It’s possible that I’ve barely bothered trying to work since I got married; all I can remember of the last few weeks is drinking, eating and not exercising as much as I should because of the first two. (Incidentally, last night I went to Cay Tre in Old St – not the most auspicious of frontages with tables crammed together inside (and once seated we found the aircon pointed direct at us and turned up full) but the food was great, really top notch and well worth checking out.)
Part of that is because we’ve got a mate staying with us at the mo while his flat purchase goes through, and the boy drinks most days! Not to excess I hasten to add, but it’s just not something we do every day, preferring the week to dry out from the weekend and give our bodies a rest. Clearly we are the exception in this manky old city however – not sure where everyone gets the money from but recently it’s really been obvious that some people I know drink more than double what I do in a heavy week – and that’s their average. It’s all just one more reason I think for moving away. London’s been fun for more than ten years, but I’m really getting tired of the fact nothing works here and you get fleeced on the price of everything. There are just too many people crammed in together in this city and as a rule I don’t like people.
On a cheerier note, without really noticing it I find myself 180,000 words into the first draft of Ragged Man and onto the last scene – which is just as well since we head off to Venice in two weeks and I can’t bear the thought of it being unfinished while I’m on honeymoon. Ahead of me I’ve got a weekend of chilling out at home with just my wife, a whole series of the Wire and a case of my friend’s very good wine for company. What more could I ask for?
Which reminds me – if you want to try out some of this wine for yourself you can buy it here – it’s from a small, dare I say boutique, vineyard just outside of Henley and it’s delicious!