One of Those Days

I could have happily lived without most of today. It started around midnight with Max making absolutely-definitely-final edits to the play - that is, him telling me what to change on the wordprocessor, and me doing it because he's about as proficient with computers as I am with necromancy.

The small detail that we were supposed to have the final script two weeks ago was obscured by his urgent need to go and relax with a few cigarettes before we'd finished, with the assurance that the final changes could easily be made on the night of performance with a biro.

I walked home, watched Sapphire and Steel, slept around 0500...and was woken at the unearthly hour of 1000 by Simon M calling to say, "Nobby's ill. Can you come round and fix him?" - meaning "The computer's stopped working again, please weave your magic and make it alright again."

My magic must have been working especially well, because when I arrived, I was greeted with, "Hello there you fat old trollop, Nobby started working again ten minutes ago."

So, after being fed tea and bagels for breakfast (followed by ice cream!), I sauntered off home for a quick doze in preparation for the things I'd promised to do for the day - finish the gig compilation CD with Sion R, go to the Respect meeting on Iran, and get some of the CDs to Paul T.

Except I was waylaid by Gareth E, Paddy U and Joe R into joining them in The One-Eyed Dog. Where Paul T called me and spent half an hour explaining why he was leaving the band, leaving the party, and possibly leaving the country.

Short version: No one likes him, everyone mocks him, everyone thinks he's an arsehole and no one wants him around. He doesn't fit in and no one's interested in what he has to say.

After which the four of us spent much time mocking him and being glad he wasn't around.

In any case, two hours later he'd changed him mind completely. Which means we're probably stuck with the arsehole after all.

It took longer than expected to complete the CD, so I missed the meeting - having spent the day with people who didn't want to go either. I'm introducing Sion to Bodygurn and Kamakura - though the list of available bands is outstripping gig slots.

Back home I got a text message: Paddie's more-or-less girlfriend has found out about his not-really girlfriend, both are furious, and he's in the shit. Oh dear, not good. I somehow suspect it wouldn't help if they knew about our drunken fondling session a few weeks ago.

Tomorrow is a rehearsal for the play, and on Friday I visit the delectable Craig C to devirus his computer. But those complications are for tomorrow.