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Boy, what a weekend…

Boy, what a weekend…

Well, despite all the advice I had over what to do at the weekend, I decided to ignore it all, and in the process ended up having a relatively jam-packed social weekend full of sunny goodness, food, drink. No flirting though.

’twas a very good weekend. Packed full of social vitality, it was almost like my life is meant to be.

After one of those interminably dull weeks of work you only get in the summer, I felt a hunger to go out in the sun and get drunk…

Alas, H was in London celebrating the birthday of J – one of her close friends – so in a very bourgeois cosmopolitian way, I decided to join her. Of course, by the time I *got* to London the sun was setting but it was still fun getting to the pub. And therein lay my fatal mistake.

The pub in question was doing a deal on Vodkas and Red Bulls. This, combined with H’s generosity in buying champagne for J resulted in about three hours of slowly drunken conversation, and getting to know new people. Including J’s sister who started off being a tad cute (well, she was female) but later turned into a bit of a sheltered Norfolk woman. Albeit with a lovely bottom.

From the pub, we eventually stumbled into one of those basement “Spanish” clubs on Covent Garden where they charge £10 to get in, then £3 for a drink. Plus the dancefloor was a tad cramped and full of R’n’B music. Despite all this, for some reason I found the stupidity and the energy to join H and J and everyone else on the dancefloor, and sooner or later we never left.

H has been constantly teasing me since that we danced to *everything* – the Birdie Song will come on and she’ll say that we grooved to it. But I do remember doing a ridiculous 4-minute air guitar solo to Living On A Prayer. Thank Gawd they never played Blue Monday.

Leaving the club solo at 3am, I stumbled across Chinatown, and drunkenly decided to have a quick noodle dish in one of those simple Chinese restaurants where the kitchen is in the restaurant. And for some reason – despite my total lack of Chinese and not knowing anyone else in the joint – I felt like I was home. For a while at least. Must be those cursed Red Bulls.

Left, got the bus home, fell asleep on the bus and woke up just in time to see dawn rising on my road. If I hadn’t been so tired, I’d have taken a picture.

Saturday

Woke up the next afternoon without any ill effect whatsoever. Which was nice. After potting around the flat and checking things out, I eventually persuaded my neighbour B to go into town with me. We did a lot of window-shopping (windows can be so nice to look at, don’cha think) especially around geeky sci-fi/computer/guitar shops, and finished it off with a sushi buffet. Woo-hoo.

During the buffet, I was informed that my friends back in Cardiff were going to have a BBQ at 7pm. So moving as fast as we could, we eventually got back to the flat, so I could get the train to Paddington. Unfortunately, summer sun being what it is, when we thought it was 3pm it was actually 8pm.

So I didn’t get back to Cardiff till 10.30pm, by which time the BBQ was well and truly over. Fortunately, they were all still there so an enjoyable late night was spent supping on white wine and watching various things on the TV (Only Fools and Horses, Tremors and capped off with the brilliant I Love 1974) while chatting.

Stumbled home around 1am, and since i hadn’t touched a computer for over 24 hours, felt compelled to surf, email and tweak with my blog till dawn came around again at 5am.

Sunday

Woke up to the sound of my useless phone ringing. It’s H telling me she’s popping round with L and we’re all going off for Sunday lunch. Since the sun is shining, this sounds like a nice idea.

Lunch rapidly turns into buying provisions for a picnic, then going for a Mex/Tex meal at Las Iguanas with sangria. Two sangria jugs between two people later, we’re headed off for The Big Weekend. I’ve got no idea what it is, so am pleasantly surprised to discover they’ve turned Cardiff City Hall into an outdoor concert venue and funfair.

We settle down in the grass, and watch a jazz/blues/Rhythm’n’Blues old-time combo called King Pleasure and the Biscuit Boys (as yer do). Call me old, but I loved mentally swinging to it, and commetned to H that i need to learn the saxophone next year when I turn 30. If I don’t commit suicide that is.

Next up after a lot of changing (and me falling asleep on my nose) are some Celtic/Canadian/Cajun band La Bottine Souriante. Had flashbacks to my days in Louisiana eating crawfish at crawfish boils and surrounded by cute Americans playing Cajun music. Although not quite. The music was OK but it was enlivened significantly by the occasional appearance of a tap-dancing Anne Heche.

During all this, I was aware that E (my ex-flatmate who still had my keys) and M (my current flatmate) were also around us. Small world. At least in Cardiff.

Next up were The Proclaimers – who still looked twinful. Of course, most of the audience were there just waiting for their two hits, which they eventually delivered. I was probably getting a little tired at this point – the alcohol must have been wearing off.

Finally were The Waterboys. And out came the shiny lasers! They were beautiful, man, the best lasers I had ever seen. They penetrated the night sky like beacons of light (which is what they are of course) and I was far more fascinated watching the moths dart in and out of the beams than the Waterboys, alas. Although their big hit was of course a great crowd pleaser.

Fireworks came, we went to a bar/club, albeit me reluctantly. There was a woman in a purple top – and the top, with slashes all over it to reveal the top and bottom half of her gorgeous breasts – was just enough (or maybe too much) to make me yearn for more. But aside from my total lack of pulling power and the unlikelihood of her wanting me since we were in a gay bar (gay bar, gay bar) I barely had the energy to dance.

Got home, slept.

Then there was work.

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