Couple of housekeeping things with a London bias, sorry.
1. Tall Tales
I am appearing at this thing organised by Mr Robbie Sexy Mermaid Hudson (that is his real name) on Thursday 25 March at a public house in Kilburn. My part will be very short and ridiculous. I don't really know how to do performance type things. I have always managed to evade the public speaking training at work, because they video you making a short presentation. In my mind the words "they video you making a short presentation" are mysteriously transmuted into "they rip out your viscera with their bare hands and toast them on pitchforks in front of you". That's how much I enjoy that kind of thing. I have agreed to do it because I want to get out of the house and meet other human beings. Seriously, try me. Suggest I come and muck out your turkey shed, I'll almost certainly say yes if you can guarantee me conversation with adults. Or turkeys. Or the pitchfork.
Anyway. The rest of it sounds pretty fantastic. If anyone wishes to go, you can get the tickets from the email address provided by Mr RSM Hudson following that Tall Tales link. Possibly. They other popular people's fans may have already taken all the tickets. I'll be shit anyway, and that's not me being self-deprecating. But the other stuff will be EXCELLENT.
With my Cruel Tea arse pinny on, I'll be going to this to sell arse biscuits, cosies, magnets and aprons at this event on Sunday 28th March. It sounds really good. Probably quite strange. I will embrace the strange and try to sell it a rude biscuit. If you do come along, do please come and say hello. I will talk to turkeys or agricultural implements at the moment as explained above, so actual humans will be rapturously welcome. I can't guarantee I'll manage to form sentences, but, oh, I'll be so pleased to see you.
But for now, nearly 2 weeks in Belgeland beckons and I definitely need to make my own entertainment using only expired luncheon vouchers, 23 centimes and some rotting vegetables. On the strength of tonight, nothing very edifying seems likely to happen. I will, at least, try to shout less and write more. But I would like to have a little fun too... Go on, suggest things I can do to stop myself necking gin straight from the bottle and crying in bed by Tuesday. I obviously need a challenge.