Strange days have found us. Last week I got a lift to work and we passed a short bald man in tight colourful clothes running in the road with his two dogs. Ten minutes later we saw him up ahead again, charging up the road his dogs beside him. Today a man dressed for summer in shorts and sandals gets off the tube, presumably to start his holidays somewhere in the grime.
Saturday saw me and my friend David's joint 40th birthday party, at a pub called Filthy McNasty's in Angel. I never get the hang of who to invite and kept the invites mainly to people in London, figuring no-one would want to come from outside. Being older seems a strange thing to celebrate. It was good fun though, a good mix of people, and the best thing is I'm still only 39.
Today was payday and hopefully I'm going to clear my overdraft this time round. We shall see. I want to run to the record and book shops and buy myself endless gifts, but I do sensible things, such as buying gas, and topping up my oyster card. Someone said it's all about the money but that ain't true. When it's all about the money so much gets lost.
Tonight I'm sitting in, writing this, listening to the Go Betweens and wondering how something can be as good as 'Boundary Rider'. Songs like that make it all worthwhile.
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