfit – with use of the lighting system to good effect – at times only lighting her head, providing the effect of a floating singing pretty wee head full-o-genius.  And then after an hour or so – she brought out a range of older stuff.  All good.  Crazy good.

In fact – so good, I went the next night also – this time sitting in the Grand Tier.  And again – yeah, good.  Very very good.

And then it was Tuesday – with another great venue – the Union Chapel.  This time, to see Timber Timbre – which I can only describe as folk music which sounds like it belongs in a David Lynch film.  Once again – being the 3rd gig in a hat-trick of gigs – I was too tired to really enjoy it.  But – I turned up early, took a book, and enjoyed the opening act – a band by the name of Evening Hymns, playing in a chapel, who are not religious.  And they were nice and pleasant to listen to, while reading.  And then Timber Timbre – as per above, just really creepy folk.  And obviously aware of that – as the latest album was titled Creep On Creepin On.  So – good gig, but just too tired to appreciate it properly.  Weird voice, and if you want to get an idea of what I mean by “creepy” – check out some of their videos.

And then Wednesday.  Yay – no gigs.  But, alas, work drinks.  First – drinks at the client I was at, leaving drinks for some of the other contractors/consultants being booted out of there.  And then rushing off to a ten-pin bowling alley where my actual company was holding an evening.  Where I found everybody finishing off pizzas.  And then some bowling – after most people had spent the last hour or two eating pizza, I had spent the last two hours drinking wine.  I initially tried to avoid being made a member of a team, but when I failed – I fishtailed spectacularly, and sneakily ended up playing for two different teams.  Sharing around my overly flamboyant bowling style – like a good samaritan.  Still didn’t end up on the winning team.  And then found the pool table, where I challenged the current holder.  And somehow, very early on, we took a strong dislike to each other.  He was the kind of guy, with his retinue, who obviously spend every evening at the bowling alley, playing pool, thinking they are the Fonz.  And loving the whole tacky coca-cola americana side of it.  In short – loving everything I despise.  Whereas I was taking the piss, once again show-boating – slightly intoxicated (after having had another bottle of wine while bowling) – and making some ridiculous trick shots.  When I heard one of his mates ask another “Where the hell did this guy come from?” – I figured my job was done.  But I continued to play, but without full commitment – and the game was rather epic.  Eventually we had this guy with his dozen little greaseball friends cheering him on – and my company had found me and were cheering me on shamelessly.  All in all, rather bizarre.  But eventually I lost – when the ball refused to travel just that extra 1cm which would have allowed me to win.  Stupid ball.  But I left with my boss clapping me on the back and assuring me I’d won the moral victory anyways.  Which I’m not entirely sure of, but sure – I’ll take that.

Thursday I had a night off – so it was dinner, TV & movies in the bath again.  And then today, forgetting how I struggle with three gigs in a row – I’ve lined up a 9 day period with a total of 7 gigs.  Including one run of 4 gigs.  I figure that 4th gig, I’ll be sleeping through.  Sorry Bob.

How many people would regularly attend both the Royal Albert Hall & the Walkabout?  Not many.  If any.

Okay – “regularly attend” is a bit of an exaggeration, but there has been a fair bit of juxtaposition over the last couple of weeks.  Although I’ve only been to the Royal Albert Hall once – that wasn’t enough so I did just today book two more evenings there, and have vague plans to attend some kind of classical music thing there in April or so.  And I have been to the Walkabout twice over the last month, I think – which was more than enough.

Since last time – I saw Snoop Doggy Dogg.  That was… , well, it was Snoop – live.  I went to the O2, had dinner at a french restaurant while waiting for the gig to start – and seriously thought that Snoop was in the restaurant as well.  But eventually I realised I was just being a racist – “all braided-hair tall lanky cool-as-can-be african americans look the same to me”.  But anyway, had myself some nice moules mariniere and wine, before entering the Arena.  Tried to buy myself some Snoop ‘merch’ – but ended up with a ladies t-shirt.  So ladies – if you wear a size “L” – and want a Snoop ‘skinny whitey’ – let me know.  I then discovered that the O2 serve full sized bottles of wine, even if they are plastic.  So got myself some red red wine to go with my gangsta rap, and proceeded to sip on that, while reading my ebook.  Then some drunk, and I suspect really rather drugged, couple came up and molested me.  Somehow at the end of that, I lost a rather large glass of wine – which gave me justification to buy another bottle.  And then Snoop D-O-double-G came on.  I had a pretty sweet seat – but of course as soon as the Doggfather came on stage, everybody stood up – so I had to as well.  Although I did retake my seat on a few occasions, usually to have a bit of a relax while he was playing one of his many tracks which were preceded with “this one is for the ladies”.  But yeah, overall – a pretty sweet gig, exactly what I expected/hoped for.  Snoop being Snoop, doing some classic hits, and a couple of covers.

