Little one's adventures in the big place
Well, with stsquad away in Ottawa I have had to rely on madness and circumstance for my kicks. Herein lies
Where to start? I'm back on crutches for a bit, since my pre-op assessment for my knee surgery revealed more welling than expected. Frank and I had agreed to play playstation on Friday, specifically Final Fantasy XII. Blah blah, agreed to meet for 8, blah, went for some cocktails, discovered last copy of game in store, sat in a pub, Frank worked late, blah. So, at around 9.45, several whiskey sours and G&Ts later, we sit down to play.
ME: I've got the game, where's your PS2?
FRANK: You're kidding? I don't have one.
ME: Ha ha, where is it?
FRANK: Seriously, get your's out and lets play
ast forward to both of us realising that we now have 3 games and no console. After some discussion, we decided that Frank couldn't come to my place because his new kilt was being couriered over (don't ask) and that I should get the PS2 and return. He gave me all the cash he had (£30) and said go to the main road and grab a taxi, so off I went.
I walked towards the sound of traffic, BIG MISTAKE. After scaling a large embankment and going under a couple of subways, I encountered the road and realised, looking backwards at the signs to the M4, that I was on the A4, a tri-carriageway road with no chance of taxis, or anything stopping. Undaunted I continued walking, hoping for a main street or something. About 500 metres from the Barnes roundabout I got my first break. A van pulled over on the side of the road was a CPS dog unit.
I approached with my most innocent face on and explained that I was some way away from my destination and needed to find a taxi. The polite man explained that he was also lost, having moved to the UK from Romania a fortnight ago. In the end, I agreed to navigate him to Kensington, mostly by guess work, in exchange for him taking me along. Suddenly, just past Earls Court, George (that was his name) exclaimed that he could see a taxi behind us. He stopped in the middle of the road and I leapt out, saying goodbye to him and Lady (the large police alsatian) and entered the taxi from the wrong side. The driver said that this was one of the more surprising methods of hailing a cab he had encountered, and that I'd be lucky to go one way home on £30, let alone there and back. After a quick explanation of my quest, we agreed on Victoria and the tube.
At some cost to my knees, I pelted down the various stairs and escalators and hopped on the waiting southbound train. And waited. and, after 5 or so minutes, an announcement apologised that no more trains would be going south, and that this one was being turned around. Back up the stairs then and then the length of the platform to catch a Balham train with 2 minutes to spare. Suffice to say that after taking every method of transport possible, waving down buses in the street and so forth, I made it back for midnight. Another half hour to hook it up to Pete's labyrinthine personal audio visual setup and we had our game.
And no power in the 'verse was going to stop us playing.
Pete came back through around 8.30, and commented that our conversation ("get the treasure!" "don't forget to heal" "no, go left!" "is that a hyena?"), if it had been recorded, could have been used to elicit confessions from captives without leaving a mark.
By around midday, we agreed that brunch would be pleasant, so off we went.
Saturday was a bit of a battle against sleep, but it involved Mojo Mickybo, a fabulous gem from Owen McCafferty about two boys in Belfast at the start of the Troubles. Two actors in a cast of dozens, we particularly liked the local gang - "Gank-the-Wank" and "Fuckface" - and the bus driver. As ever, the play's entertainment value was increased a thousand-fold by the presence of athena25 and wingsmith,, whose insightful comments during and after combine with coffee to make some really good conversation.
For a special treat, I went to the Barbican with my mum to see Chick Corea and Gary Burton play a really tremendous set. It was recorded for BBC radio 3 and will be played on September 7. If you've ever wondered what a Piano and Vibes, classically influenced jazz duo might sound like then this could be your chance. For those of you who didn't know, Chick was Miles Davies' pianist for a good while, and is quite amazing in his own right. I hadn't come across Gary Burton before, but he was truly spectacular.
Then I slept, nuf said
As an aside, while I was typing this up, I was unfortunate enough to have The Forgotten come on in the background. NEVER WATCH THIS MOVIE. It's just bad.
