Out on a Sunday Night Spectacular last night. This time there was no soup and the film was Santana Live but the situation was remedied by a barbecue in the back of the Blind Eye. I hung around and had a little meat, then went to bed early.
It’s funny but that place really isn’t my bar anymore. Not that anywhere else is, mind you. It’s just a place I spend very little time in now. I could go away for two weeks and nobody would give me more than a nod and a ‘hi’ on my return, and rightly so too. I do the same for them.
Fate has decreed that the people I have got to know well have mainly gone, leaving mainly those I am just acquainted with. Well, too bad. So it goes. If I were drinking until 6 every night right now (how strange that sounds now, yet it was about the average just 6 months ago) I would be dead. No joke. But maybe boring is good, for a while at least. I’ve written and read a lot recently
Speaking of illness, though, my insurance form came today. I waited in the house for the postman to arrive, and he turned up at 2.15, which was too late, I have lessons to teach now. So I’ll have to ship off to Motol first thing tomorrow. Wish me luck, everyone.