A Week in the Life
A lot of the blogs I have been reading lately seem to be more diary like than the random waffling of thoughts that fills mine, so here goes with a diary blog of the last week or so:
Monday I went to a screenwriters seminar in Soho. Quite a good one - I haven't yet found a regular writing group that lives up to the ABCs in Vancouver, so am dipping in and out of various groups and organizations in the hopes of making up for that. It was a talk on thrillers. Nothing desperately groundbreaking, but enough to flick a light on in my brain with regards to the thriller I have had rattling around in my brain for over a year now. I snuck out early and found a pub quiet enough to scribble out the story before the batteries in my brain went out again.
Tuesday, Nick and I went for drinks at Ruby Cube off Leicester Square. Over tacos, other assorted starters and plenty of alcohol we caught up - we hadn't seen each other since his round-the-world trip and my a-bit-of-Australia trip over the summer. Nick recommends Mongolia as a great unknown holiday destination - he says it's gorgeous, well prepared for tourists and yet no one goes there so it is also empty. It is one of the least travelled to countries on earth, which strikes me as a reason to go in itself. We then wandered over to a nearby posh hotel to meet up with a bloke I got to be mates with during my Australia trip, who was in town with work and turned out to be just headed out for dinner with his collegues. I stood on the foot of one of his collegues who was very gracious, and having inflicted some slight bodily harm, we left them to it and went to the bar that used to be Mezzo and is exactly the same now except it is no longer called Mezzo and doesn't seem to have unisex loos any more.
Couple more beers, then Nick (he's a trainee lawyer) had to call it a night, so I wandered off to meet my sister. Found her leaning up against the Trocadero, drunk as a skunk, eating chips. By this point Aussie Mate was finished dinner so I helped Laura finish the chips and we headed back through Soho to his posh hotel. Somewhere on Wardour Street, she decided that I wasn't spruced up enough to go to the posh hotel (in all fairness, my make up had, as it is wont to do, evaporated by 10.30am - honestly I could trowel the stuff on and it still somehow, err, slides off before I have had my third cup of tea of a morning) so she whipped out her make up bag. I decided that I looked quite gorgeous enough thank you very much (I must be the only person who gets beer goggles for myself) so I ran away and she chased me through Soho brandishing a blusher brush.
We made it to the posh hotel, were quite entertained when two smart blokes were turned away from the bar then Laura and I were welcomed in without comment (obviously the blusher helped then - she caught me.) After a fun chat which involved informing Aussie Mate of the various attributes of men of the Commonwealth, something of a specialist subject for my sister and I (we feel we owe it to Queen and Country) we decided to make a move and were staggered to realize that it was 4.30am. A mere five hours later I was sitting at my desk praying for the Apocolypse. Seventeen cups of tea later, it was 5.30pm and time to drag my comatose yet still slightly drunk carcass home to recover with virtuous salad (one positive point about feeling as though toxins are literally oozing out of every pore is that I crave health food) and crap tv.
As usual I've written a War and Peace, so will pick up tomorrow...
