Friday Feta

The Friday's Feasts questions are just getting more and more rubbish. In a few weeks it'll be things like "what's your name and why is it important to you?" and "if you had to be made of gold or silver and sing a song about it, which would you be and what would the rhyme scheme of your song be?". Actually I like that last one. Silver, and iambic pentameter.

Last night Tom and I went out and got mildly resonated in a bar in Angel. There was wine, tapas and ice-cream. On a Thursday night! Imagine! Throwing the Weekend Ice-Cream Laws to the wind! I shock myself sometimes with my daringness.

I have begun to get over my post-holiday blues, by means of arranging a website overhaul, and some other things. I am excited about the site re-vamp, because I don't think it's comprehensive enough as it is. Also it is very jazz-orientated, and I am less and less jazz these days. Far more hardcore punk rock. I will still keep the jazz tracks on there, but there will be other things as well. Photos, a blog, other recordings, video clips. A more comprehensive and accurate biography. Loads of stuff, and the look of it will be revamped as well. Euan and I are meeting next Thursday to discuss it all in fine, beer-addled detail.

This weekend holds delights in store for me. Tonight is Dan's housemate Mike's birthday so I am tagging along for more mild resonation in Queen's Park. Then tomorrow night I'm going to the housewarming party of my friend Sophie (a member of Surf '06, which is what we called our trip to Biarritz because we are all so cool, hip and down with the kids) on the King's Road. Tom is also coming, and will have an exciting evening spent listening to in-jokes and then having to smile politely as someone tells him in detail where exactly the game 'Cock or Foot' came from. Then on Sunday there are some options, all of which involve parks and fun therein. Also possible beer.

Also I must organise getting my cello fixed. Again. It was fixed, and a shiny new bridge was put on. I excitedly rosin-ed up my bow (that's not a euphemism) and set to work tuning it so I could finally scratch out the Elgar Cello Concerto with vigour and enthusiasm, and as I tuned it the A-string snapped with a triumphant 'p-ping!'. The A-string, for the uninitiated, is not supposed to snap with a triumphant 'p-ping!'. I cried a bit, and then set to work assuming that the bridge is wonky. So back I must trawl to the lady on Denmark Street (nicknamed 'Tin Pan Alley' for all the music shops on it) near Tottenham Court Road to demand a good re-fixing. I am having a rehearsal with Janie (Bird) next weekend so I need to practice and become all swooshy again ('swooshy': a technical, cello term meaning 'not really shit') before then. Oh, the pressure.

Thanks for the comments on the last post. I wasn't fishing for compliments, not really. Thanks for the compliments anyway, though. I wrote them all on my hand so people can see them and know what a hyper-cool blogger I am. I won't give up because I have a flourishing addiction and I relish it.

I feel the need to answer one Friday's Feast question, so I have chosen the one most directed at people who have a sunny outlook on life and collect pictures of kittens in baskets.

Appetizer
Name one thing nice that you could do for someone else today.

I could make up some better questions the Friday's Feast. Or I could actually do some work. Or I could stop spreading rumours about people leading secret double lives as exotic dancers called Chad. Or maybe smile at someone in the tube. Actually every Londoner knows that smiling at people in the tube is tantamount to wearing a sandwich board with the words 'I AM A FREAK AND MAY EAT YOUR FAMILY' written in marker pen on both sides, and therefore is probably something to be avoided.

Well, have a lovely weekend, my friends. I am off to lie in a park somewhere and top up my freckles.