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I st-st-stuttered when you asked me what I'm thinking 'bout 2008-09-06 | 10:45 a.m. I was meant to be going to Brighton today, on a day out with some of the Sisterhood of Steno (translation: some worky type friends. And fear not, there is no sexual discrimination in the sisterhood, which comprises several males). Anyway, seeing as about one quarter of all the entire water in the world is insistent upon lashing down on this country, our trip to the coast has been abandoned in favour of something slightly more indoorsy, namely the London Dungeon and then for 'a' drink. I do like the London Dungeon, even though the torture instruments make me feel somewhat unwell, I always try to hide in the crowd so I don't get picked to help out with a demonstration, and last time when Mrs Lovett jumped out and screamed in my face I spent the rest of the day as a trembling, nervous wreck. Even more imminent than that, I am off to get my clapped-out car made slightly less clapped-out. I have a fucked exhaust, handbrake and windscreen wiper. Strangely, the one that bothers me the most is the windscreen wiper as it makes the squeakiest, loudest racket. Imagine a mixture of fingernails down a blackboard, a felt tip pen on a whiteboard and 8 million rodents trying to break the Guinness World Record for most noise and you're about half way there. Sadly all I'm going to get done today is my exhaust replaced, but at least it'll remove the risk of it falling off as I'm driving. So, Thursday! And my evening of looking at a room full of skeletons with Gaz. It was one of the best first dates I've ever been on. The exhibition itself was brilliant - a room full of skeletons from various centuries and with numerous ailments (I love stuff like this - it's fascinating) and a separate exhibit upstairs, dedicated to medicine through the times. We sort of latched on to a tour guide group which consisted entirely of friendly goths and whom had a very animated speaker, who spoke enthusiastically about various contraptions including anti-masturbatory devices as championed by Mr Kellogg of Cornflakes fame. I think you know you're at ease in someone's presence when you can listen to someone talking about the various methods used to stop people wanking and not feel even the slightest hint of embarrassment (or maybe I'm just too crude). So having absorbed some culture we went to a pub for a couple of drinks and just chatted loads. All of a sudden it was midnight and it was time to chuck my glass slippers out the window so I didn't miss my train home. (And then on my train some suited dude in his 40s - clearly slightly worse for wear - ate a Burger King meal then five minutes later ate it in reverse into the brown paper bag whilst swaying back and forth. Lovely!) Am I going to see Gaz again? Well, Tori is going to be doing something belatedly for her birthday next weekend, which we're both invited to, so hopefully then, certainly. And after that...I'll just have to see. |
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