…was the headline on the Evening Standard billboards when I was wandering around Islington this morning looking for a bus. It’s not a headline you hear every day. It turns out that the manic in question was a ‘heavy plant operator’, which at least might explain how he knew how to get hold of a JCB at 7 in the morning, never mind how to drive one.
I’m still in London – well, to be honest, if you read the start of this post, that should be rather obvious. Last night involved an all-you-can-eat Indian vegetarian restaurant, its walls plastered with pro-vegetarian propaganda all over. The food was good, but the propaganda left me wanting to rebel, and sneak off for a quick greasy burger somewhere. And, to be honest, it wasn’t a patch on the greasy-spoon fry-up breakfast I had in Archway on Monday morning. There’s nothing like a greasy-spoon fry-up when you’re feeling slightly hungover and slightly dirty too.
The photos from Sunday’s gig have arrived, but are slightly disappointing: the whole stage was projected with a big purple picture which makes it very hard to see anything at all of the band. The photos of us sitting around in the pub beforehand are, frankly, much better. You’ll have to wait for me to scan them, of course – it really is time I went out and bought a digital camera.