My weekend, and other stories...
My weekend, away from the pretend people…
This is more a collection of snippets than anything else.
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A man in Kathmandu once told me ‘he who eats alone, dies alone’. I didn’t know this guy. He was just one of the random hippies who hung around Thamel, which was the tourist district. He had dirty blond dreadlocks, a German accent, some kind of woven shirt with the eyes of Buddha embroidered on the collar and was being very disapproving of me for eating alone in one of the nicer cafés. I think it might have been the German bakery, which did awesome bagels, fresh baked and served with cool salted butter.
I wasn’t terribly convinced by him then and I’m not convinced now. I think there’s something oddly liberating about eating alone. It’s nice, sometimes, to be in your own company.
On Friday I was meant to be going to Garlic & Shots to celebrate seph_hazard’s birthday. This was a good plan, and only slightly mucked up by traffic being a pig and my managing to get home late, thus making everyone in my car a bit late. I then got to G&S and discovered that the whole place was like some kind of special torture chamber set up for claustrophobics.
As an aside, it’s stupid the things that scare me. Foreign countries, bucking horses, troubled children who throw rocks at me are not scary. Small enclosed places in the centre of London are, apparently, terrifying.
I walked in, turned around, and walked out to go to the loo in the hopes that that might calm me. I walked back in, and realized that the bar was still small, dark, crowded, underground, and filled with strong smells and loud noises which were putting my senses on overload.
So I fled. This was crappy of me and I feel quite bad about it, but I kinda felt that sitting in the corner being histrionic was probably not going to contribute to anyone’s birthday. As I’d offered Pierot a lift back from town to Goblintown, I decided to wait around for a bit, and so went wandering around Soho.
And that was when I remembered how oddly nice it can be sometimes to be a strange and solitary face in the crowd. You get to watch people as they come and go. You get to think your own thoughts without interruption. You get to have cake first and then dinner afterwards, whilst scribbling down notes about whether or not swan maidens should be able to take a man’s head off with one arm. I found that the vegan Chinese place which used to be just off Tottenham Court Road has not closed down, but just moved to Soho. I had noodles and fake duck which tasted good, and fried aubergine which wasn’t quite as nice but was still satisfying. I peered at various other places, and sat in Café Valerie for a bit, watching people come and go.
Then I had to collect my car and drive over London to meet jez at the College Arms which was absolutely terrifying. But that is totally another story.
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It disturbs me, on some level, that so far the strongest and most kick ass female character in all the Marvel Films which have been released so far would appear to be the nice British girl from the 1940s in Captain America.
Maybe women were just cooler back then? I mean, going through cinematic history, I’m noticing a theme. Indiana Jones’ Marion Ravenwood was a pile of awesome and incredible who became one of my earlier role models, and apparently spent the late 1930s travelling, running her own business, punching out Nazis, drinking grown men unapologetically under the table, and living a life of independence that most women in cinema cannot hope for today. The Mummy’s Evie was a serious and scholarly academic, utterly unashamed of her own cleverness, who was tough without needing to do high kicks in a short skirt. I can’t think of many other Hollywood heroines who fight their way through adventures, armed with book and glasses.
And now we have Peggy Carter, who gets to go into battle in WW2, with her pistol in hand. She has a senior role in military intelligence, a sharp tongue, a good brain, and also has time to create sizzling sexual chemistry with Captain America, from his wimpy beginnings to his pulp action heroic climax.
Clearly, women’s rights and emancipation peaked around 1943 and have just been going downhill ever since. This is what Hollywood tells me!
******************
Speaking of eating, can I just say that food-wise, I have had an awesome weekend. Vegan Chinese on Friday, dim sum at Rainbow in Hatfield with fantastic people on Saturday and then Tinseltown with Abi and Jeremiah on Sunday. Oh, and a demented late night run to Tesco with Jeremiah to get cheesecake, where we managed to run into Sainsburys just as they closed the doors.
I do like food. It makes the size of my belly seem worth it, somehow…
******************
So, anyway, that was my weekend. How was yours?
