ahoy! ahoy!
And normal service has (almost) been resumed after a couple of weeks of charging around the country, including more pick and mix and zombies in Leeds (too many if you ask me; four films out of five and I’d already seen ‘groundbreaking’ [meh] found-footage anthology VHS which was making up the numbers) charity coat collecting in London and Peri Peri chicken with Caramac for pudding (it was getting late).
Fortunately for me, the slightly disappointing Night Of The Dead line up ended shortly (a couple of hours) before Sunday lunch in York with the lovely Laura Lee and my new gorgeous pal Claire of Bristol to cheer me up and bolster the spirits before the usual London chaos, the entertaining taking place this time in a hotel room enormous enough for an impromptu cricket match which more than made up for the freezing cold weather (as did my newly purchased winter treat, a lovely down-filled puffer coat from Belstaff to make up for those nobly sacrificed to the charity folk). I thankfully still found time for Ping Pong with Charlotte MySecretLife after dithering about and finally writing off the Tower Bridge choices (not before walking to Tower Bridge, which as ever was very pretty), a spot of Christmas shopping and after a staggeringly (literally, by the time I fell into bed at 2.46am) busy Saturday, a very pleasant – if that’s the right word – evening with one much adored and always impeccably mannered regular gentleman in tow and by way of contrast, Frankie Boyle on the Hammersmith Apollo stage, both of whom were on top form as was the nearby Nando’s, although it did make the late night packing somewhat tedious.
Any time spent with Frankie Boyle (an angry man, Nando’s or no Nando’s) calls for calming measures to be taken, and after some early doors shenanigans with more London folk on Sunday morning I packed up, checked out and strolled over to Sloane Square to give myself up to the warm and peaceful embrace of the Peter Jones haberdashery department, where I drifted about in a yarn-induced stupor for nigh on forty minutes, eventually departing with as many bagfuls as I could carry as well as assorted beads, a giant (10mm) crochet hook and some previously untried and supremely lethal-looking 4mm bamboo knitting pins which will not only make sustained knitting sessions (Glasgow-Scarborough, Cork-Dublin, anything involving National Express) gentler and easier but should also come in handy in the event of a mugging attempt.
In retrospect, Sloane Square is possibly not the best place for not-posh people shortly after a verbal onslaught from an equally not-posh Glaswegian, but I maintained civility and composure by enjoying the sunshine, idly wondering why so many people were dressed to go horse riding despite no horses being visible and reminiscing over my 1979 Mp3 playlist (I can personally recommend browsing the alpaca and merino blend in eau de nil to the rousing strains of Into The Valley by The Skids). I arrived back in Scarborough late on Sunday night, having travelled by way of Leeds (bus depot, Burger King, railway station) and spent the ensuing 36 hours or so doing as close to nothing whatsoever as is possible without entering a state of suspended animation until it was time to head off yet again Manchester-way to meet the National Ugly Mugs team for a catch up. Updates and outcomes will be posted shortly but it’s all going very well indeed, despite the better (and I use the word because I can’t think of an alternative) efforts of some. Cartwheeling down Oxford Street wearing nothing but scuba fins and a Carmen Miranda headdress would be my first choice if I wanted attention, but each to their own.
Back to the present time, and the remainder of this week is largely spoken for bar a couple of appointments on Friday and one Saturday; we have to keep warm here on the North Yorkshire coast somehow and with an hour’s worth of gas central heating soon to cost roughly as much as an hour in the company of yours truly, who would blame anybody for picking the latter? Next week I’m dashing back to Scotland again and it’s been so long since I’ve had a stroll round Edinburgh (and even longer for Glasgow, home of the Weightwatchers-busting pizza crunch) that I’m already absurdly excited, although the amount of actual free time available won’t be known until I get there given the last minute nature of the local punting populace. And there’s always the chance of inclement weather, of course. Not to worry!
More shortly. Oh, and for everyone with it stuck in their head – enjoy…
Subscribe to blog feed.
About the Author: