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satyricaI met up with N, who was on the brink of disappearing into his full-on show period, on Saturday: we niddled around town for a bit, then had tea at Maison Bertaux with his step-Mum and her daughter; after we went our separate ways, I hopped on the train down to Brighton for the evening to see White Room, whose London gig I had missed the night before as it had clashed with the Wombats, play the Haunt down there. I'd seen both the supports before, the woozy Afghan Sand Gang and then Strange Cages, who excited me slightly less the second time around. I had wondered if the trip was bordering on lunacy, especially as I hadn't even been able to make a day of it, but by the time White Room had finished I didn't regret a thing and the train back took me straight through to West Hampstead.
I ended up having no plans for Sunday so I got some stuff done then went to see the Burne Jones exhibition at Tate Britain: it was okay but quite a few large pieces so I ended up zipping round it in little over than an hour, which made it feel quite slight compared to how much time I'd spent in the British Library's (much cheaper) Anglo-Saxon exhibition. I'd also impulse bought a ticket for that evening's Frank Turner gig at Ally Pally, another decision I ended up very pleased to have made, not least because it turned outventa and Chris C were going. Again, I knew both the supports, just about being processed through the queuing system in time to see Grace Petrie, whose banter is almost as endearing as her songs, and Jimmy Eat World, who were wholesomely enjoyable.
I caught up with M, back from Dubai, at home on Monday (and had a lovely long phone-chat with K), went for a curry (Karo's first!) with old Vauxhall friends on Tuesday (although the Griffin has changed again, into an even more horrendous sports bar) and took myself to Hammersmith (for the third time in a day) Wednesday evening to see Leave to Remain at the Lyric: I would call it more of a sung-play (rather than a musical) about a gay relationship with music by Kele Okereke and it certainly managed to cheer me after a frustrating work day. M's Mum has come for the weekend so I've been chatting with them a bit tonight.
I ended up having no plans for Sunday so I got some stuff done then went to see the Burne Jones exhibition at Tate Britain: it was okay but quite a few large pieces so I ended up zipping round it in little over than an hour, which made it feel quite slight compared to how much time I'd spent in the British Library's (much cheaper) Anglo-Saxon exhibition. I'd also impulse bought a ticket for that evening's Frank Turner gig at Ally Pally, another decision I ended up very pleased to have made, not least because it turned out
venta and Chris C were going. Again, I knew both the supports, just about being processed through the queuing system in time to see Grace Petrie, whose banter is almost as endearing as her songs, and Jimmy Eat World, who were wholesomely enjoyable.I caught up with M, back from Dubai, at home on Monday (and had a lovely long phone-chat with K), went for a curry (Karo's first!) with old Vauxhall friends on Tuesday (although the Griffin has changed again, into an even more horrendous sports bar) and took myself to Hammersmith (for the third time in a day) Wednesday evening to see Leave to Remain at the Lyric: I would call it more of a sung-play (rather than a musical) about a gay relationship with music by Kele Okereke and it certainly managed to cheer me after a frustrating work day. M's Mum has come for the weekend so I've been chatting with them a bit tonight.
