It's been a long time been a long time been a long lonely lonely lonely lonely time
Been a busy bee. To be honest I've kind of forgotten most of the stuff I've been up to because, well, a lot of it involved drinking and the like. I've become a bit of an old lush.
But on Wednesday I went to see Ross Noble, who I adore with every beat of my scruffy heart. He's like me. Incoherent and easily distracted. Though he's also a sweaty Geordie man, and last time I checked I was none of those things. Certainly not a man, or a Geordie.
Then instead of doing the sensible thing and going home I stayed somewhere I shouldn't have with someone I shouldn't have and then instead of doing the sensible thing in the morning and going to work I switched off my bleating alarm and stayed in bed. All day. There were croissants. (Incidentally, a croissant is the worst thing - barring perhaps spaghetti - that you can possibly eat in bed. Oh the flaky humanity)
My favourite thing about iplayer is that the volume goes to 11.
I went to Dynamite Boogaloo and had cake thrown at me by a person of indeterminable sex in a big wig and shiny frock. It was shit. The music was horrific. But the girl who had been making me miserable at work got her nose broken, so it wasn't all bad. (What? I didn't push her! She fell!)
I went to Born Bad and partied the night away in a borrowed dress and no shoes. One of my friends turned up with temporary tattoos for everyone in the spirit of the night, swallows and anchors and Sailor Jerry. I was about to commence foot stamping until I got one but he turned to me and said "I made one for you specially. I thought to myself, 'what does Dylan like'?" and it turns out he knows well what I like because for the next week I was sporting a beautiful black and white likeness of Sir David Attenborough on my pasty forearm.
When I turned up at my friend's house her flatmate had saved me a poster out of the newspaper so now I have a sweet dinosaur collection on my wall. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and my dinosaur obsession around my neck.
It's getting lighter earlier and now when I finish work I can walk to the beach and scuff my way along the sea front kicking pebbles into the surf and watching the sunset behind me melting the sky pink. The clouds of starlings weave through the wreck of the pier and everything feels like summer again.
The pirate boat got finished. I don't remember if I actually mentioned it. My friends won a contract to build an art installation in a school playground. I should send some pictures to stick up to show you just how much love went into it. I can't take credit, I only helped out a few weekends. This boat was my friends' life for 6 months, getting up before dawn and bending sodden planks of ice in the dead of December. But it's finished and it's fabulous. And I can't get the blue paint out of my hair.
Been a busy bee. To be honest I've kind of forgotten most of the stuff I've been up to because, well, a lot of it involved drinking and the like. I've become a bit of an old lush.
But on Wednesday I went to see Ross Noble, who I adore with every beat of my scruffy heart. He's like me. Incoherent and easily distracted. Though he's also a sweaty Geordie man, and last time I checked I was none of those things. Certainly not a man, or a Geordie.
Then instead of doing the sensible thing and going home I stayed somewhere I shouldn't have with someone I shouldn't have and then instead of doing the sensible thing in the morning and going to work I switched off my bleating alarm and stayed in bed. All day. There were croissants. (Incidentally, a croissant is the worst thing - barring perhaps spaghetti - that you can possibly eat in bed. Oh the flaky humanity)
My favourite thing about iplayer is that the volume goes to 11.
I went to Dynamite Boogaloo and had cake thrown at me by a person of indeterminable sex in a big wig and shiny frock. It was shit. The music was horrific. But the girl who had been making me miserable at work got her nose broken, so it wasn't all bad. (What? I didn't push her! She fell!)
I went to Born Bad and partied the night away in a borrowed dress and no shoes. One of my friends turned up with temporary tattoos for everyone in the spirit of the night, swallows and anchors and Sailor Jerry. I was about to commence foot stamping until I got one but he turned to me and said "I made one for you specially. I thought to myself, 'what does Dylan like'?" and it turns out he knows well what I like because for the next week I was sporting a beautiful black and white likeness of Sir David Attenborough on my pasty forearm.
When I turned up at my friend's house her flatmate had saved me a poster out of the newspaper so now I have a sweet dinosaur collection on my wall. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and my dinosaur obsession around my neck.
It's getting lighter earlier and now when I finish work I can walk to the beach and scuff my way along the sea front kicking pebbles into the surf and watching the sunset behind me melting the sky pink. The clouds of starlings weave through the wreck of the pier and everything feels like summer again.
The pirate boat got finished. I don't remember if I actually mentioned it. My friends won a contract to build an art installation in a school playground. I should send some pictures to stick up to show you just how much love went into it. I can't take credit, I only helped out a few weekends. This boat was my friends' life for 6 months, getting up before dawn and bending sodden planks of ice in the dead of December. But it's finished and it's fabulous. And I can't get the blue paint out of my hair.
VIEW 18 of 18 COMMENTS
you = out of control rad!