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Brighton Bokk
May. 25th, 2006 08:50 amI didn't play poker yesterday. I think that that was only the second or third day this year when I failed to play a single hand. I didn't miss it, and I should do it more often.
As Geoff noted in a post below from yesterday, it's no good me putting in "so some unspecified other activity instead". You need to have another activity. In this case it was a trip down to Brighton with Steves Bartley and Bennett, Jo and her daughter's nanny, Tash. We went to see Mark Thomas's show "How I Became An Arms Dealer".
That we managed to get to see it at all since Bennett was in charge of the tickets and our main problem was that (a) it was pissing down with rain and (2) we dodn't know where the venue was. Eventually we were saved, soaked, by a couple of cabs.
I lived in Tankerton near Whitstable for my first year at university. I know what being a hundred yards from the sea can do to you when the wind is lashing and the rain is pouring. I had vaguely hoped never to experience it again, but last night condemned me to one last suffering. It felt more like November than the end of May.
I'd meant to take some photos, but for reasons probably related to tiredness and chatting too much, I forgot.
Tash is an Australian with a British passport. She doesn't like British chocolate, but she does like lollies, particularly "Swedish Fish", which she could buy in the US rather than in Australia. Needless to say, in my innocence, I thought that she was actually referring to Swedish fish. But, no. Apparently it's some kind of gummi that is red and shaped like a fish. Not, as I imagined in my five-minute gibbering, a kind of roll-mop. Tash promised to bring me some real Australian chocolate if I promised to buy a new mobile phone. An odd deal, but, hell, life's meant to be odd.
Mark Thomas, a comedian whom I have tended to avoid on TV, is very good, and the surrealism of his tales of involvement in the arms trade made for a good hour and a half or so. He does a nice range of accents and created some marvellous characters, including a kind of "Tim Nice But Dim" PR guy for the arms trade called Angus Taverner.
Unfortunately we ended up on a train leaving Brighton at 11.07pm that decided to stop at stations that we were sure didn't exist last week, and arrive at Victoria just a short time before I was scheduled to get up. Luckily a night bus arrived straight away and I was in bed just before 2am.
Going out is more expensive than staying in and its considerably more expensive than staying in and churning out the grind at online poker. It's also a lot more exhausting and a lot more fun. I should do it more often.
As Geoff noted in a post below from yesterday, it's no good me putting in "so some unspecified other activity instead". You need to have another activity. In this case it was a trip down to Brighton with Steves Bartley and Bennett, Jo and her daughter's nanny, Tash. We went to see Mark Thomas's show "How I Became An Arms Dealer".
That we managed to get to see it at all since Bennett was in charge of the tickets and our main problem was that (a) it was pissing down with rain and (2) we dodn't know where the venue was. Eventually we were saved, soaked, by a couple of cabs.
I lived in Tankerton near Whitstable for my first year at university. I know what being a hundred yards from the sea can do to you when the wind is lashing and the rain is pouring. I had vaguely hoped never to experience it again, but last night condemned me to one last suffering. It felt more like November than the end of May.
I'd meant to take some photos, but for reasons probably related to tiredness and chatting too much, I forgot.
Tash is an Australian with a British passport. She doesn't like British chocolate, but she does like lollies, particularly "Swedish Fish", which she could buy in the US rather than in Australia. Needless to say, in my innocence, I thought that she was actually referring to Swedish fish. But, no. Apparently it's some kind of gummi that is red and shaped like a fish. Not, as I imagined in my five-minute gibbering, a kind of roll-mop. Tash promised to bring me some real Australian chocolate if I promised to buy a new mobile phone. An odd deal, but, hell, life's meant to be odd.
Mark Thomas, a comedian whom I have tended to avoid on TV, is very good, and the surrealism of his tales of involvement in the arms trade made for a good hour and a half or so. He does a nice range of accents and created some marvellous characters, including a kind of "Tim Nice But Dim" PR guy for the arms trade called Angus Taverner.
Unfortunately we ended up on a train leaving Brighton at 11.07pm that decided to stop at stations that we were sure didn't exist last week, and arrive at Victoria just a short time before I was scheduled to get up. Luckily a night bus arrived straight away and I was in bed just before 2am.
Going out is more expensive than staying in and its considerably more expensive than staying in and churning out the grind at online poker. It's also a lot more exhausting and a lot more fun. I should do it more often.
