more things that have made me smile

Small child on the bus, yesterday, playing peek a boo with the handrails.

Flowerseller at Hammersmith, getting rid of stock so got huge bunch of flowers for a fiver to try and cheer up Katy - AND they haven't started falling apart yet.

Weekend of having an actual social life (of which more later), including revisting Izzard for the first time in AGES, and realising that Ruth and I have met up three weekends in a row.

Being able to start planning another big gay jewish christmas - must get the tree back from John.

John getting a job - HURRAH!!!!!!!

Having two mornings free this week.

Blue tits on the nuts on the tree outside my window - and realising they have different personalities.

FINDING A SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER THAT ACTUALLY STOPS MY HAIR FEELING LIKE STRAW!!!!!!!!!

Spamalot.

The atmos at Lamda.

Realising that hopefully, shortly, i will cease having to listen to colleagues elsewhere making harsh comments on the bodies of the students - surely, if they're working as many hours on physical work as they are, it must be something genetic that they are not all like pipecleaners. And i may have a few stone on them, but at least I can touch my toes without groaning.

EVENING AT A CERTAIN CENTRAL LONDON CLUB

Met up with James Daff over in Islington for his weekly 'curry club' - just a gang of mates getting together at the end of the week. Very good curry house - Rajimoni; highly recommended - and so nice to be out with people my own age, if not more - hadn't realised how limiting going out with students can be, not that I really have since coming down to london. James is now going out with another ex-Brummie, who had blagged us into the 'G' club: i wasn't too sure if i was going to go, but as the evening wore on, I was having a good time, and thought, well, when am I going to get the chance to do this again? so we all piled onthe night bus, into Soho, and in. All looks very nice from the outside,and the downstairs bar has lots of comfy sofas, and a strange man playing harmonica in the corner. But we all get led upstairs to the 'disco'. Oh dear! okay it is about midnight, but this is like a rather cheap wedding just before the lights go on. the music is predominately eighties, unlike the crowd who all seem to be forties, some wearing it accessorized with botox,none with grace or dignity. the room is small and smoky, the music loud and without excitement, lots of middle aged hipsters swaying with eyes closed, apart from a couple of ladies (probably not actually lesbians, but want to wind up the blokes by pretending they are), who are giving it the full strictly come dancing - though without the skill or space. the group from the curry house are all defiantly non-london types (though James desperately wants to be, and fair play - if you want to get on in this business, it helps massively), so we clutch our outrageously expensive drinks, watch this sadness for a while, and decide to risk going downstairs. it is still relatively early, so the bar is fairly empty, and we get a sofa (comfy, i'll give them that!). Ray buys a round, and that's his mortgage money gone for the month - and we all went for soft drinks, I think! We start moaning about the place, when a waiter comes round and puts napkins under all our drinks. Not sure that the tables are ACTUAL chippendale, but hey.
Gradually more people come in, we keep chatting, I end up in HUGE conversation with David, a film director mate of James' - lots of blah about accents, speech, art versus craft; lamenting the modern tendency of art to be about ideas rather than the craft of their execution - prompted by my bumping to the prime example of that in the UK today in the loos, and realising too late the opportunity for a slap. everyone else goes home, except James, who is still shaking his thang with the mutton upstairs, and me and David who are setting the world to rights over cigarettes - cheaper than drinks. Bar is getting very busy now, and there is a small, but loud gaggle of ladies across the room - I look across and the worst thing happens. I realise they are some of my all time female comic heroines. Obviously you can't begrudge them a night onthe lash, but I hate to lose my dignity anyway, and particularly resent it being taken away by drink, so don't like seeing it in others. won't name names, but one in particular is behaving like her most famous creation. it is not what you would like to see in a twenty year old in a local pub, so why should it be any more acceptable in an up-class, middle-class establishment in a well-paid fortysomething female? It is getting time to leave (about three - hee-hee!), so David and I agree to share the nightbus back west. It takes us a while to get out, as a group are clogging up the doorway, mainly surrounding a seriously a-lister,who is gurning his way round the ladies. I am almost tempted to go up and say, 'Excuse me, but didn't you use to go out with HL? what was your name again?', but am getting a bit Grrrrr, so we just slip out and annoy the people on the bus by talking about famous people.
Slight hangover in the morning, but more from the fags than the booze - only had about three, two in the curry house and one in the pub after. None inthe club - NOOOOOO way!
An interesting evening of people watching, but the Prince of Wales behind the Rep is far more me. Am I really a Pov at heart?