Sorry I haven't been on for a while, O brothers and only friends, there is so very little to say. And yet so very much. Well, if you count whinging. And no, we have heard frack-all about the house. Why is God punishing me like this? I know I've hit rock-bottom when I start blaming The Man himself. But what is going on?
Went to Brick Lane yesterday to the Car Boot Art Fair. What a load of old shit! Where did all those people come from ? And that loud music! I'm just too old for all that shit. In the eighties I used to walk through Camden Lock without a qualm - and it was just as noisy and just as crowded. My poor mate and her boyfriend and mum were really going through it, standing under that gazebo all day, that loud noise penetrating them. While Boyfriend did charcoal portraits for £25. Didn't make a penny all day apparently. Why am I drawing comfort from someone else's misery?
Saw Peter Blake there. And Gavin Turk. The only two contemporary artists I really know.
Wanted Peter Blake's autograph. Too scared to ask! Forget what an old man he is now.
Got the hell out of there as soon as bloody possible. What a shit-hole!
Son announces at bloody 8 o'clock tonight that he has to do a powerpoint presentation for tomorrow. For this Critical Thinking thing he's on. The little bugger, leaving something like that at the last minute. Was furious with him. So once again someone else hogs the computer and does a big project that eats into Adult time. Can't remember where husband's gone - a brothel probably. Or an opium den. He's probably at Brick Lane.
Cat's birthday today. She's 3 years old. The little cow didn't like her new basket or her card or her catnip toy. Ungrateful brat! Worse than the bloody kids!
Going to Brentford tomorrow. Don't ask me why. I just feel it calling me somehow.