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Way out in Lancaster
The night at the avantgarde art and music event with Felicity went very well. I got the times a bit wrong, so we got in without paying, to a room with a stone flagged floor where everyone who had been at the preceding academic conference was about to sit down for the dinner they'd paid for. That is, "dinner" in Lancaster University's understanding of the term, so it means motorway service station-standard catering. Fetch it yourself and enjoy the warmth of the heat lamps nurturing the bacteria on aluminium trays of lasagne. The man sitting next to us asked the waiter for a second glass of wine and was told he'd have to pay for it.
Firstly we had a flickering set of cartoons being displayed to a dance-lite soundtrack, then a multi-vocal poem about walking through some North American city, then someone who looked a bit like Giant Haystacks who played an electronic drum kit whilst an only slightly less plump girl in black jogging trousers did an abstract painting. In between there were long gaps while people fiddled interminably with leads and settings. I felt very working class and said out loud at one point "Get on with it". Felicity shushed me.
Felicity got talking to Helga the Milkmaid, this German woman from the Uni who turns up at everything in her blonde plaits and a dirndl.
Yesterday I was the only male helper in my daughters' class's night out: pizza place and then cinema. The women were brilliant, herding them all in, getting money together, settling the bill, sorting out who's having Margherita and who's having Quattro Formaggi. I managed to get a sit next to a married acquaintance Olivia: a beautiful Suffolk accent and ragged blonde hair, an asymmetrical grey dress, possibly black underwear, black tights and purple heeled shoes. Walked with her back to her car, wishing I could ask her out for a drink.
Off to London tomorrow to have 24 hours with Kitty (from Dubai) and Helen (from Lagos) where they are teaching. They're going to have to sneak me into their Travelodge room. If previous form is anything to go by it will involve drugs, overeating, talking to strangers, and them drinking me under the table.
2 comments
Hope you have booked a family room in the Travelodge.
Will your erect cock be getting to work its tricks again one wonders ha ha.
Have a good one down in the smoke.
Yes, we are staying in a Travelodge actually :) But no, there’ll be no hanky-panky with those two - despite having slept in the same bed with Kitty a few times!
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