Well, Friday night I was DJing in Folkestone at the harp club which was a bit like a biker bar from a 70's Larry Cohen exploitation film; it had a motorhead logo on the wall with a panty liner pinned underneath; it smelt of BO and beer mixed with stale cigarette smoke and all the seats had rips in them; dogs wandered around and there were many people with piercings in places I would only rub moisturiser into and tattoos in others I would only have my shirt sleeves over; a fluorescent light made everyone's skin look like they were extras from night of the living dead; it stayed open really late and you had to get out through a side door; on the street, down the hill a bit, teenagers brawled and shouted and the temperature was freezing but they were all wearing nice shirts.
I really enjoyed myself actually in that ooh must stay straight so I get out of this godforsaken town as soon as the needle is off my last record kind of vibe; luckily the people there made everything alright; having left my tobacco in the car I spent most of my set frantically trying to get stoney to get me a pint and a fag and being rather thirsty swallowed a lot; I'd bought some new records so was listening to new tunes; Stoney was depressed because his mate who was 53 was found dead and they said he was as fit as could be; he'd caught some superbug and it killed him; It was also Sara's birthday but she didn't bother to come despite the fact that she said she would but never mind. Ey. Instead, I heard, Linda came round to hers with a bottle of something or other spirit and they sat in and drank it on their own.
Much as I'd sat and watched Sara drink a bottle of tequila the week before I went off to the brenley barn party after having a smoke with Sara. I took a car full down which included a rather upset Rosie who had, just hours before, had an horrendous punch up and hair pulling and shouting session in the street with the harradan Julia Patterson. Apparently she mentioned Simone. It must have been the full moon that night. Also in the car was Cagey who, when we went into the club, went to the bar and bought me a pint but ignored Rosie and Tort standing next to me and didn't buy them one. How quaint? Later, at home around 3am, he said how he enjoyed wetting people by driving past puddles in his lorry and splashing them a la Bridget Jones's new movie. Tort, who had a pint of water in her hand, said later, that she was temped to pour the water on his head and go 'how do you like it' but she didn't and later we still laughed at the image anyway.
Saturday Night was spent cooking a fine yellow bean curry with a bit of monkfish cut into chunks, some coconut milk, a few bits of nice vegetables in season accompanied by some fat rice noodles all washed down with 2 bottles of spot on wine which I got at tescos earlier in a 2 for £8 reduced from £12 special, ooh, and a pear tart to follow then a bit of watching not very much on TV. Started falling asleep in front the 3 marias on BBC4 which is a Brazilian revenge western with a twist. The twist being it was really violent but it was women being violent so that's OK, I guess, in a post modernist kinda way?
Sunday, after a long lie in and a loll around reading the papers and eating breakfast, with the central heating on full blast, listening to Spooney and Vernon on radio 1, they are funny them two but in different ways, both bad, but funny, I went to Dukes and met a few people including Cathy and Brummy John where we talked a bit and John told of the flat he's buying and doing up in hernia bay with the help of his parents who in the morning said it looks like snow and fucked off back to Birmingham leaving the half redecorated bathroom unfinished; he wasn't happy; and then went and watched Nigel hobbins in the stables annexe play his guitar and sing; so that was nice.
I came home around 3 to cook Sunday roast vegetables with a quorn pie. That was nice too. Sunday night I watched my favourite show, Huff, on channel FX289, on TV and also the third episode of Joey, the spin off from Friends, that I really wanted to be good but is only OK. Which is a shame.
Monday, today, about 20cm of snow fell overnight and it was the coldest night of the winter the weather people said; they were loving it; the Thanet way was blocked and no trains went past my house; so I took the day off work. In the morning I worked on my maths assignment to be handed in when I go to night school Tuesday night. In the afternoon I went for lunch into town at Tea and Times and had a roast vegetable and mozzarella panini and salad. I looked around a few charity shops after to see if I could pick up a check shirt and cowboy hat for Emily Bagpusses party next week, also at Brenley Barn.
The theme being the wild west and me being particularly bad a fancy dress parties and all that kinda stuff. I may have to settle on a fake moustache and a bandanna round my neck. Just for a cheap laugh. I bumped into Terry who was also taking the day off. The kids on the estate were having one big snowballfight and I read in the paper that a boy had made a big snowman which rolled on top him and killed him. Bizarre. After college on Tuesday night, which is in Thanet,
I'm going to Jon and Jayne's to talk to him about setting up his website so he can sell prints of his work on. I may, if I'm lucky, get fed and watered. Which will be nice.