Hidden with magic, because your browser's worth it!
Where to start? I'm back on crutches for a bit, since my pre-op assessment for my knee surgery revealed more welling than expected. Frank and I had agreed to play playstation on Friday, specifically Final Fantasy XII. Blah blah, agreed to meet for 8, blah, went for some cocktails, discovered last copy of game in store, sat in a pub, Frank worked late, blah. So, at around 9.45, several whiskey sours and G&Ts later, we sit down to play.
ME: I've got the game, where's your PS2?
FRANK: You're kidding? I don't have one.
ME: Ha ha, where is it?
FRANK: Seriously, get your's out and lets play
ast forward to both of us realising that we now have 3 games and no console. After some discussion, we decided that Frank couldn't come to my place because his new kilt was being couriered over (don't ask) and that I should get the PS2 and return. He gave me all the cash he had (£30) and said go to the main road and grab a taxi, so off I went.
I walked towards the sound of traffic, BIG MISTAKE. After scaling a large embankment and going under a couple of subways, I encountered the road and realised, looking backwards at the signs to the M4, that I was on the A4, a tri-carriageway road with no chance of taxis, or anything stopping. Undaunted I continued walking, hoping for a main street or something. About 500 metres from the Barnes roundabout I got my first break. A van pulled over on the side of the road was a CPS dog unit.
I approached with my most innocent face on and explained that I was some way away from my destination and needed to find a taxi. The polite man explained that he was also lost, having moved to the UK from Romania a fortnight ago. In the end, I agreed to navigate him to Kensington, mostly by guess work, in exchange for him taking me along. Suddenly, just past Earls Court, George (that was his name) exclaimed that he could see a taxi behind us. He stopped in the middle of the road and I leapt out, saying goodbye to him and Lady (the large police alsatian) and entered the taxi from the wrong side. The driver said that this was one of the more surprising methods of hailing a cab he had encountered, and that I'd be lucky to go one way home on £30, let alone there and back. After a quick explanation of my quest, we agreed on Victoria and the tube.
At some cost to my knees, I pelted down the various stairs and escalators and hopped on the waiting southbound train. And waited. and, after 5 or so minutes, an announcement apologised that no more trains would be going south, and that this one was being turned around. Back up the stairs then and then the length of the platform to catch a Balham train with 2 minutes to spare. Suffice to say that after taking every method of transport possible, waving down buses in the street and so forth, I made it back for midnight. Another half hour to hook it up to Pete's labyrinthine personal audio visual setup and we had our game.
And no power in the 'verse was going to stop us playing.
Pete came back through around 8.30, and commented that our conversation ("get the treasure!" "don't forget to heal" "no, go left!" "is that a hyena?"), if it had been recorded, could have been used to elicit confessions from captives without leaving a mark.
By around midday, we agreed that brunch would be pleasant, so off we went.
Saturday was a bit of a battle against sleep, but it involved Mojo Mickybo, a fabulous gem from Owen McCafferty about two boys in Belfast at the start of the Troubles. Two actors in a cast of dozens, we particularly liked the local gang - "Gank-the-Wank" and "Fuckface" - and the bus driver. As ever, the play's entertainment value was increased a thousand-fold by the presence of athena25 and wingsmith,, whose insightful comments during and after combine with coffee to make some really good conversation.
For a special treat, I went to the Barbican with my mum to see Chick Corea and Gary Burton play a really tremendous set. It was recorded for BBC radio 3 and will be played on September 7. If you've ever wondered what a Piano and Vibes, classically influenced jazz duo might sound like then this could be your chance. For those of you who didn't know, Chick was Miles Davies' pianist for a good while, and is quite amazing in his own right. I hadn't come across Gary Burton before, but he was truly spectacular.
Then I slept, nuf said
As an aside, while I was typing this up, I was unfortunate enough to have The Forgotten come on in the background. NEVER WATCH THIS MOVIE. It's just bad.
Hidden with magic, because your browser's worth it!