It snowed properly for the first time on Friday!... then it melted... now it's properly pissing down, bugger!
Helloween gig last Saturday, sadly a dearth of mullets but acres of black leather and denim and oodles of devil horn gesticulations. There was the mandatory 10 minute guitar and drum solos and the obligatory ballad complete with a sea of raised lighters, beautiful.
Had a chat with a muso hack and her photographer. No seats so she perched on my knee, good so far. After a few minutes of small talk and flirting I asked how she knew the lensman. "Oh, he's my husband". Riiiiiight, "So why are you sitting on my knee?". "Don't worry about it, he's used to it". Hmmm. Anyway, she asked me if I wanted to go to a bar with them and seeing as I don't know that many people or the bar in question off I went.
Cool bar, OK music if a little 80's rock for my liking. Found some seats and offered the sofa to the couple. He refused and took the chair. Made a point of chatting to him and ignoring her stroking my back. He plys her with many drinks while he nurses a pint and then gets a coffee. After a couple of hours she's slouched over my back and while I'm chatting to someone at the next table he pisses off. Great, "Is he coming back?". I translate her heavily slurred Finglish as "No and I don't know where he is". Fantastic, by this point the bar is closing and she has less spine than Lord Goldsmith.
It takes me 10 minutes to get her off her coat and scarf and get them onto her (is -5C outside). Get her onto her feet, she collapses... get her arm round my neck and try and walk her out... is like re-inacting one of those 50's dance marathons after the couples have been at it for 2 days. I finally have to sling her over my shoulder and carry her out of the bar. Perch her in a shop window and after repeatedly calling her husband from her and my phone get hold of him and tell him to get his arse in a taxi and come pick his wife up. 30 mins later he pulls up and sits in the taxi while I carry her to the taxi and manouvre her onto the back seat. He then turns to me and asks if I'm coming back with them to thier place! No, godamit, it's 4 am, I'm cold, tired and hungry and I have a hernia from carrying your wife out of the bar. I'm going home... to bed... alone.... again!
In other news I found a copy of my CV so now I don't have to re-write it, hurrah! Applied for a couple of jobs in Helsinki that I should be able to bear for another 10 months or so. I don't think I can face re-locating to the UK for such a short period of time.
Helloween gig last Saturday, sadly a dearth of mullets but acres of black leather and denim and oodles of devil horn gesticulations. There was the mandatory 10 minute guitar and drum solos and the obligatory ballad complete with a sea of raised lighters, beautiful.
Had a chat with a muso hack and her photographer. No seats so she perched on my knee, good so far. After a few minutes of small talk and flirting I asked how she knew the lensman. "Oh, he's my husband". Riiiiiight, "So why are you sitting on my knee?". "Don't worry about it, he's used to it". Hmmm. Anyway, she asked me if I wanted to go to a bar with them and seeing as I don't know that many people or the bar in question off I went.
Cool bar, OK music if a little 80's rock for my liking. Found some seats and offered the sofa to the couple. He refused and took the chair. Made a point of chatting to him and ignoring her stroking my back. He plys her with many drinks while he nurses a pint and then gets a coffee. After a couple of hours she's slouched over my back and while I'm chatting to someone at the next table he pisses off. Great, "Is he coming back?". I translate her heavily slurred Finglish as "No and I don't know where he is". Fantastic, by this point the bar is closing and she has less spine than Lord Goldsmith.
It takes me 10 minutes to get her off her coat and scarf and get them onto her (is -5C outside). Get her onto her feet, she collapses... get her arm round my neck and try and walk her out... is like re-inacting one of those 50's dance marathons after the couples have been at it for 2 days. I finally have to sling her over my shoulder and carry her out of the bar. Perch her in a shop window and after repeatedly calling her husband from her and my phone get hold of him and tell him to get his arse in a taxi and come pick his wife up. 30 mins later he pulls up and sits in the taxi while I carry her to the taxi and manouvre her onto the back seat. He then turns to me and asks if I'm coming back with them to thier place! No, godamit, it's 4 am, I'm cold, tired and hungry and I have a hernia from carrying your wife out of the bar. I'm going home... to bed... alone.... again!
In other news I found a copy of my CV so now I don't have to re-write it, hurrah! Applied for a couple of jobs in Helsinki that I should be able to bear for another 10 months or so. I don't think I can face re-locating to the UK for such a short period of time.