It’s 20:48. Downstairs, England and Germany are at stalemate (one all). D is just back from the Gym, and watching the game while consuming his post-workout mix.Up here, I’m listening to Blur, enjoying the fact that my Flickr and Last.FM mosaics have successfully added to the page. That’s them, to the right, at the top and bottom of the sidebar.
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Hmm. Very interesting. Above my LastFM chart for last week. I’m making no comment on this one, but think I may start keeping track of these, in an effort to decide whetehr my musical choices are anything more than random.
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Hey,
How are you doing? Me? Oh, I’m fine. A bit blaaah, really, but nothing specific. The weekend was fantastic. No, really: Fan. Tas. Tic.
Friday was a trip to the gym for another hellish workout, followed by a steam in the steam-room, during which I got talking to another gym-goer, discovered he used to work for Capitalist Bastard Bank (ie the parent of my current employers), and that he, too, is a friend of Merv’s. Nice to be networking, at the gym, in the steamroom. It felt just like a scene from the Sopranos.
After that, it was a taxi ride to the West End to meet D. I love a light, bright evening taxi ride in the city: It all looks so filled with potential, so cinematic. A quick bite at Kettners (Where St Oscar regularly took his rent, don’t ya know), and we met up with uncles Bob and Larry for a trip to see Ms Coco Peru at the Soho Theatre.
