Secret champagne
Phoned by Pat in the morning to work on a pitch with him and the French bloke starting tomorrow. It seems the Gods of Copy are still taking care of me as this is great timing.
Then up to London, phoned on the train to say that my payment timesheets had finally been processed thanks to Al. I suppose I shouldn't complain. I've only been trying to sort it out for five weeks.
Into Hammersmith to discover Mike Ferg hiding behind a telephone box on Fulham Palace Road. Turns out he was going to meet Mike (a.k.a the Gnome) this afternoon. I popped into my accountants and found the reason for no contact from them: my accountant is on holiday. Went into my old agency and had a chat with Al and met Christina in reception. There I bumped into Mike Ferg again with Nick, my old boss who have me a hug and told me to come for a drink with them. He is now based in LA and having a fantastic time, having fallen in love with the can-do US mentality. We had a restrained single beer which was fine.
Then I decided to head off to Victoria with Mike Ferg to meet The Gnome. Had a few more drinks in the hotel there. It was Ferg's first drink for two months having been fighting off cancer with apparent resillience and good humour for the last few years. Always good to see Mike my old partner too. Ferg insisted we cross the road to a wine bar, and the Gnome and I scored some modest drinks and sat down. Ferg, who had tarried at the bar, returned with a bottle of champagne.
Feeling somewhat drunk, bade farewell to the stereo Mikes, and travelled to Brentford where I knew I could get a treatment for fish white spot. Then a steadying walk back to Chiswick. Here I went to the Bulls Head where I found Eva, who sprang from behind the bar and gave me a big hug, and took me to a special table where she plied me with coffee and sparkling mineral water.
Soon First Matie arrived and we had a good gossip. She is moving away from Strand on the Green somewhere else. She's not sure where yet, but she has given in her notice so she'll have to sort it out soon. Brighton is the obvious place of course, but she is resisting this as she claims I will accuse her of copying. Matty soon arived looking tanned. Then we were joined by David, one of the local Strand on the Green posse. Ultimately the French Bloke appeared like an extra from Star Wars in his science fiction bike gear. More drinks, a real amassing of old friends. Eventually, and much to the relief of liver and kidneys, the call of the seagull was heard and I set off home.
I arrived at midnight and dosed the tropical fish with blue chemicals.
Below stereo Mikes, Ferg left and the Gnome right.
Phoned by Pat in the morning to work on a pitch with him and the French bloke starting tomorrow. It seems the Gods of Copy are still taking care of me as this is great timing.
Then up to London, phoned on the train to say that my payment timesheets had finally been processed thanks to Al. I suppose I shouldn't complain. I've only been trying to sort it out for five weeks.
Into Hammersmith to discover Mike Ferg hiding behind a telephone box on Fulham Palace Road. Turns out he was going to meet Mike (a.k.a the Gnome) this afternoon. I popped into my accountants and found the reason for no contact from them: my accountant is on holiday. Went into my old agency and had a chat with Al and met Christina in reception. There I bumped into Mike Ferg again with Nick, my old boss who have me a hug and told me to come for a drink with them. He is now based in LA and having a fantastic time, having fallen in love with the can-do US mentality. We had a restrained single beer which was fine.
Then I decided to head off to Victoria with Mike Ferg to meet The Gnome. Had a few more drinks in the hotel there. It was Ferg's first drink for two months having been fighting off cancer with apparent resillience and good humour for the last few years. Always good to see Mike my old partner too. Ferg insisted we cross the road to a wine bar, and the Gnome and I scored some modest drinks and sat down. Ferg, who had tarried at the bar, returned with a bottle of champagne.
Feeling somewhat drunk, bade farewell to the stereo Mikes, and travelled to Brentford where I knew I could get a treatment for fish white spot. Then a steadying walk back to Chiswick. Here I went to the Bulls Head where I found Eva, who sprang from behind the bar and gave me a big hug, and took me to a special table where she plied me with coffee and sparkling mineral water.
Soon First Matie arrived and we had a good gossip. She is moving away from Strand on the Green somewhere else. She's not sure where yet, but she has given in her notice so she'll have to sort it out soon. Brighton is the obvious place of course, but she is resisting this as she claims I will accuse her of copying. Matty soon arived looking tanned. Then we were joined by David, one of the local Strand on the Green posse. Ultimately the French Bloke appeared like an extra from Star Wars in his science fiction bike gear. More drinks, a real amassing of old friends. Eventually, and much to the relief of liver and kidneys, the call of the seagull was heard and I set off home.
I arrived at midnight and dosed the tropical fish with blue chemicals.
Below stereo Mikes, Ferg left and the Gnome right.
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