Sunday, February 01, 2004
Snow - it's always a bit disappointing, isn't it? When I was kid I used to pray for snow, not only because it meant we could build snowmen and risk our necks on sled-substitute binliners, but because it meant school closed down for days. This week, the snow came, but instead of spending happy hours trying to kill myself on a binliner while skiving off work, I spent less-happy hours on a train, crushed up against all the other commuters, for hours. It was a cross between the Tokyo subway and the Trans-Siberian Express. Still, while stuck on said train I did read an interesting passage over the shoulder of a fellow commuter: "She came to him after midnight. She had already removed her wimple and habit." It must have been a good page: he was reading it for an hour. Then he fell asleep, sated.

On Thursday night I went to a karaoke evening at the Regent's Palace Hotel in Piccadilly Circus. It's a huge, noisy place; by far the biggest crowd I've ever performed in front of. After waiting so long that my nerves got bored and died, I sang my standard: 'Hound Dog'. I rocked da house. The next morning I woke up and discovered I'd trodden black snow into the carpet and was late for work. See, snow just wants to make you suffer when you're an adult.

We've been on a ticket-buying frenzy this week. Butter bought tickets to see the Chili Peppers in Hyde Park. I'm not going because I prefer young groups - like Duran Duran, who we're going to see in April. And just to prove that this isn't a household of fogey-worshippers, I got tickets for Franz Ferdinand at the Astoria, which sold out in nano-seconds.