Wednesday, August 03, 2005
The Five Day Weekend
Day One: frietag was the Sky Summer Party. the reasons to go to this are to prove that this company is full of more than just IT geeks. impressively enough, it seems that it is full of gypos too. perhaps the IT people are so aware of their immediate social weight-penalty from a stigma characterized by sandals and bad hair, that the pendulum has swung full to correct. didn't drink very much, and hung around long enough to get a dozen embarressing pictures of a team lead geezer, one of which included a compromising position and a man in a kilt. then the last tube home.
Day Two: fly to edinburgh on saturday in time to catch dinner with Rocco. after waiting for what could have been hours for the damned tomatoes to boil, and eating an entire loaf of bread through my impatient wait, wine and pasta were consumed. Then sit back, 11pm, with "Brothers In Arms" kicking at an obscene volume, followed by some Pink Floyd and Jimi Hendrix. The moment felt intensely quiet, peaceful and perfect despite the decibels. Renate and Sylvia called, and Rocco was dragged to Pivo for steins. Luigi 'Verde' appeared, and consumed more than his system could manage. Hence verde. When Pivo ejected us, I wandered back to the Small Flat, and texted Bell. "Awake?" "Awake, and taking delivery of fire water. Allah save us" Allah's timetable looked skittish, so I was sub'd in. At 5am I realised that the only housekeys I had fitted a door 500miles away. Not a great deal of use. Taxi back to Bell's, kip on sofa. I remember a conversation about relationships, and what does not kill you really does make you stronger, sharper and more sure of yourself. Everything is good for you.
Day Three: Wake up to massive dehydration, and my second actual drink related head pain in recent years. A flash of inspiration - I knew where my keys were. Taxi to Rocco's, walk back home. 1pm. pass out, and wake in time for drinks with Maundy and company to celebrate getting older. Dinner at pizza express, drink. I was completely preoccupied all night, a fascination with
Day Four: Rocco and I share a passion for Salsa. We stand equidistant from the post of neutrality. I must never go again.
Day Five: Jools Holland. One of the smelliest arm pit reeking events of modern time. Jools is good fun - i really like his stuff. But it reminded me of a documentary I saw of Japanese club culture, where people stood in line, dance movements in synchronicity, choreographed regimentally. It made me think that a least the Japanese _were_ dancing, when we listened motionless and emotionless. Yesterday I had to dance to the ever despised Salsa, and today I was not given the space to dance to Blues. Once again proving Darwinism, with a display of moronism - our heritage. We had dinner at some mediocre Italian restaurant (I am yet to find a superb Italian, which leaves me wondering why Guiliana doesn't open a restaurant). With the crowd volume diminishing, 5 of use headed out to El Barrio. A bongo / bagpipe band came on, as the German tourists looked on in horror. Chris quite rightly pointed out that we were in a movie called Dusk Till Dawn. And all the vampires were the strange women we were surrounded by.
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