End of the noughties
Feel I should put some chin stroking thoughtful stuff in here today, but I've never been one for seeing random calendar events as major landmarks. But the noughties were a lively time for me. I look forward to the new year with a mix of vague apprehension and great excitement.
Spent the day working up my new short story, called Where the beauty is which has turned out well, and clocking in very short at 1.5k.
Celebrated new year's eve with Lorraine. We sloped off to the Agra, our usual curry haunt, for an early curry. The food back on form again, which is good. Ash the chatty owner loves Lorraine and so gave us a free glass of bubbly with our poppadoms. Then we walked back through Brighton, back through knots of lightly-clothed revellers off to the dives of West Street.
We repaired to the Battle of Trafalgar, which was crammed. A band called Flat Stanley, a "trad-jazz-ska-punk-country outfit" parped bizarrely through a diverse repertoire, and were strangely perfect for the occasion. An altogethery atmosphere, and we were soon talking to several people in the pub, including a couple we swapped numbers with at the end of the night.
The bongs of Big Ben resounded through the pub as the science fiction year of 2010 stole across the UK. And, in my local at least, it arrived amid a melee of kissing and handshakes. Happy new year everyone.
Feel I should put some chin stroking thoughtful stuff in here today, but I've never been one for seeing random calendar events as major landmarks. But the noughties were a lively time for me. I look forward to the new year with a mix of vague apprehension and great excitement.
Spent the day working up my new short story, called Where the beauty is which has turned out well, and clocking in very short at 1.5k.
Celebrated new year's eve with Lorraine. We sloped off to the Agra, our usual curry haunt, for an early curry. The food back on form again, which is good. Ash the chatty owner loves Lorraine and so gave us a free glass of bubbly with our poppadoms. Then we walked back through Brighton, back through knots of lightly-clothed revellers off to the dives of West Street.
We repaired to the Battle of Trafalgar, which was crammed. A band called Flat Stanley, a "trad-jazz-ska-punk-country outfit" parped bizarrely through a diverse repertoire, and were strangely perfect for the occasion. An altogethery atmosphere, and we were soon talking to several people in the pub, including a couple we swapped numbers with at the end of the night.
The bongs of Big Ben resounded through the pub as the science fiction year of 2010 stole across the UK. And, in my local at least, it arrived amid a melee of kissing and handshakes. Happy new year everyone.
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