Friday night was a mini oxmeet in the Free Press (other attendees: the owner of the head from which headpiping is piped; pseudomonas; addedentry; lnr; ewx). Some of us played Scrabble on a mini travel board with 20+ missing tiles, and nobody won, though we arm-wrestled for a nominal winner. Lots of conversation about books and music and languages and Oxford and stuff and things, and Colin told me about some exciting theory of genetics and linguistics which basically proves that we are words all the way through, which I really should go and try to find now that I may be sober enough to understand it.
– pseudomonas, I said I'd point you to Portfolio's webpage, but it appears to be rather broken... I think the relevant information is there though. Mail me if you want more info.
– The Free Press does a really great salad: the so-called "Lancashire salad", which contained black pudding, cabbage, bacon, potato, and some bits of green salad, plus three poached eggs on top and three slices of fried bread at the side. I mean, wow. A girl could
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Headed over to London for verlaine's birthday party. I was slightly nervous about going to the party of somebody I'd never met in real life before, but I needn't have worried; verlaine is an excellent host (even not minding when partied-out people are still hanging around mid-afternoon the next day) and the party was excellent. Delightful to meet so many lovely people, all of whose LJ-names I will now have to go and track down. (I remember people's real names, but will refrain from namechecking them on the basis that I don't know how much they mind being named on a world-readable journal.)
– drinking red wine and then switching to vodka and cream soda, when the only thing you've eaten beforehand is a smoked salmon bagel, is a really bad idea. I'm afraid I was a bit ill for a while (though recovered with a resilience that I thought I'd lost when I graduated) - thanks and apologies to the people who looked after me.
– I can't remember what I sang on the karaoke game thingy, but I'm sorry for that as well. :-}
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Sunday began with the inevitable hangover, bizarre instant cappucino (a result of panzerpenguin's well-meaning attempt to make coffee in a house which had been stripped of all its food contents by ravenous party-animals), and later some proper
Once I was feeling human enough to negotiate the underground, I made a dash across town to see nou for waistcoat-fitting and a very welcome hangover-curing cup of tea. The waistcoat which she is knitting for me is made of yarn which looks like BADGER EYELASHES, all black and white and grey and fluttery, and it is very soft and lovely.
Then headed back to Waterloo to meet up again with verlaine et al (help! I need LJ-nicks!), in order to go and see the Magnetic Fields (supported by The Real Tuesday Weld) at the Royal Festival Hall. By this time I was nearly falling over from sleep deprivation (though fish and chips from the implausibly-named 'Fishcotheque' helped) and I was worried that I'd end up falling asleep if the bands failed to hold my attention. Again, though, no need to have worried: TRTW were great, as I'd expected after hearing I, Lucifer; and the Magnetic Fields were simply sublime - I was utterly entranced from start to finish. Proper gig review to follow, maybe ... or perhaps I'll just listen to the albums (I bought 69 Love Songs at lunchtime - three other albums are on order from Play) and hope the blissed-out feeling lasts. Good music in good company is even better than salad. :-)
In addition to fellow party-survivors who I was expecting to see at the gig (not just the ones who invited me along but others as well), we bumped into julietk and Pete-who-does-now-have-an-LJ-but-I-can't-r
Got home at 2am last night. Overall I make that approximately 12 hours sleep in the entire weekend... and, amazingly, I feel fine. My body clock appears to have reset itself to the age of 19. Party on, dude.