The last 2 weeks have shot past me in a furious blur, leaving me pretty startled and clutching at any thread of reality I can. Work has been pretty hectic both at the university and the O2 Academy.
Somewhat terrifyingly, I've been responsible for spending around 4-figures of the university's money and can't help but think that people like me are at fault for rising tuition fees. So, soz and that.
I am however struggling to come out of my shell at the moment. It's all a bit serious and concentration levels rarely allow for humour. Well. That and the fact I'm sat in the far corner of a large office, nearly hanging out of the fourth floor window.
At the Academy, I endured a set from MGMT who, to be frank (you can be Bob), put on what has to be one of the dullest performances I've ever seen. It was flat and lifeless, much like slug who just didn't see that size 9 coming. One word; Dog. Shit.
On the plus side, the Academy celebrated it's second anniversary by giving me, the bar staff and the box office crew free beer and a pretty memorable Groove Armada show. Despite the crowd being full of Moby look-a-likes and their career-woman girlfriends, they got down with the brilliant live set.
Brandon Flowers also shone last Thursday. I've been more than a smidge unforthcoming with Brenda's solo stuff, but sweet child of mine did he put on a show. He meant every word that bellowed from his Mormon mouth and was only fuelled further by the 1,500 screams from the teenage girls populating the area surrounding him.
The highlights of the last fortnight or so, without doubt in my fried mind, have been the Musicology nights at Faversham. I was pished enough to barely remember a brief liaison with a fellow DJ Yoda fan but recall the night to be a strong, strong family outing. So much so, it would have taken something pretty special from Mr Scruff and Andy Fairweather's eagerly anticipated birthday party to outshine our night with Yoda.
Luckily for us, 'special' was well and truly on the menu last Friday.
Despite the odd ticket worry (for Adam, Emily and JP - who travelled up ticket-less from Bristol to surprise his bestest friend Andy - which he did), Andy was lucky enough to have a huuuuuge contingency in his company who more than contributed to celebrating his 21st birthday in quite some style.
It's been just lovely knowing Andy, although I do find it a little weird that I met two of my closest friends by chatting them up in bars. Bizarre non?
My good friend and fellow idiot Matthew had his second child a couple of weeks ago - so hello to Charlie Fletcher Hodgins and congratulations again to Matt and Jess. It was at their house early on Sunday October 3rd when I first met the wee man and sat down to take on the pretty flawed Glastonbury ticketing system. After 4 or 5 fruitless hours, Andy Wightman M.B.E once again stepped up to the plate and scored me a ticket. One day, there will be a statue of the said Wightman in Pudsey. One day...
Glastonbury 2011. Yey.
I had a chance meeting with Cold Feet actor James Nesbitt at the Hyde Park pub yesterday evening. He and his less-than-attractive lady friend followed myself, Alan and Becca outside waving my hoody aloft thinking that I'd left it inside by accident. I had, obviously, left it there purposely (with half a pint) to mark our territory. He apologised for taking our seats and it was all very pleasant.
Still...fucking actors.
