This post is in a continuous state of evolution...
I have stopped eating eggs.
This is because I hate the word. Not because I don't like the taste of them, just because I feel strange eating eggs in front of people because I just have a funny feeling about them. There's something strange about them. Apart from anything else, they're chicken's PERIODS. They are, you know, think about it. Actually that in itself is less horrible than the word itself. I don't know what it is, really.
In other news, I am quite looking forward to this gig now. I have decided upon an outfit. It goes like this:
Black basque from Ann Summers.
Black waistcoat from Oasis.
Black pencil skirt from Oasis.
Very high heeled sexy shoes (also black) (vintage)
Red lipstick, nails, etc.
Various bits of jewellery, probably.
Ta da! The effect is supposed to be forties glamour. The basque is my favourite item on the list.
I wrote a song. Well, some lyrics. On Wednesday I'm getting together with the guy who's piano-ing for me and he's going to help me finish it off. Thing is, though, I'm not sure that it isn't really, really shit. Oh well. Better to have something really shit than nothing at all, or than Plan B, which was to do a rap version of "I'm A Little Teapot" complete with actions and costume.
Also, you know my Dad? Yeah, you met him that time you came to tea and we all ended up getting really drunk? No, no, not the time with the strippers, the other time. Yes? Anyway, I think I mentioned that my Dad got a CBE this year. And he was given THREE extra tickets to go to the palace! Buckingham, not Crystal. Three! So. My Mum, my Grandmother. AND ONE MORE LUCKY CONTESTANT!!
Well, I have two sisters. Sophie: Youngest, impish, lives in Paris. Alex: Oldest, smallest, lives in Ealing (London). And then there's me: Me. Middle. Explains a lot.
My Dad created some elaborate lottery system to decide. No drawing bits of paper out of a hat for him, no sir.
I accidentally posted that before I'd finished it. Sorry! (I'm not really sorry)
This lottery system was elaborate. Oh yes. It happened. And... GUESS WHAT?!
I didn't win.
Sophie won. Sophie is going to the palace. Alex and I will be locked in the basement with just some stale bread and water while Cinder-Sophie gets to go and meet the royals. Well, sort of, in that we are going to go to the posh meal afterwards but not the palace. I would have liked to go, but fair's fair, a lottery system was created and my father is a fair man, and Sophie will sneak in a secret camera and will take cardboard cut outs of me and Alex so it'll be like we're all there, and maybe if we ask nicely she'll ask the Queen some inappropriate questions so we'll have some stories to tell.
I might be going to Wales next week. The country, not the biggest of all the mammals. Though that would be cool.
If anyone wants to come to the gig on Thursday so you can see my basque, email me and I'll put you on the guest list. Either at email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.
In other other news: I am going to a pole-dancing lesson. And I have also applied to the London School of Striptease to do a beginners course. Just for fun. Why not?
Maybe I'll update again, as today I'm feeling whimsical.
I told you.
I need your help. Especially if you're from London and know things. Paul, this is the sort of thing you'd be good at.
I'm doing a quiz thing where you have clues and you have to work out which London station it..er.. means. You know. Like, for example:
Pale coloured church = Whitechapel.
They can be tube stations or overland ones. I stand to win Champagne, which I will not share but will gladly tell you all about. So here they are:
SUITABLE INGDREDIENT FOR A STEW
GRASS COLOURED TIMBER
DATED LANE (Old Street)
DISCARD BY EDGE OF SEA
PERFORMER PERCHED IN THE MIDDLE
REGAL TREE (Royal Oak)
SYMBOLIC WEIGHTY HEADGEAR
ANYONE FOR TENNIS (Oooh, tricky. Wimbledon)
LONDON HAS 33 OF THESE LOCAL BODIES (Borough?)
A DOG CRYING (Barking...? Except that's not crying, though, is it?)
FEMALE PRISON IS HERE (Holloway Road)
CURVED ROUTE OR DIRECTION
ENTER LAIR ON ALL FOURS
YOU WILL NEED A TIN OPENER FOR THIS PLACE
HOLY PLACE OF WORSHIP
THIS LONG LEGGED BIRD FITS ANY LOCK
TEA PARTY HOSTED AT A LORD'S PLACE
THIS ROYAL LASS WAS NEVER AMUSED (Victoria?)
WHIPPETS USUALLY SPEED BY HERE
A FACTORY SERVING DESSRET IS FOUND ON THIS STREET
This is the sort of thing I am rubbish at. Champagne, however, is the sort of thing I am very good at, so please help. Thanks.