guys here are two things i have known about myself for a long time:
1. i respond really well to sunlight
2. being around people who visibly enjoy my company makes me energised and stops my brain from eating itself (until afterwards when it goes into overdrive somewhat); sometimes to the point where i become A Bit Manic and talk far too much and too quickly
for some reason, much like "the day after exercise hurts" and "eating food make stomach pain go away" this continually
SATURDAY (remainder): Probably should just accept that sitting on a bus for hours just puts me into a trance in which it's impossible to read or review outlines. At best I just play 2048 obsessively or stare out of the window. I manage a maximum of ten minutes. Saturday, I had absolutely monstrous bus stress (compounded by not reading instructions properly, journey planner being a big liar, Bank being the hell on earth it has always been, and deciding to stop to buy a banana from Starbucks and being stuck behind world's slowest idiot and most conscientious and forgetful barista) and wasted data venting it onto Twitter, but in spite of this AND getting temporarily lost on the very short walk in Rotherhithe - which is very pretty at the moment but unnavigable beyond my ur-bility (that's "innate" but also "urban ability" herf derf) of "find river" (South London is not a real place, the Thames should never be NORTH of one within the city) - I got there slightly early and was almost immediately mistaken by both a M.O.P. and a volunteer for one of the performers. Outfit (& make-up: https://www.instagram.com/p/BaO0gWHhvPa/?taken-by=derekdesanges
) of waistcoat, shirt, (pins: https://www.instagram.com/p/BaO1ucmhBTA/?taken-by=derekdesanges
) and black harem pants standing in for high-waisted wide-leg 30s trousers probably didn't help. Sat with R & C over their dinner and listened to the nightmare that is C's working life (much like J, and indeed H, C's problems stem from imbecilic immediate boss, communication problems, and not having work appreciated fully; I feel oddly alienated as mine basically revolve around my impending obsolescence and complete lack of opportunity for advancement out of this state).
Went down THE SHAFT for the singalong after a brief sojourn to the roof for marshmallow toasting. The garden (full of braziers and burning torches, overseen by some stars, dotted with stumps and herbs? Literally perfect. could not have asked for better) is on the roof of a tunnel shaft made - as Tricity informed me later, having just learnt herself and like me always eager to immediately pass on knowledge - by building the whole shaft and then digging under it so that it sank. Never done before Brunel, but ever since it's been the way to make a tunnel shaft? IKB was a big name where I grew up because of the bridges and the GWR (Great Western Railway, which has been resurrected as a business name because of the stank associations of First Great Western) but this I did not know. https://www.instagram.com/p/BaPIRZThn2J/?taken-by=derekdesanges
multi photo set includes my odious mug ;)https://www.instagram.com/p/BaPjrMnB774/?taken-by=derekdesanges
Lovely singalong slightly marred by two separate sets of people talking constantly behind us, in two separate bloody acts, but elevated by an audience member who took the opportunity to make her Jazz Kazoo Soloist debut in her magnificent and stylish stride; by the mocktails (pictured above) I stuck to all night being delicious; by the amazing acoustics and the chance to finally test out my vocal range around people who won't COMPLAIN CONSTANTLY BECAUSE I'M SINGING; by getting all my marshmallows toasted *just so*, and a conversation with C about indigenous insular plant cuisine and mallow; and lastly by Tricity being delighted to see me (last time was at the Caravan Club many months ago, when I acted the part of Rico in her Copa Cobana ukulele singalong, if you recall) and introduced me to Matthew Floyd-Jones, also known as Mannish, one half of Frisky & Mannish, whom I've loved since I went to see a night which Maud was stage-managing and Suzy was also visiting, at the Café de Paris about 8 or 9 years ago.https://www.instagram.com/p/BaPjjArhWYO/?taken-by=derekdesanges
(multi image set features tricity & kazooist fern, matthew singing about depression, the garden, and the punters leaving at the end of the night, taken from the top of the shaft)https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRAaIIBYgl/?taken-by=derekdesanges
SUNDAY: Scoured the farmers market after breakfast and being asked directions to the football grounds by a man wielding an appropriately football-attired small child, but as I was sans cash and the only thing I wanted really to buy was coffee (which only takes cash) I had to limit myself to hoovering as many free samples as I could (mainly apple, some of the vegan cakes; "How are we this week?" asked Cute Vegan Cake Man, recalling my admittedly memorable constellation of piercings. "Hungover all to balls," I lied, to avoid conversation).https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRQHqZB_WY/?taken-by=derekdesangeshttps://www.instagram.com/p/BaRP6Y1h18b/?taken-by=derekdesanges
After a surprisingly productive bus ride and accidental grocery spree (Co-Op is dangerous), I used my "arrived early" time at the Tate to write the first half of this entry, while sitting on the weird carpeted floor carefully just out of the trajectory of the massive shiny swinging wrecking ball that everyone else was lying underneath because NO THE FUCK THANK YOU. Raced Bear Chris and Holly by text nagging; Chris on motorbike, Holly by Tube. Chris won, because Holly forgot where the tube IS in relation to the gallery, which gave Chris time to interrogate me about "A hole in Rotherhithe?" and "YOU'VE BEEN BLOODY QUIET ABOUT THIS ANTHOLOGY" (I'm superstitious, Chris, if I talk about it in public it will be shitcanned and everyone will think I'm a liar).
