Ging ge ge ging ging ging ging ge ging

Remember me?

Hello. Sorry I’ve not been in touch lately. It’s been a bit hectic.

The Christmas festivities kicked off on Tuesday, and sure enough I’ve ended up out every night since – hence the lack of chat.

Tuesday: Christmas arrived early in Regent Street, as I fulfilled a childhood dream of watching the Christmas lights get turned on. Unfortunately, Shane Richie doesn’t have quite the clout with my 29 year old mind as Bananarama or the cast of Press Gang would have had in my formative years, and the whole thing was a bit of a let down. Shane, Ian McKellen and Andy Serkis came out, talked into a faulty microphone for 2 minutes, and then flicked the switch, ten minutes ahead of schedule. The fireworks were nice right enough.

Wednesday: Went to Koko in Camden to see Aim. The little button twiddler behind the group looks surprisingly like Moby, and the crowd looked surprisingly how I’d imagine a Moby crowd to look. For the first time in years I was one of the youngest people there. Lots of posh twats, including one hilarious South African, who was probably called Henry, who had the best posh-boy horsey teeth I’ve ever seen! He even brayed when he laughed, and was so loud that when he talked to his girl-friend/sister (I’m not sure which, probably one and the same), we could hear him over the music. He wore his scarf for the entuire concert. Aim were a bit dull to be honest – the female singer is very competent and tried her best, but there was just no energy or atmosphere at all. Plus they relied almost completely on their repertoire of jazzy instrumentals and slow warbling numbers, ignoring all their hip-hoppy-influenced stuff. The one time they let the big Rasta dude out on stage, the whole crowd went mental – would have been nice to see more him. Koko is an amazing venue though – an old theatre with most of the original features (except seats, obviously. That would be stupid).

Last night: our annual "Oscars" awards at work, held in the pleasantly named Balls Brothers wine bar on Mincing Lane. It was a good night, bizarrely – everyone was on good form, I performed a particularly cringe-worthy dance with my boss in the middle of a big circle of managers where she waggled her free bar pass at me and I pretended I was trying to lure it away from her…. Oh god, the shame. The worst thing was that most people didn’t get the "joke" and thought I was cracking on to her. I’m gonna get myself a reputation. Made it back to Brixton in time to meet Craig, Pino & Stella, almost get in a fight with a gang of hoodies in a chicken shop (thanks Craig) and leave my bag in the pub, meaning I had to wake my flatmate up at 1am to let me in. All in all, a successful evening!