from the city to the sea (via The Streets)
The month is almost over, and whilst anything can happen in twenty four hours that ought to be it for me travel-wise for a little while, and I’m more than ready to settle back down here at HQ for a few weeks!
The vastly improving weather definitely helps and between horror films in Edinburgh and gigs, galleries and a couple of cheery morning riverside runs in London it’s been a lot of fun, but the constant rushing around of the last couple of weeks has thoroughly worn me out and a more sedate pace is definitely called for. A lot of sleep has been had over the weekend plus actual food that requires cutlery; whilst the peaceful tranquility of Itsu and their lovely sushi boxes is always a joy since it’s something of a rare treat, the remainder of my diet this last few days has been mostly crabsticks, salt and vinegar crisps with Laughing Cow, oranges and Mars Bars and not even any more Irn Bru. One of these days I’m going to take some Touring Reality photos (and maybe even a sneaky trolley dash video of a towel grab).
I will certainly be back in E1 at some point in the next few months; Whitechapel is still a relatively new location to me, but getting to walk past the Gherkin daily on the way to the bank will never lose its appeal and whilst the torture of being close to Brick Lane and Planet Curry yet not being able to eat it does wear a bit thin, there’s thankfully plenty of alternatives. And a comfortably-paced lollop across Tower Bridge of a morning helps get rid of at least some of it, at least when it stops raining (and not to be outdone by the rain – hailing, as it was shortly after I arrived on Wednesday afternoon, opened my window for some air and came back a few minutes later to little bits of ice scattered on the side) and the sun comes out!
As most people know all work and no play can make anybody a really boring bastard, and I was very happy to sack off Friday in the early for a much anticipated reconvening with The Streets at Brixton Academy – sadly the place was so mobbed (and after countless attendances I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it so busy) I didn’t actually get to see Mike Skinner at all bar the briefest of glimpses, and coupled with my wholly unwise footwear choice given the predictable carnage (not that I had much choice as the lightest traveller I know – my work heels would be been even unwiser) put something of a dampener on things; as always and try as I might I couldn’t avoid getting stood on, and after one stomp too many a swift exit to the back of the room was necessary before my cherished gold Superstars were filthy, scuffed and generally annihilated beyond rescue.
It didn’t quite spoil my evening, but I’ll admit to being fed up enough to have considered leaving before the end. I’m still glad I stayed; without wanting to lurch into muso-wanker territory on a Monday lunchtime (nor, lets face it, at any other time), I can remember the first time I heard the opening strings of Original Pirate Material like it was yesterday. Admittedly it actually took me a minute to decide whether or not I thought it was unstoppable genius or complete shit, but no longer than that, and it was nothing short of joyful to hear it all again, stomping or no stomping.
Therefore, Song Of The Week is dedicated to my long suffering Adidas which after a night in the wars are now back to their old selves, shell toes gleaming happily thanks mostly to my efforts with an old toothbrush and some Jif. I just thank God I didn’t pick out the pale pink ones.
More soon! Here’s to a few weeks of R&R…
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