I had been planning on a meditative 6-mile walk home and then a sensibly early night, but.... the atmosphere was horribly dusty that evening, and I grew desperate for a restorative drink to slake my parched throat. I decided to look in at what has recently become one of the most regular of my local haunts, Room 101, and began busily text-messaging friends to see if anyone fancied joining me. By chance, several of them had been having dinner nearby, and rolled up half an hour after I arrived. And, in a further outbreak of serendipity, I happened to bump into another friend on the street who tipped me off that one of my guitarist buddies was debuting there with his new jazz group that night. I arrived just in time for that.
A fine night suddenly evolved out of nothing; and 'just the one' became a 4-and-a-half hour session.
I do worry, though, that 101 is becoming a threat to my mental health, a challenge to my avowed asexualism. On the evidence of that night, it may be starting to outstrip The Library Bar as a magnet for beautiful women. My Gorgeousness Geiger Counter was off the scale. Oh dear!
2 comments:
you wouldn't believe the sedate life I'm living in The City That Never Sleeps... esp compared to what 101 has to offer.
But then, I could partake in all sorts of craziness in the Big Apple and still not match up to our life in the Jing.
I want to be there to hear that band and see you go ga-ga over those gorgeous-gals...
I don't suppose you did anything like buy one of them a drink or asked one to dance. I fully suspect you spent the evening neglecting all your text-summoned friends, chatting up the gorgeous gals with your charm and exchanging mobile numbers within 5 minutes of saying hellow.
No, no, I hung with my friends, and studiously ignored all the gorgeousness.
A very tricky milieu anyway, what with there being some-history here and no-future there.....
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