If the bottom of the bottle wasn't quite found on Wednesday night, yesterday not only was it located but I booked in at reception for a long holiday. My three-day bender culminated in a post-midnight, utterly inebriated rant at the (admittedly odious) barman of an extremely down-market local tavern; forcing our untimely removal from said premises and a junior colleague to slip in a puddle of vomit, land in the vomit, and possibly break her elbow. Nobody ever said that the media industry isn't glamorous. But they should have done. Because it isn't.
(While I remember; Clare came in today with a big graze on her chin. I've told everyone I know that she cut herself shaving. Guys from The Telegraph, Channel 4 and Facebook all believed me. Imogen from Google was too canny. I used to work with her on The Samaritans though, so her knowledge of my methods constitutes an extenuating circumstance...)
Now though, a lovely weekend of serenity and calm. I'm hoping for another of my Secret Sundays; which can only be achieved when everyone is out, the living room window is open behind the curtains, and all is at least satisfactory in the world, if not right. The required conditions are:
- Sofa
- Either sunshine or heavy rain outside
- Book (in this case Emma by Jane Austen, which I'm actually really enjoying)
- Cigarettes
- Green tea
- Janis Joplin on Honksy's record player
- Tottenham Hotspur winning on the television set (muted)
Possible perfection? Maybe not. But I've always believed that it's the small pleasures that make life bearable......and while mine certainly isn't worthwhile, at least in these instances it isn't worthless.
On that note, although I've probably experienced it a hundred or so times in my life, I've discovered the most amazing smell. Recently extinguished birthday candles. Don't know how it escaped me previously, but I think I'm hooked. Cheaper than crack I suppose. But less discreet to administer in the alley behind the supermarket.
Finally, I wrote this today:
'Cowboys wear chaps and shiny white spurs,
Undertakers tie their ties gravely,
Jockeys with hooves wear horses in shoes,
But I wear the smile that you gave me.'
Stupid, obviously. And awful. And not intended for you. I would even go so far as to say 'heinous,' but I've been informed recently that said anachronistic adjective appears too frequently in these letters, so due to my lack of a suitably varied vocabulary you may just have to settle with dire. My apologies.
Your loving friend,
Action Squid
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