A Quiet Life

I used to be such a sociable creature. This time last year, the walls of my apartment could have been forgiven for thinking that they only ever stared at each other, because I was hardly ever at home. These days, those same walls must be sick of staring at me – because I stay home rather a lot now. Oh, there were occasions in the previous life when I was at home too, yes indeed, I wasn't always out on the town. But usually, if I were at home, I would not be alone at the time – usually I would have someone else, or maybe two people, or maybe three, or maybe even a whole crowd of people with me, as I served up enough food and alcohol to feed the Red Army. God, they were some parties!

But now, I lead a very sedentary life. Friday was a good evening – we had dinner in Shaw's where 'Sould' was playing (a really cool, laid back soul band with a fantastic lead singer who has the most fabulous teeth you've ever seen). Again, the place was jumping and it was just another example of the wealth of entertainment that can be found just a few yards from my home. After that we went on to Nottingham's newest venue for live music (and much else), the Jamcafé in Heathcoat Street. My friend Ali was playing there, but we arrived too late and missed him. Luckily, we were able to catch then end of the performance by 'Shakes' which is a great band that I've seen before – they are described as delivering a "big, lively & raucous soul sound", and "made to make you shake yer money maker!" A good night, but remind me to tell you (again) about the BEST band currently emerging from Nottingham - I've written about 'Captain Dangerous' before and I'll never tire of singing their praises (except that I can't sing - unlike the boys in the band).

Anyway yesterday, drowning under a tsunami of paperwork, I decided to stay home. I don't often witness my walls enjoying themselves on a Saturday evening, and a strange sight it was too. I tried to watch television while I worked, but there appeared to be nothing showing except for vacuous quiz shows and vapid medical dramas, so I switched off. This had two effects: I was able to get to bed early and so could do my next Spanish lesson whilst propped up on pillows with a decent draught of whisky on the table beside me; and then I was able to wake up this morning without the usual furry head and throat and thereby I could sit – again propped up on pillows, but this time with a cup of delicious, scalding hot tea beside me. What luxury!

Today I have passed the time still kicking my legs against the paperwork (I'm slowly getting to the surface; sunlight beckons) and doing a whole load of washing too. Strangely, nobody has contacted me – except for the usual requests for assistance (why do people only ever contact me when they need something?) - and apart from taking a quick drive in the sunshine with the hood down on the car, I haven't seen another living soul all day.

So there you have it, dear reader. You thought that you might be tuning in to read about my exploits canoeing down the Zambezi river (by the way, I must tell you about that some time – for once, Great-Aunt Dolores wasn't with me, having been imprisoned for "embezzlement" by the Angolan authorities; how we laughed!), but instead you find yourself reading about my perfectly boring lifestyle. How crazy is that?

Adios.