Day 297: Feast

Owl. No balm.

Oh hello, good times. Or should I say 'O OK, BED'. I wrote that in scrabble letters in a pub today (because those were the only letters there). The comma had to be inferred, but it was cleverly picked up on - indeed that I was talking not about bed, but to it. Yes, indeed. Well done. 

What a fantastic evening. When someone lovely has a party, all these delicious people turn up in the same place and seamlessly get on – one big salad that maybe shouldn’t work, but it does. That's what happened tonight, at least. 

Tasty, tasty Emily Moon (nee Wilkinson-Cuphead) had a party at Seven At Brixton - very arty and covered in drawings, so perfect for her. There I saw edible boys Andrew Gentilli and Dylan Buckle. Lean and scrumptious Karen Smithson was there, full of ideas and connections and things to inspire me and moreish Steve Wheeler – a human Pringle with brains*, that man. 

Something else Rob Grundel might say

Lots and lots of funny, lovely, fabulous moments with all of them, including a very pleasing Spaced moment on the tube, and we had the pleasure of lots of goes on Emily too. She did hosting very well. I met Julian, with whom we shall no doubt work, Rowan and his girlfriend who are off to cycle the West coast of America and had a quick blast of Gaia and Cristina (though my name-remembering skills are fairly poor, so the person I think was Cristina may have been someone else. Very nice, she was).

I had such a lovely time, networked like a motherfucker without even meaning to and enjoyed the whole experience hugely. Normally on a night out, part of me is already working out how I’ll get home and when I should leave. If the bar was open now and those people were still in it, I’d still be there, no question at all.

I had the pleasure of an owl today. A fabulous owl from Esther Lilley’s delightful husband, Daniel. It has lip-balm in it. You slip open the underneath and get it from there. It’s both funny and tasty. Thank you, Daniel. It pleases me immensely, even just knowing it’s in my bag. Never again, Chapstick. Stick it up your bum, little Vaseline tin. I’m only ever having lip balm from an animal from now on, preferably a wise owl. And maybe an otter.

And today, I did my laundry (RESULT) at the launderette next to Planet Organic. Some of it is even dry. And I Got Shit Done (a bit) and had a coffee – two, actually - with Stephen in the afternoon, which was very nice and very interesting. And I had the pleasure of a chat with the wonder that is Esther Lilley her very self. Lovely, lovely. Wise. Inspiring.

And now it’s late and the internet has turned its nose up at me, but nevertheless here I am, blogging. It needs to be done. It’s a pleasure to do. If I don’t post it until the internet is speaking to me again, that’s how things will be. Yes. Oh yes. Good.

Google 'people dressed as food'. Shrimps, this lot.

* not entirely sure about the mental image that name creates. Should be something healthier and more nourishing. And cooked brains are grey and pasty like moussed paté. Again, not quite the right match. More work needed on the ‘food that Steve might be’ front. 

When Jessica Loudon and I did our MSc, we had food names for most people in the class. It was such a great game. She was Falafel, if I remember rightly. We had Mash (a well-intentioned, but entirely clueless gentleman who I suspect had, at some point, taken too much acid), Lollo Rosso (very curly hair), Breadstick (immensely tall and thin), Chop ('My name is Chop. Pork Chop.' We couldn’t decide if he was raw or cooked. Both suited him.) We had Slops (not that nice a name, but he really was all over the place.) Boy on a Spit had two names – Spare Ribs was the other, I think. And Salt (the girl you only noticed when she was not there, but who disappeared into the group when she was). 

A step too far?

I’d like to play that game again. Oh yes – we’re doing the 21-day Tasty Autumn Experiment thing from Monday. That’s good, isn’t it? Very good indeed. I shall revive it. When I do, many people shall get new names and Steve shall be renamed with something more suitable. At the very least, something unprocessed. Either that or a pudding.