No News From The Easter Sabbatical

The Easter holidays have deprived me of anything interesting to record.

Beale and Inman of 175 years old was finally dismantled today. Everything of value in it has been sold, the Charles Dickens cheque, the ledgers, the royal documents everything. It was finally gutted by the auditors but I got to go home an hour early and come in an hour late which is always so lovely.

The Mercury Prize thingie gave me some initial grief trying to get the stupid picture framed and lugged all the way over to Kensal Green. But it was shortlisted for the final thing so that’s not all bad. I doubt it’ll win, the last thing I won was a memory game when I was 10, but it’s always nice to make it into the finals. I have resigned myself to being that person who never wins but is a perpetual runner-up.

Shanaya R., who is remarkably and disturbingly similar to ‘Margo’/’Audrey from ‘The Good Life’ and ‘To the Manor Born’, is in town performing her play. I managed to drag myself see her about twice since she got here.

My parents are always desperately eager that I stay in touch with people whose parents they happen to be friends with. I’ve never understood it. My mother especially really works herself up when I’m cavalier or downright refuse to stay in touch with people, (not Shanaya luckily for my mother).

She can’t seem to grasp the fact that with some people the level of friendship is directly proportionate to the distance between them. When I was in school they would rotate the class rooms with each passing year, so you were separated from your ‘best friend’ of that year. I would try during the short recess to ‘stay in touch’ but in the 3rd standard being in different classes was as good as being in a different country.

Perhaps my mum imagines if I don’t ‘stay in touch’ I’ll end up alone with only the stupid kitty cats for company. I only hope that when I’m old and wrinkled I’ll still be drinking and smoking.

Unless I get put in some fucking fascist old persons home where everything unhealthy will be banned

(for your own good they’ll say, a lot like the UK govt. policies right now.)


9 thoughts on “No News From The Easter Sabbatical

  1. I didn’t realise you’d been shortlisted for the Mercury thingy. Congratulations. Er, so have I. Was this a national competition or one confined to those in walking distance of Endell Street? Anyway, we must be awfully good eh?

  2. fucking hell we must be fantastic!and congratulations yourself [I’m enjoy all this mutual back patting]I’m not sure really if its one of those itsy bitsy type exhibition things…. Are you going there at 12 on Monday for the photos? I sure hope you will, because I was dreading going to that and the preview and standing there alone in a corner for an hour like an ass while feeling awkward.

  3. I am, though the feeling’s mutual. I have never felt particularly arty or wish to appear as such, particularly at private viewings. I just like the free drink really (which I will not go easy on – bloody cheek!). Oh well, we can stand in the corner holding hands looking awkward together.

  4. And since you’re bav and will live forever, you’ll still be drinking and smoking long after Riddhi and i have popped it. you’re doomed to be alone, doomed, i say, doomed.

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