I guess I should apologise, on the off chance that there’s anyone actually out there still reading this, for my lack of updates (aside from the occasional celebrity spotting haiku) over the past month.
It’s not like I’ve been short of things to write about, (although a funny incident on the tube or at a gig slightly pales into insignificance against the sort of things that Rob has been recounting in his fascinating updates from his travels in Asia). Not writing so much at my new work is probably the main factor. It’s not, you understand, because I can’t (although it’s probably not good to look too much like a web-surfing, blogging, work-shy skiver in your first month), but because I’ve been deeply engrossed in hatching my master plans for sorting out their documentation (now that I’ve been given the freedom to do whatever I like).
We have been getting out and about, though. Last week we went to the Shepherd’s Bush Empire to catch Pete Murray, another Aussie bloke with a guitar failing to break the UK (“are there any Australians in tonight…?”) It was a moderately entertaining gig, despite the fact that a lot of his songs sound the same, and I consequently spent much of the gig convinced that, as he only has the one album, each song he started was one he had already played (although in the case of his encore, I’m pretty sure he did actually play a song for the second time). He was supported by a young Irish chap by the name of Paddy Casey, who, proving that the old jokes are the best, ended his spot with the old Norman Prince classic: “if you’ve enjoyed it, my name’s Paddy Casey, and I’ve an album out called Livin’; if you haven’t, my name’s Damien Rice and I’ve an album out named O“.
We spent Wednesday evening out at the club formerly known as Camden’s shabby Camden Palace, but now reborn as the refurbished (well, painted red all over at least) KoKo. It was ostensibly an NME-themed club night, but that seemed to mean them playing a load of music I didn’t recognise (apart from the occasional Libertines), and showcasing a band called The Kaiser Chiefs, who were, well, alright, I guess. Maybe I’m getting old. Still, perhaps it’s worth going there just to see the largest mirror ball ever, as long as you can get in for free, like we did.
And today will mostly be spent in the pub commiserating a departing Aussie with an expired Working Holiday Visa, oh, and bragging about this. (Ahem, and this).
It’s hard work being us.
I still read your blog, Matt. But, um, at the risk of sounding very ignorant, who is Emma Kennedy?
Don’t worry: that’s not really being ignorant. She’s a minor comedian and friend of Richard Herring (hence the “I’m not sure this really counts” comment about seeing her at a Richard Herring gig”). She was one of the rowers in the Oxford boat for the “celebrity” boat race that he took part in, and I think she was also one of the 50 women he dated in 50 days. Oh, and she used to be in the Heat adverts on TV.