alexsarll | It may not feel like July, but...

Last week was a whirlwind of activity. During the days, as I made sure everything for which I was responsible was set for a week without me. And then again in the evenings, because half the people I know (but especially

thedavidx) seemed to be performing. So we got Dickon lecturing at an event which seemed essentially to be Bright Club minus the precautions to keep out the vile or deranged (but Dickon’s talk was still very good, and so were the one which told epidemiological tales through felt, and the Viking one, and the Amazon investigator). Thereafter: gigs. Gigs with variant versions of ‘Slag to Love’, and a coat that looks like it’s illegal in six states, and a frankly ill-advised kazoo cover of The Boo Radleys’ mighty ‘Lazarus’. Where I liked one band simply because I couldn’t stop imagining how Steven Wells would have reacted to their ubertweeness, and where

cappuccino_kid described another’s frontman as “Adam Buxton as Freddie Mercury” but somehow pegged that as a bad thing. And then at the weekend mash, and an exhibition comprised mostly of peacocks and the House Beautiful, and The Persuaders!, and then down to Twickenham(ish) for more lovely grub and wonderful though it all was, boy did I need a rest.
And now I’m getting that rest, holed up in Devon and past halfway through A Dance with Dragons, and in its own very different way this week is wonderful too.