Hogdiggedy Dog

I spent a lot of Friday doing, essentially, nothing.

We had the usual lessons, I messed aournd, did no work, and at last the day ended. We hopped on a train to Staines, where we caught a connection to ol' Twickers. Where we sat for, like, hours, waiting for the others to arrive. Gemma happened to be in the habit of calling everyone "nigga" (in an ironic way, obviously), much to the disgust of most of the people standing on the station. Nice one, Jimjams.

At last, the others arrived, we clambered on to a train, met Phil and Stalker, and went to le Loo de la Water. Mucho yelling about tube stations commenced (as is the custom), and eventually, we started to make our way to the Palace that is often called Alexandra, where Beth and her hardcore posse were waiting for us, with eager feet.

As we went in, it occurred to me that the place was worryingly empty. But no worries, the hallthingy soon filled up, and as we have become accustomed, the squishing began. Lots of squishing. The Non-Blondes were first up (actually quite good, a mon avis), followed by Roots Manouver. Or however you spell it. I do not know. And they were really, really... nice. That's right. Cough. After what seemed like three and a half hours of waiting (which, actually, it was) Franz Ferdinand boarded the stage. It was at this point that I died. Of being squashed. As per usual.

After three or four songs, I could bear it no longer, and so dived into the writhing mass of sweating (and oddly pulsating) bodies, and searched for an exit. Unfortunately, this meant that I was by myself for quite a bit. Luckily, I soon caught sight of Phil and Gemma, and attached myself to them as they pushed their way out of the surging crowd. Beth and Fran were also found, and so we stood with them, dancing etc.

It was more than slightly SUPERFANTASTICO. Holymajoly. Seriously.

What worries me most, however, is the fact that I now think that Alex Kapranos is more than slightly fit. Oh dear. I am in love.

Again.

Their set ended on This Fire (amazing, amazing, AMAZING), and we bused and tubed back to Waterloo. Where we just managed to catch the LAST TRAIN OF THE NIGHT. By the skin of our teeth. Luckily, it was going to Hill of Strawb. Fati's mother picked us up, and we descended on her house, eating lasanga (not pizza, Fati) and getting into pjs. By the time we went to sleep, it was nearly 3 am.

Chloe woke us all at 6:30. I was not a happy man.

After mucho complainingnesses, we were forced to eat pancakes. Slave drivers.

I went home, got my report (seriously, I am a proper geek now) and shimmied down to the Town of Kings, for a spot of Christmas shopping avec mes amies. Mark and Matt joined us (Who? you may ask. Well, some random train people that have attached themselves to Abi and Emma, respectively. Nice chaps, I think. But... a little odd, maybe) and so the shopping disintergrated. Rozza and I trundled off, bought stuff, were joined by Emma, bought more stuff, and then I went home.

Shrugs.






//Not relevant.