Waiting for the swings (that we'd come to have a go on) to come free, I climbed up the supporting poles and turned myself upside down because I will literally do this at every vaguely socially-acceptable opportunity and also I was already slightly more highly-caffeinated than I should have been. Indescribably bad plan. After squats my thighs are a wreck and hanging on got quite difficult. Happily Holly didn't manage to sort out her camera in time to capture me turning into an inverted tomato. Also, not only wired on coffe by SERIOUSLY OVERSTIMULATED. There is also a film on Chris's phone of me "being competitive" and "about to kick me in the head" - I've only met the man a handful of times and already he's formed An Opinion and the Opinion is that I'm violent and competitive. I put this to Lindsay just now and his entire response was "yes, that is accurate".https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRhGuDl3xg/
i was not trying to break it i was merely trying to launch myself into orbit. now. admittedly. i have never seen how high i go before, from this angle. it is. a little alarming.
We also went up to the observation deck of the new wing, 10 floors up in a crowded elevator, which - unlike Monument, St Paul's, the Shard, the Eye, or Oxo Tower, is FREE - and talked architecture, since there was a lot of it around. Not a bad day for it. Amazing views. I haven't uploaded all of them yet but:https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRgPMzh-CB/?taken-by=derekdesangeshttps://www.instagram.com/p/BaRhfDRh-VE/?taken-by=derekdesanges
Chris fucked off to see the art show he'd meant to go to before when stricken with INTESTINES; Holly and I examined the rest of the gallery - well, some of it, there's a lot:https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRfbgwBxYl/?taken-by=derekdesanges
(video: word at the end is bengaluru & believe me sitting on beanbags to watch three videos about beijing, beirut, and bengaluru/bangalore and how those cities impacted the specific artists in the videos was a welcome relief from stairs and yelling... also made me realise suddenly i could just like, pin up more fake ivy in my house? somehow that connection was made. only i can't because i can't find my fucking hammer)https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRfshVBxXg/?taken-by=derekdesanges
and uh, i tried on one of the kids' miffy t-shirts (there is a photo but i haven't uploaded it). for ages 7-8? fits like a belly top and i look distressingly swoll. i want it. it's £15, unlike the bike tyre bag they also have which is £140 or their OUR BEES ON THE ROOF OF THIS BUILDING MADE THIS honey, which i feel is probably also idiotically expensive.
We slowly made out way to the Diwali celebrations in Trafalgar Square via South Bank, please just imagine my NON STOP TALKING (including a brief belly dancing demonstration and Holly revealing that she'd tried teaching herself with a downloaded video while at Uni). The celebrations were as they usually are: loud, crowded, impossible to get to anything, I didn't have cash so couldn't buy the intriguing Spice Essence Oils - you're meant to eat them - or any chai, no chance to get into any of the remaining workshops (too late for bhangra or learning to tie a sari or learning anything about the meaning of Diwali), too hard to get into the comedy tent (overheard: "[something about a woman in the corner], that's my mother actually. Disapproving of my life choices.") although we did get to meet some Hanuman actors with gold tops and blue faces who decided Holly's hair and my piercings were wildly entertaining (Holly has a photo of herself with them in which she is pulling an appalling face). Holly took the whole madness and crowdedness rather better than Jess took Matsuri, which was positively sparse and calm in comparison (I mean, I could make a generalisation about cultural differences as well between India and Japan but eh). https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRx9KHhFLE/?taken-by=derekdesanges
(holly informed me a former colleague had told her she would suit a sari, but holly feels like if she ever wears one DOOM WILL COME; i am like 9000000000000 sure a sari is Just Clothes and that it's only Specific Saris that have important cultural context but also that she's right to fear tone-deaf shouty tumblr).
We walked up to... well, initially to go to Boba Jam but got waylaid; first there was a premiere again (with a protest from BECTU members outside about a living wage, still; signs saying "£80m profits but we can't pay our rent"), and then by See Woo, where an accidental grocery spree happened but like, on the plus side, I have cheap enoki and tofu and goddamn TARO CAKES. THEN to Bobajam. I heroically resisted buying a dessert but had the chai I'd been deprived of earlier and ate some of Holly's cornflakes:https://www.instagram.com/p/BaRxw9bhYrR/?taken-by=derekdesanges
(i'm going back there on my birthday wandering though and i'm going to have something stupid).
Language trivia, since Duolingo has taken me through food recently: not only is "pasta" CAKE in Turkish ("makarna" is pasta) but, slightly more helpfully, çay is "tea" (ç is a "ch" noise), and "bira" (unaccented "i" is always equivalent to the "ee" in "beer", so) is beer...
Conclusion from at least one barracking, circular conversation that took in ... a lot of topics ... was "everyone who wants to be a Revolutionary should read, among other things, Lawrence's account of trying to hold and operate Damascus during the Arab Revolt and perhaps realise that small progress within a stable system in which the system is continually revised and improved upon is preferable to the ETCH A SKETCH END OF WORLD approach even if the latter feels more satisfying when you're emotionally aroused".