Beer Bloggles

I am having a beer. It is Monday, and I am tentatively exploring the delights of beer after writhing about in only-slightly-exaggerated agony for the last few days due to what actually turned out to be quite a mild and short-lived cold.

I went to Edinburgh, to the Fringe! It was, as usual, a heady combination of the grubby and the glamorous, everyone experiencing the diurnal transition from arty drunk into a glowering hungover husk of humanity. Ben was doing a show as part of the Free Fringe, so lots of time was spent loitering grimly in dungeon-y pubs, clutching pints of Tennents and trying not to touch the walls. The show was great. People were great. It was great*.

(*I have become a luvvie! Albeit one with a very limited vocabulary.)

I did notice that I am becoming officially Too Old And Set In My Ways to party like I used to, though. I am quite sure that, ten(-ish) years ago when I came up with University, I could party properly. All night and all day if necessary, then do a show in the evening and start again. Nowadays 10.30pm has me glancing worriedly at my watch and anxiously pawing the ground, as I switch to chamomile tea and wonder when I am going to finish off that lovely needlepoint piece with the kittens on. Perhaps it is not that bad, not yet, but still. I am drinking a solitary beer on a Monday night and feeling a touch outrageous, so maybe there really is something amiss.

Also, we are moving house!

From house to flat, specifically. From a terraced house in Moss Side to mezzanine flat in Homes For Change, a housing co-operative in Hulme, even more specifically. It is really exciting, but we have only a few days to move all our stuff (although most of it belongs to Ben, really, I am a woman of little stuff). August is busy, we are performing at Shambala Festival this weekend and then going down south for some days. When we come back Ben is going away for another few days, leaving me and the cat to wander around the house aimlessly putting things/sitting in boxes until Ben gets back and does all the real work.

I am worried about how to tell the cat we are moving. He loves it here, although he pretends to be aloof and disinterested in life and all its forms. I don't know how he will adjust to all the changes. I'm not even sure he really knows what a mezzanine flat is, even though I have drawn him a few diagrams.

Tomorrow and the following day I am leading some Glee workshops that are taking place in Bolton. All day today I have been pretending to hate learning all the songs and acting like it's not my fault that I have to sing "Defying Gravity" along to a backing track at the top of my voice whilst dancing jerkily along into the bedroom mirror. Ben has totally fallen for it. Secretly I think it will be quite fun. I might even buy some leg-warmers on the way.

Anyway, my lone beer has sent me slightly delirious, so I will go and lie face down until I stop wanting to terrorize the cat with the words "just a small town girl". Mezzanine or no mezzanine I think he might make a break for it. Probably quite rightly.

Right. Beer = finished. Therefore, blog post also = finished.