millionreasons | Sunday Evening Perspective

We don’t seem to have been out on Friday for about a month. Peep Show is probably the reason for this, although we do have one of those new-fangled video recording machines. I love the Friday nite adverts for the free DVDs with Saturday newspapers. If the Mirror is your paper of choice you’ll get a “classic British comedy” DVD such as Porridge, Only Fools and Horses, or Open All Hours (the rule is that it has to feature David Jason or Ronnie Barker or both). The Sun has “classic British films” such as Carry on Cleopatra or Confessions of a Window Cleaner or even Benny Hill’s Greatest TV Moments. The Mail or the Express will have a Merchant Ivory or Lawrence of Arabia whilst the Independent and the Guardian will give away some critically acclaimed/box-office panned arthouser, especially if there are subtitles involved. The Times of course will have any pie in which R Murdoch has a finger.

Anyway, I didn’t buy any Saturday newspapers when we went down to Camberwell to visit the South London Gallery and to make a CD with Kim Gordon. Poor Kim, she’s gonna have an awful lot of very poor CDs to trawl through by 18^th December. She’ll probably give them to all her friends for Xmas: “Hey you guys! Listen to this hot new experimental-noise from London, England!” I would post an mp3 of the Everything Starts With a B (Dave#1 – drums, Dave#2 – bass, Rachel – Very Bad Guitar (I don’t even know the requisite punk rock 3 chords)) song, but really, I would be too ashamed. It sounded like we should be supporting electralane at Upstairs at the Garage. Afterwards, we wandered down to the Peckham Library which I never visited when I lived here, then hopped on a 177 to Greenwich to go to the piee and mashe shoppe (Peckham’s eating opportunities are limited to fried chicken or Wetherspoons). We had a look around the market and the glistening river and some snowstorm shops and end up in the Gypsy Moth (the pub not the boat) and DLR-d it back home (in time for Strictly Come Ballroom).

Sunday, Barry came round from ~~Ealing~~ New Zealand and we walked down the ever-lovely New River Path, complete with strawberry-blond trees and leaves fallen like red giants into the shining water to Upper St to read the Observer in the airline seats in Tinderbox and back in time to meet Richard to go up to Finsbury Park; the restaurant we intended to go to is shut, but we find a compromise at a Caribbean place for roti and aloo pie which is a tad microwaved but not bad VFM and then The World's End, of which I’ve previously been ~~scared~~ terrified, but it turns out to be Not Half Bad.