Today London, in my view, officially became an unbearable
place in which to live. It has rained all night and on and off all day. We're
expecting some kind of deluge tomorrow and then again on Monday. I found myself
crammed so tightly into a steaming hot tube at 5pm that I genuinely thought I was
going to stop breathing. I couldn't type into my iPhone note-pad without scores
of people looking over my shoulder because they were bored and didn't have the
space to do anything else. Cattle would be prevented from being transported in these conditions.
I managed to twinge some kind of muscle in my back earlier on and have been in discomfort ever since, which hasn't exactly added to my enjoyment of the day. As I got off the tube, I leant down to pick up my little keyboard and the contortion was so painful I emitted a little yelp. What I didn't realise was that the little plastic backing to the battery case was still on the floor. A man prodded me and pointed downwards. I've never wished more for someone to pick something up on my behalf. Obviously my cry of pain hadn't quite been loud enough!
Still, I had a good rehearsal with Julie earlier on, going through her music for the requiem in her mother’s Barbican flat. Earlier still, I found myself sitting on chairs in a soggy Russell Square, watching Nathan singing a little gig in honour of the Small Charities week. He did a very good job, and coped manfully with a rubbish sound system, and the fact that the little awning on the stage area covered everyone’s face when they were performing. The first girl hadn’t realised, and seemed to be just a pair of singing thighs. What I found even more disconcerting was that there was nowhere obvious where I could put a bit of money into a box. Surely the point of a charity event is making money for charity?
I managed to twinge some kind of muscle in my back earlier on and have been in discomfort ever since, which hasn't exactly added to my enjoyment of the day. As I got off the tube, I leant down to pick up my little keyboard and the contortion was so painful I emitted a little yelp. What I didn't realise was that the little plastic backing to the battery case was still on the floor. A man prodded me and pointed downwards. I've never wished more for someone to pick something up on my behalf. Obviously my cry of pain hadn't quite been loud enough!
Still, I had a good rehearsal with Julie earlier on, going through her music for the requiem in her mother’s Barbican flat. Earlier still, I found myself sitting on chairs in a soggy Russell Square, watching Nathan singing a little gig in honour of the Small Charities week. He did a very good job, and coped manfully with a rubbish sound system, and the fact that the little awning on the stage area covered everyone’s face when they were performing. The first girl hadn’t realised, and seemed to be just a pair of singing thighs. What I found even more disconcerting was that there was nowhere obvious where I could put a bit of money into a box. Surely the point of a charity event is making money for charity?
Pepys and his wife Elizabeth spent the day rowing 350 years
ago; primarily because Pepys didn’t like what she’d chosen to wear for church. There
was a great deal of flouncing about; a bit of foot stamping, and a few “high”
words, but all became calm again by bedtime.
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