(no subject)
It has, of course, been far too hot to be sitting inside blogging, but I am still alive and listening to the Madonna album WAY too much. I absolutely love it.
Nothing particualrly radical has happened. Saw the Tunisian again last weekend. I'd been at the Col then a party at the P which was largely uneventful when he started texting me. He caught me drunk and feeling particularly mankrupt. His texts were all ambiguous and flirty and I was in no mood to field them in a similar manner. 'Are you coming round then?' I fired back in a cut-the-crap frame of mind. And so it came to be that he arrived at the dank basement in the sky at 2am and immediately rolled up the largest spliff I have ever seen. 'It's the Tunsian way' he smirked. Can't stand the stuff myself, and it has rather put me off him - it's not nice to see those big brown eyes all bloodshot and dopey-lidded. But he stayed till lunchtime the next day, his massive feet sticking out the bottom of my bed. The man is a colossus. He really wound me up the next day by critising my chosen bedroom scheme. 'Black is a nice colour for clothes, but for a room, not so much' he declared. 'It's Craig and Rose charcoal fucking grey' I growled before ushering him out of the door as he sloped off for some posh lunchdate in Notting Hill. Apart from when he was speaking on the phone in really dirty sounding gutteral French, I just feel rather apathetic toward him and can see absolutely zero benefit in pursuing any kind of bond with him.
I have a raft of new men friends thanks to the 'Save the Colony' facebook group - there are hundreds of people joined up and as a result the friend requests have been a-flying including the slightly odd man that plays the piano in Jerrys sometimes. I got chatting to him last weekend and was quite enamoured of him until Gadget told me a slightly icky story about him involving two girls and some ill-advised tight leather shorts. Hmm.
Had hysterical leaving drinks for Ric last Saturday at a pub in Borough, I don't think I have laughed so much in ages. It was all the old gang plus we were sat next to Nigel Harman, Reese Shearsmith and James Dreyfuss who were getting unbelievably hammered on shots and ogling Ric when he stood up after being accused by Greg of having a 'bubble butt'.
The next day we all went for a picnic on Primrose Hill and got royally pissed on about 10 bottles of screwtop rose. Back to M and I's after for some Wii chaos and general arseing about.
The next morning, bank holiday, Stef texted double early and we partook of a dip at Shoreditch House then sat eating our low carb breakfasts and spying on Meg Matthews and Sadie Frost who were dragging assorted children round the bowling alley and pool. Anais(?) is very pretty and very precocious - she kept screaming BUT MUMMY I WANTED EGGS BENEDICT! I'm sure at that age I was nowhere near such culinary enlightment. We mooched about for the rest of the day on the roof of S's apartment block avoiding the lithe Eastern European cleaner who patently fancies S, but who blew it by getting really angry about there being no kitchen roll.
Long hot week at work, lifted by the joy of being able to finally roll out my summer wardrobe and by my boss writing lovely things things about me in my *personal development review*.
Friday night went for drinks after work with J and K on the roof at Soho House which was just lovely. Jumped on a 73, lightly pissed with K and went to Gwen and Stu's birthday party at the Alma which was lots of fun. A rare appearance from the legend that is Fluffy T really made the night, as well as assorted oddball guests including a predatory bisexual in awful cheap shoes who kept asking everyone if they had been naughty and ergo needed spanking. Then an after party at Stu's trendy warehouse pad in Stokey. By 2am I was no longer really capable of proper social interaction so cabbed off into the night.
Then yesterday I discovered a whole new section of London I have never been to before; the St John conservation area near Lewisham. The Earl and the Countess have identified this as where they want to have their new family home and we spent an entertaining afternoon nosing round people's awful ideas of furniture and belongings as well as dealing with a succession of silver-tongued estate agents. It was hilaire! And a really nice area - by some fluke it is still counted as zone 2.
Just been swimming, sadly not on the roof with z list celebs as S is away in Tuscany so I had to make do with the council faclities. I think I'm going off to the park now to meet Lou as it really is criminal to be indoors on a day like ths - we've all optimistically been wondering if this is IT for the summer - and there are Sunday papers and mini Scotch eggs to be consumed...
