I'm waiting for a bus in Islington. Typical Upper Street. The bus stop comes complete with a rather fetching, bright red bench! It's the only place in London where you can sit in complete comfort whilst waiting for your bus.
I've been coughing and spluttering all day and am beginning to truly sympathise with Nathan, who went through this hell for five solid weeks.
I had lunch with my friend, Penny today. She treated me to a meal at Les Trois Garcons, which is one of the poshest restaurants in East London. I'm not usually a fan of fancy food, but the mushroom gnocchi was something else. It was fabulous to be there with her. Our table was in a great big pool of sunlight, and crystals in the window were filling the space with tiny dancing rainbows. We put the world to rights and planned all sorts of exciting schemes for the future. I adore Penny.
I'm a great deal happier today. Sure, yesterday we discovered that our MOT bill was actually over £1000, which is simply money we don't have, but, we have each other and I have fabulous supporters and brilliant friends. It's early days, but it may even end up being that the Choir Invisible did me a massive favour by royally shafting me in court! There's a huge amount of sympathy coming at me from people who think the verdict was "disappointing to say the least," and the Musicians' Union have even offered to pay my court costs. It's a mere drop in the ocean in terms of the ridiculous amount I still need to find, but it's a massive morale boost. Right from the start of this sorry business, the MU have been extraordinary. I would urge any musician reading this blog to sign up immediately, not just because I believe everyone should be the member of a union, but because they're one of the strongest unions out there. You even get to vote on Labour leadership elections!
In terms of finding the rest of the money, I think plans are afoot to have some kind of concert where the work, which caused the choir so many problems, would get its long-awaited premier. We may need to change the lyrics, which, of course, were written so specifically for the choir that they wouldn't work for any other group. It would, however, be lovely to think that the piece could have a future. I think it would be very popular with good amateur choirs.
Anyway, I digress. It's brother Edward's birthday today, so I went from Hoxton, via the new East London line, to his house in Canary Wharf, where my parents were hanging out. We watched our favourite show, Pointless, but the most interesting-looking couple went out in the first round. (I say it's my favourite show, but nothing in the world competes with The Great British Bake Off.) We went from Canary Wharf to Islington for dinner in a Turkish restaurant and it was here that my cold started to bother me again.
Still, I can't complain. My friend Matt is currently in hospital on morphine because he's had some kind of dreadful bug. The morphine's making him feel like the Pilsbury Dough Man, and he had an email from his agent earlier in the week suggesting he refrain from tweeting whilst under its influence! Too much information, one assumes, for his fans!
350 years ago, and Pepys took delivery of a winter's worth of coals, which for the record was 10 chaldron - which I assume is one of those random old-school measurements that my brother despises so intensely. For ages, I was reading the word as children, which I think would have been a great deal more entertaining. I love the idea of Pepys taking delivery of ten children.
Half way through the day, he was ordered by his father to go back to Huntingdon. That blinking will was still causing problems...