Be Busy Bee

Earlier on I was speaking to my friend Chris, who touched down in Heathrow earlier on today.

"So often" he exclaimed, "landing at Heathrow is the most depressing thing in the world. Like war..."

"...or AIDS?" I interjected, sensing his theme.

"Um, yeah, or AIDS. But today! Even Heathrow looked amazing!"

Today, you see, is a beautiful day. London is obscenely, absurdly sunny.

When Pippa and I met for our semi-regular lunchtime coffee, we were forced into the shade in spite of our clanging inner voices that insisted we Make The Most Of It While It Lasts. The buses oozed redly up and down Tottenham Court Road in front of us as we chattered and pretended desperately that our respective offices were just grey mirages (but, of course, that our pay cheques were not).

Last night was lovely. My housemates were out, so I turned on the radio, opened all the windows and a bottle of chilled white wine and made a spinach and lentil dahl in a leisurely manner, before heading upstairs to work on some music stuff for tonight's session with Martin. I had also recently received a gift, which lay in my room, tantalisingly, waiting to be opened.

I was recovering from a busy weekend, which I can summarize thus:

Friday: After work I tripped off to some friends' house in Brixton for dinner. Delicious food and lovely company. (Also wine and gin.) Then, on what was ostensibly my "way home" I popped round to see some more friends, where I embarrassed myself thoroughly by telling too many jokes and knocking a drink over onto my friend's computer. God.

Saturday: A gin/wine/guilt hangover. Hung around a bit indulging in some piteous self-loathing, then went to meet Dan and Becky outside Gordon's Wine Bar for a few hours. At about six I sullenly trudged along to the Lyceum Theatre to host a VIP event at The Lion King. When that finished at about ten thirty I headed to Clapham for a rendez-vous with Mister Curly and his friend Dan, who were over from Cardiff for reasons known only to themselves. It was terribly fun. I was proposed to by a French barman sporting a dubious hat, which meant we were served very quickly until they would serve us no longer. While they waited for a night bus to Tooting I leapt into a taxi, which cost me a million pounds and my first born child, despite the fact that I live just around the corner.

Sunday: I rose warily, mentally edging around a potential hangover, but was relieved to find none in evidence. I navigated a series of tubes and buses up to Crouch End to go to a lovely old (ex) church, now a series of recording studios, variously owned by the likes of Dave Stewart and David Gray. I was recording with a producer I have been writing with, and also with a guy called Nikolaj (the drummer from, amongst other bands, Lamb), who had played on the tracks but is now also involved in the production side. One track (called Half Full) is a chill out, ambient one, and the other one we recorded is hip-hop (called Away Days) and features the fantastic Timothy Notes, an MC/rapper. It was a great day, and I am looking forward immensely to hearing the results. I love that, now the writing and recording is done, my part is over, and the producer (Lucas) is now gathering interest for the tracks. I can just put it aside and get on with my other music-writing things.

So last night I was tired, but had work to do for tonight's musical endeavours. I enjoyed it, though, and finished by about eleven so that I could talk to Ben for a bit before drifting off to sleep to dream, rather inexplicably, about people stealing all my pens.

(I did find time to, ahem, put in some groundwork for my review, as it were, and try and think about how I am going to write it without peppering the whole thing with the word "ahem" and the phrase "as it were".)

This Friday I zip off to Manchester, and before that I am bee-busy.

I will find time tonight, though, to fit in a beer with my old friend Chris, who is finally back in the country after a long stint being all journalisty in the USA. We will sit in a pub in sunny Brixton and he will regale me with stories of adventure and intrigue, to which I will no doubt respond with something about ponies and take a very large sip of my drink.