Douglas Spencer (dougs) wrote,
Douglas Spencer

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The morning after

You'll have gathered that I had a glass or two last night, in the company of a bunch of other people.
Well, in the process we earnt not seven but seventeen T-Shirts, all of them size "L", all of them entitled "Lust".
So now you know what you get when you go out for a night's drinking with dougs: seventeen large lusts. These T-shirts were distributed amongst the survivors, with a couple earmarked for people who'd had to disappear early.
After all the drink and chat were finished, at or very shortly after closing time, flick and drpete took me back to their flat to crash, as previously arranged. Matresses were unfolded, duvets inserted into duvet cases, kitchens and bathrooms were pointed at, and we all collapsed. This would have been sometime between half-midnight and one o'clock.
I woke up at about eight and -- typical dougs -- fired up the laptop and posted an appeal for photos for the website. (Aside -- was hawkida the only one with a camera?) Pete emerged as I was shutting the laptop down, and did things with the kettle and coffee and toast and so on. In due course some strange being emerged, said good morning and disappeared into the bathroom. A little later Flick came out -- it had been her all along.
There was a news item on the radio: John Major and Edwina Currie had apparently been at it like, well, like conservative politicians. I suggested that in ten years time we might be hearing someting similar about John Prescott and Estelle Morris. Howls of outraged distaste emerged from my host and hostess.
There was much talk of shopping, and we undertook to leave as soon as Flick and I had done our emails. Laptops at twenty paces, you know how these things are. In due course we left the flat and headed back to London. Shopping seemed to consist of Pete pointing out shops and Flick saying "I was there the other day, they don't have my size" but I managed to buy a new pair of trousers and a nice T-shirt and I think Pete bought some stuff too. We then went to Camden Town, a part of London with which I am completely unfamiliar, and we continued listening to Flick being disparaging about the stock held by local retailers. Nevertheless, I found a nice pair of boots. Flick fought her way to the till to pay for them, reminding me that it was my birthday. The proprietor looked at me, raised his eyebrows and said "So she's the boss, then", perceptive chap.
We proceeded to Camden Lock Market, a remarkable collection of small stalls, including one particular area where about a dozen of these stalls sell different kinds of food -- Chinese, Indian, Pizza, etc -- where we had a late lunch. More shopping, more stuff that didn't fit Flick, and a stall which sold silk ties at three for twelve quid. I found two ties with computers on them, and one with Wallace and Grommit in their window-cleaning motor-bike and side-car.
Camden Town Tube Station was closed. Having started at Mornington Crescent, we continued north-eastwards to Chalk Farm, and picked up our southbound tube. Flick left us at Tottenham Court Road where she was meeting kjersti for more shopping, and Pete and I returned to the flat for a sit down and some bloke talk.
Leaving Brixton and heading north once more, I went to a pub near King's Cross to meet a bunch of ZZ9ers for beer and pizza. Because I was wearing my "Lust" T-shirt from last night, and because both Robert and Ian were wearing theirs, there was a bit of "That's a fine T-shirt, where did you get it" going on. alexmc was leaving as I arrived, but the remainder stayed. Including both Alex and I, there were eight of us: a ninth arrived a little later. Old toot was talked.
There was discussion about the day's news: John Major and Edwina Currie again. I suggested my Prescott/Morris theory once more, and on this occasion the howls of outraged distaste came from almost everyone.
Home at about ten pm and back to sanity. A good weeked so far.

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