This is more a collection of snippets than anything else.
******************
A man in Kathmandu once told me ‘he who eats alone, dies alone’. I didn’t know this guy. He was just one of the random hippies who hung around Thamel, which was the tourist district. He had dirty blond dreadlocks, a German accent, some kind of woven shirt with the eyes of Buddha embroidered on the collar and was being very disapproving of me for eating alone in one of the nicer cafés. I think it might have been the German bakery, which did awesome bagels, fresh baked and served with cool salted butter.
I wasn’t terribly convinced by him then and I’m not convinced now. I think there’s something oddly liberating about eating alone. It’s nice, sometimes, to be in your own company.
On Friday I was meant to be going to Garlic & Shots to celebrate seph_hazard’s birthday. This was a good plan, and only slightly mucked up by traffic being a pig and my managing to get home late, thus making everyone in my car a bit late. I then got to G&S and discovered that the whole place was like some kind of special torture chamber set up for claustrophobics.
As an aside, it’s stupid the things that scare me. Foreign countries, bucking horses, troubled children who throw rocks at me are not scary. Small enclosed places in the centre of London are, apparently, terrifying.
I walked in, turned around, and walked out to go to the loo in the hopes that that might calm me. I walked back in, and realized that the bar was still small, dark, crowded, underground, and filled with strong smells and loud noises which were putting my senses on overload.
So I fled. This was crappy of me and I feel quite bad about it, but I kinda felt that sitting in the corner being histrionic was probably not going to contribute to anyone’s birthday. As I’d offered Pierot a lift back from town to Goblintown, I decided to wait around for a bit, and so went wandering around Soho.
And that was when I remembered how oddly nice it can be sometimes to be a strange and solitary face in the crowd. You get to watch people as they come and go. You get to think your own thoughts without interruption. You get to have cake first and then dinner afterwards, whilst scribbling down notes about whether or not swan maidens should be able to take a man’s head off with one arm. I found that the vegan Chinese place which used to be just off Tottenham Court Road has not closed down, but just moved to Soho. I had noodles and fake duck which tasted good, and fried aubergine which wasn’t quite as nice but was still satisfying. I peered at various other places, and sat in Café Valerie for a bit, watching people come and go.
Then I had to collect my car and drive over London to meet jez at the College Arms which was absolutely terrifying. But that is totally another story.
******************
It disturbs me, on some level, that so far the strongest and most kick ass female character in all the Marvel Films which have been released so far would appear to be the nice British girl from the 1940s in Captain America.
Maybe women were just cooler back then? I mean, going through cinematic history, I’m noticing a theme. Indiana Jones’ Marion Ravenwood was a pile of awesome and incredible who became one of my earlier role models, and apparently spent the late 1930s travelling, running her own business, punching out Nazis, drinking grown men unapologetically under the table, and living a life of independence that most women in cinema cannot hope for today. The Mummy’s Evie was a serious and scholarly academic, utterly unashamed of her own cleverness, who was tough without needing to do high kicks in a short skirt. I can’t think of many other Hollywood heroines who fight their way through adventures, armed with book and glasses.
And now we have Peggy Carter, who gets to go into battle in WW2, with her pistol in hand. She has a senior role in military intelligence, a sharp tongue, a good brain, and also has time to create sizzling sexual chemistry with Captain America, from his wimpy beginnings to his pulp action heroic climax.
Clearly, women’s rights and emancipation peaked around 1943 and have just been going downhill ever since. This is what Hollywood tells me!
******************
Speaking of eating, can I just say that food-wise, I have had an awesome weekend. Vegan Chinese on Friday, dim sum at Rainbow in Hatfield with fantastic people on Saturday and then Tinseltown with Abi and Jeremiah on Sunday. Oh, and a demented late night run to Tesco with Jeremiah to get cheesecake, where we managed to run into Sainsburys just as they closed the doors.
I do like food. It makes the size of my belly seem worth it, somehow…
******************
So, anyway, that was my weekend. How was yours?