Nothing particualrly radical has happened. Saw the Tunisian again last weekend. I'd been at the Col then a party at the P which was largely uneventful when he started texting me. He caught me drunk and feeling particularly mankrupt. His texts were all ambiguous and flirty and I was in no mood to field them in a similar manner. 'Are you coming round then?' I fired back in a cut-the-crap frame of mind. And so it came to be that he arrived at the dank basement in the sky at 2am and immediately rolled up the largest spliff I have ever seen. 'It's the Tunsian way' he smirked. Can't stand the stuff myself, and it has rather put me off him - it's not nice to see those big brown eyes all bloodshot and dopey-lidded. But he stayed till lunchtime the next day, his massive feet sticking out the bottom of my bed. The man is a colossus. He really wound me up the next day by critising my chosen bedroom scheme. 'Black is a nice colour for clothes, but for a room, not so much' he declared. 'It's Craig and Rose charcoal fucking grey' I growled before ushering him out of the door as he sloped off for some posh lunchdate in Notting Hill. Apart from when he was speaking on the phone in really dirty sounding gutteral French, I just feel rather apathetic toward him and can see absolutely zero benefit in pursuing any kind of bond with him.
I have a raft of new men friends thanks to the 'Save the Colony' facebook group - there are hundreds of people joined up and as a result the friend requests have been a-flying including the slightly odd man that plays the piano in Jerrys sometimes. I got chatting to him last weekend and was quite enamoured of him until Gadget told me a slightly icky story about him involving two girls and some ill-advised tight leather shorts. Hmm.
Had hysterical leaving drinks for Ric last Saturday at a pub in Borough, I don't think I have laughed so much in ages. It was all the old gang plus we were sat next to Nigel Harman, Reese Shearsmith and James Dreyfuss who were getting unbelievably hammered on shots and ogling Ric when he stood up after being accused by Greg of having a 'bubble butt'.
The next day we all went for a picnic on Primrose Hill and got royally pissed on about 10 bottles of screwtop rose. Back to M and I's after for some Wii chaos and general arseing about.
The next morning, bank holiday, Stef texted double early and we partook of a dip at Shoreditch House then sat eating our low carb breakfasts and spying on Meg Matthews and Sadie Frost who were dragging assorted children round the bowling alley and pool. Anais(?) is very pretty and very precocious - she kept screaming BUT MUMMY I WANTED EGGS BENEDICT! I'm sure at that age I was nowhere near such culinary enlightment. We mooched about for the rest of the day on the roof of S's apartment block avoiding the lithe Eastern European cleaner who patently fancies S, but who blew it by getting really angry about there being no kitchen roll.
Long hot week at work, lifted by the joy of being able to finally roll out my summer wardrobe and by my boss writing lovely things things about me in my *personal development review*.
Friday night went for drinks after work with J and K on the roof at Soho House which was just lovely. Jumped on a 73, lightly pissed with K and went to Gwen and Stu's birthday party at the Alma which was lots of fun. A rare appearance from the legend that is Fluffy T really made the night, as well as assorted oddball guests including a predatory bisexual in awful cheap shoes who kept asking everyone if they had been naughty and ergo needed spanking. Then an after party at Stu's trendy warehouse pad in Stokey. By 2am I was no longer really capable of proper social interaction so cabbed off into the night.
Then yesterday I discovered a whole new section of London I have never been to before; the St John conservation area near Lewisham. The Earl and the Countess have identified this as where they want to have their new family home and we spent an entertaining afternoon nosing round people's awful ideas of furniture and belongings as well as dealing with a succession of silver-tongued estate agents. It was hilaire! And a really nice area - by some fluke it is still counted as zone 2.
Just been swimming, sadly not on the roof with z list celebs as S is away in Tuscany so I had to make do with the council faclities. I think I'm going off to the park now to meet Lou as it really is criminal to be indoors on a day like ths - we've all optimistically been wondering if this is IT for the summer - and there are Sunday papers and mini Scotch eggs to be consumed...