London Calling
Well, that was fun!
The fourth wave of cards has been unleashed on the great unwashed, beer has been drunk, and I've completely spazzed my back. One of these incidents is (probably) unrelated to the others, but here's the report anyway. Ow.
Pretty much spent all of yesterday in London, wandering around after meeting my mother for lunch, killing time. I think I may well have had a drink in pretty much every bar in the whole area (or it felt like it anyhow) but at least if I ever go back, I know where every single bar, cafe, coffee house and licensed sex shop is. After 4 hours of strolling about, these kind of things get imprinted on your mind, y'know. Met up with a few of the lovely Mind Candy lot in Borders, where Dr Paul presented me with a little file of my designs AND some promo cards, including The Illustrious Gold Card That Everybody Wants. After making a few calls from a payphone in which someone had actually done a poo (it was there in the corner, but no other ones worked, and no, T Mobile STILL haven't sent me my replacement phone), I positioned myself outside The French House and waited. The French (as it is lovingly known) is one of my favourite places in all of London. Absolutely tiny, been there for years, and home to some very strange and wonderful people. You can wander in not knowing anyone, any time of the day, and you'll get dragged into a random conversation. My kind of place. Also, the world's greatest playwright Brendan Behan used to drink there, which is invariably a mark of quality.
Ben was first to arrive, followed by Dave Sledge and swiftly after, Jamie and Sara. We headed down Old Compton Street to our second meeting place, The Stockpot, for food. People mock me for having pancakes and ice cream for dinner, but meh - I'm living basically on sugar at the minute, so I don't mind. Plus if Americans can have pancakes for breakfast, who am I to quibble over timezones? European Chris then showed up, ordering a plate of offal, and we were finally joined by the last of our team (Marc) who got shockingly lost. Then it was on to Borders again (just round the corner) where the madness ensued. MC were running a couple of competitions at the venue - one which was solving a bunch of Wave 4 cards that had been blown up to poster size, the other a team competition solving puzzles that flashed up on a screen. A group of us did our best to put people off (cheering when question 69 came up went down particularly well), but needless to say, I / we didn't win. But I don't mind, because I had my Gold Card, which certain obsessive loons were eyeing up scarily. I swear, if I'd been there on my own, they'd have tried to pick me off like a pride of boggly eyed lions against a puzzle designing gazelle. I leapt over the rack of jazz CDs and fled into the distance for a swapping session and general chat with lots of lovely people I'd not met before. Card collections were augmented - one guy I met actually has every single card which I found scary - and stories were told. Then it was back into Soho to a bar called 6 Degrees for a few drinks on the MC tab. Needless to say it was decimated quite quickly, and time passed most speedily as I talked to what felt like pretty much the whole world. Come 11pm I decided it was hometime, so I did the huge round of goodbyes, coralled Jamie and Sara (and eventually a few others) off to the station, finally rolling in home around 12.30pm. So, a good night was had by all.
Oh, and the back? Well, this afternoon I was just heading out to the post office, picked up my bag and felt the damn thing go ping. I collapsed to the floor like a ragdoll, whimpering like an idiot for about ten minutes. The pain has subsided a bit - and I still managed to get into the village and back - but now it's a dull throb. Don't want to move that much, because even breathing hurts. Booo say I.
The fourth wave of cards has been unleashed on the great unwashed, beer has been drunk, and I've completely spazzed my back. One of these incidents is (probably) unrelated to the others, but here's the report anyway. Ow.
Pretty much spent all of yesterday in London, wandering around after meeting my mother for lunch, killing time. I think I may well have had a drink in pretty much every bar in the whole area (or it felt like it anyhow) but at least if I ever go back, I know where every single bar, cafe, coffee house and licensed sex shop is. After 4 hours of strolling about, these kind of things get imprinted on your mind, y'know. Met up with a few of the lovely Mind Candy lot in Borders, where Dr Paul presented me with a little file of my designs AND some promo cards, including The Illustrious Gold Card That Everybody Wants. After making a few calls from a payphone in which someone had actually done a poo (it was there in the corner, but no other ones worked, and no, T Mobile STILL haven't sent me my replacement phone), I positioned myself outside The French House and waited. The French (as it is lovingly known) is one of my favourite places in all of London. Absolutely tiny, been there for years, and home to some very strange and wonderful people. You can wander in not knowing anyone, any time of the day, and you'll get dragged into a random conversation. My kind of place. Also, the world's greatest playwright Brendan Behan used to drink there, which is invariably a mark of quality.
Ben was first to arrive, followed by Dave Sledge and swiftly after, Jamie and Sara. We headed down Old Compton Street to our second meeting place, The Stockpot, for food. People mock me for having pancakes and ice cream for dinner, but meh - I'm living basically on sugar at the minute, so I don't mind. Plus if Americans can have pancakes for breakfast, who am I to quibble over timezones? European Chris then showed up, ordering a plate of offal, and we were finally joined by the last of our team (Marc) who got shockingly lost. Then it was on to Borders again (just round the corner) where the madness ensued. MC were running a couple of competitions at the venue - one which was solving a bunch of Wave 4 cards that had been blown up to poster size, the other a team competition solving puzzles that flashed up on a screen. A group of us did our best to put people off (cheering when question 69 came up went down particularly well), but needless to say, I / we didn't win. But I don't mind, because I had my Gold Card, which certain obsessive loons were eyeing up scarily. I swear, if I'd been there on my own, they'd have tried to pick me off like a pride of boggly eyed lions against a puzzle designing gazelle. I leapt over the rack of jazz CDs and fled into the distance for a swapping session and general chat with lots of lovely people I'd not met before. Card collections were augmented - one guy I met actually has every single card which I found scary - and stories were told. Then it was back into Soho to a bar called 6 Degrees for a few drinks on the MC tab. Needless to say it was decimated quite quickly, and time passed most speedily as I talked to what felt like pretty much the whole world. Come 11pm I decided it was hometime, so I did the huge round of goodbyes, coralled Jamie and Sara (and eventually a few others) off to the station, finally rolling in home around 12.30pm. So, a good night was had by all.
Oh, and the back? Well, this afternoon I was just heading out to the post office, picked up my bag and felt the damn thing go ping. I collapsed to the floor like a ragdoll, whimpering like an idiot for about ten minutes. The pain has subsided a bit - and I still managed to get into the village and back - but now it's a dull throb. Don't want to move that much, because even breathing hurts. Booo say I.
posted by michael at
1:25 PM
1 Comments:
Congratulations on getting your designs out there, michael. I've just bought a bunch of new packs; how will I know which are yours? Are you mentioned by name or do you have a sneaky alias?
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Anonymous, At
1:01 PM
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