Mood: Atypically sociable for this hour of the day, as it is my usual custom to lunch alone: just around the corner from the office, at Cast Deli, which is attached to Nottingham Playhouse. However, a chance meeting with two friends and former colleagues (Hi F! Hi Lathbud!) leads to a pleasant catch-up session in the baking sunshine.
Physical state: Baking. All these extremes of temperature can’t be good for a man.
Other observations (1): Was it really necessary for Lathbud and I to get quite so breathlessly excited over the fact that one of our nearby market towns in Derbyshire has a new supermarket? (F: “Just listen to yourselves!”) This time ten years ago, at the very apex of my Trade phase, I would have reserved such levels of enthusiasm for blow-by-blow accounts of weekend debauchery (“And I was just coming up on my second pill when Tony De Vit dropped his remix of Libido’s “The Second Coming”, and I’m telling you, the whole place went MENTAL…”) – now, it’s all “BUXTON HAS A NEW WAITROSE!” “GET AWAY!” “I KNOW! ISN’T IT GREAT!”
(2): I’m used to having songs going round in my head, but today I’ve had a person going round in my head as well: the wind-driven phenomenon that is Jayne from Big Brother. How has this appalling woman managed to invade my headspace? As Grace Dent has observed in her superb (no, really) daily Big Brother blog for the Radio Times:
Jayne is the sort of woman who sits down beside you in a Virgin train Quiet Zone carriage, gets out her mobile phone and shouts, “Hiya, Lizanne! Lizaaaaannne! Is that you?! Can you hear me? Ooh, I might get cut off but I’ll call you back! Can you hear me? Is Tricia there? Oooooh, shut up! Shut up, you cheeky cow! Put Tricia on, I’ve got three hours to kill here so I thought I’d go through the sales reports!”
I couldn’t have put it better.
troubled diva 