And that brilliantly ridiculous night set the tone for the next week.  The next morning – I woke up at about 5am (so a total of 4 or 5 hours sleep since downing a couple of bottles of wine) – to head to the pub, to watch rugby.  I managed to watch both quarter-finals on that morning, although my memories of the actual games are a little blurry.  At one point, the barman did suggest I have a coffee or something instead of another beer.  And told me I wasn’t allowed to sleep there (I was just trying to get 10 minutes of rest between games).  But eventually – both games over, and I got in a taxi to head to work.  Yep – there was some kind of super-emergency brewing, with the CIO taking a personal interest, and the Vice-President of Operations in the office – and a guy who was brought in for the day because “he’s the guy who writes books on this stuff” – and me, after a night of Snoop, very little sleep, and a morning of rugby & beer.  But eventually I was more useful than the specialist brought in, which unfortunately meant he left at about 3pm, while I was stuck in the office until 8pm.  And eventually left, very very tired.  And as yet, unpaid for the day.

But I struggled to get a little sleep that night – before getting up the following morning at 5am, to again go watch some rugby.  This time though – heading to watch it with Dom in his living room, all civilised like.  But where does one get a taxi from at 5am?  Well – if you’re me – then you live around the corner from one of the most famous nightclubs – Fabric – so I figured that at 5am on Sunday morning, there is bound to be taxis there.  And yes – but also many drunk/? people – so I walked past, feeling unable to join any queue/group of such people.  And then down the road – a voice called out to me “taxi!?”  “Yes”, I thought – “taxi” is what I need, but “taxi” is not what you are.  For in a small private car, a dodgy guy was calling out to me.  But I figured, yeah – sure.  I got in, and quickly but subtly made it known that I was not actually a half-awake uncoordinated drunk/? idiot on his way home.  Although I was actually a half-awake uncoordinated blurry mess for reasons solely relating to waking up 5 minutes ago – I managed to insinuate that I was not an easy mark.  But it all turned out alright – the guy drove me to Dom’s, even put on the rugby game when it started, and we had a chit-chat regarding that – and he seemed alright.  So yeah – I fully recommend getting into an unlicensed-taxi/strangers-car in the wee hours of the morning.  And leading on, after that potentially disastrous situation dissipated, the two rugby games were also successfully negotiated – although again, the details are all a bit blurry.  I’m really rather happy that the semis & final are at much more civilised times.

Sunday morning out of the way, I headed home – had a nice nap, and then headed off to Hackney for some live music – Iron & Wine doing an acoustic gig.  Luckily – some very nice quiet acoustic folk.  In fact – for about half the gig, I stood at the back, next to the bar – for easy access to the wine, and enough light to read by.  And the other half – took my seat, and watched the nice man with the beard (which seems to accentuate rather than distract from his forehead” play his guitar and sing his nice songs.  All terribly civilised – in fact, too civilised for the nice man, who continuously complained about everybody being too quiet and polite.

And then it was Monday – which would normally be a welcome rest.  And it nearly was, except my current client had started to go nuts, trying to get me to do as much as possible before they kicked me out the door.  And then that night – I was to see Iron & Wine again – this time the “full-band” performance.  Which he had promised to be a heap louder and more raucous.  Which I was curious about – because I don’t think having additional supporting musicians, and electric instruments, are going to transform quiet folk songs into stadium rock.  And sure enough… the full-band performance was still good, but kinda bizarre – with a lightshow, and Sam himself seeming to think he was playing some kind of loud rock show – while playing all these slow quiet (but nice) songs.  All in all – I probably could have skipped it, after seeing the acoustic one.

And then, Tuesday.  Another day of struggling through work, and then my first ever time at Royal Albert Hall – to see Spiritualized.  Which I wasn’t sure about – not having listened to the music for years.  But I think I grabbed the tickets just to get to see Royal Albert Hall.  And yeah – not disappointed.  Not the best seats for watching the show – right up the top – but good for just getting an overall view of the hall itself.  And the gig – started off slow – good enough that I wasn’t disappointed – and initially even quite impressed, but then not much else.  Jason ‘Spaceman’ sitting on a stool, playing the songs – with  a backing band and a full chorus or two supporting him – and some quite good lighting effects and what-not.  All quite good – but it become slightly ho-hum through the middle, with quite a few slow songs (I think he played the entirety of his new album?).  And then the encore – wow.  Pretty sweet.  Just song after song of good music, a great show, and just an incredible atmosphere.

After Tuesday, comes Wednesday.  Wednesday was a nice relaxing day of work, fencing, gig.  Work included (from memory it was this day) – a vendor coming in to do an installation, the day after having been accidentally forwarded an email (by my project manager) in which I referred to this guy having “wound me up”.  So yeah – that was a nice delicate situation.  Then fencing – where I had to protect myself from being stabbed by an epee.  And then quickly rushed home, and off to the local little gig venue to watch We Were Promised Jetpacks.  Who despite their terrible name, aren’t actually too bad.  They are one of the current glut of good indie-rock bands pouring out of Scotland.  The lead singer looks like a chubby petulant child – with a mouth that looks like you could drive a bus right into it when he yells.  By this time, I just stood at the back, watching all the pretty young things in their “twee” clothes with disdain.  But yeah – good gig.  I suspect the lead singer really is a petulant child – and I suspect he is going to get chubbier – with people raining critical acclaim upon him before he’s ready, and generally just turning him into a dick.  But decent gig anyway.

And that was the last gig for a while – which was actually quite the relief.  Until I remembered work drinks on the following night – which were substantial.  And then rugby on both Saturday & Sunday mornings.  But that all went off without too many hitches.

And now it’s this week – and a whole new exhausting chain of events has started – but that can wait until later.