On Friday we went to see The G's (who are better than their website would indicate) at the Zodiac. It was a pretty mad night. They have bagpipes, they have guitars and bass and they have lots of drums. You love it or you hate it. I have seen them three times and loved them twice, and this was one of those. The noise was huge, everyone knew everyone else, it was quite druggy but not in an exclusive way, and all in all it was like a little mini festival in the middle of winter in the middle of a city at the end of a stressful week. My legs still ache.
Rather unwisely, we then went on to a party, where I suspect I was not quite as sparkling a conversationalist as I fancied myself, and where I probably smelt unattractively of sweat and stale beer. There was whiskey involved (D'oh!) and there was a shambolic walk home at some bonkers hour.
So Saturday was a bit of a DNS day. This is a useful new word I have learnt from Ms E: it stands for Dark Night of the Soul. In this context, it means stay in bed, feel bleak, get up, eat soup, bathe, go back to bed, read science fiction in the absence of anything else to read, feel bleaker.
Bleakness was compounded by rain. We had tickets for Your Song (local bands playing v short covers sets), again at the Zodiac, and we nearly didn't make it. But housemate S was up for it, and our nights out as housemates are rare these days, so off we went. It was v much worth it... in fact Sexy Breakfast's Hallelujah was worth the ticket price all on its own, and I was very happy to bump into Jeremy as people prepared to dance to Total Eclipse of the Heart are quite thin on the ground, and it's no fun on your own.
And the next morning it was sunny. Very, very sunny. M prised me out of bed and into a coat, scarf and gloves, and we went for a walk on Shotover Hill. My head was cleared and my lungs were filled with wintery splintery air.
You need to make space to recover. But without things to recover from, where would we be?
joella
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