ComEnts

I woke up this morning (der der-der-der der) to the news that today is officially the most depressing day of the year. Well, Mondays are pretty bad, but it was actually fairly pleasant walking in to work from where I parked my car and getting caught in a light dusting of snow. But I see their point.

This weekend saw me doing my best to drink myself into a world of trouble (and most people try to drink themselves out of a world of trouble..). You see, this is one of those times where I wonder if it is wise for me to detail the events in my life for all the world to see. I can’t even change the names to protect the innocent, as too many people will still be able to piece things together and it won’t just be me who gets in trouble. Anyway, thankfully I managed to get away with a couple of questionable decisions on Friday night - and when I say "get away with" I mean "wasn't stupid or drunk enough to do any real or lasting damage to myself or others". I'm probably completely wrong, or reading too much into events, but I definitely have a guilty feeling following me around today.

I have apologised to the girl I was trying to seduce by text Fri night, I actually think that her boyfriend is an alright bloke and I shoulda known better!

To the girl I woke up with on Sat morning - although nothing happened, it was just one of those friendly, snuggling, non-sexual things - the above statement also applies.

Guilt is worse when you don’t actually have anything to feel guilty about - at least if you've done something to feel guilty about then you probably had a great time doing it.

Saturday was productive, despite particularly aggressive and tenacious hangover: achieved much and discharged several important duties that were key to my continuation as a member of my family. For the first time since records began, I did not have a rehearsal or a gig on a Saturday - I almost didn’t know what to do with myself - celebrated by watching rugby on TV and letting my body recover from the previous night's exploits before hooking up with James Glanville, golden-throated singer in White Sunday (we have our first gig at the 3B's on 9th Feb) at the Pitcher and Piano in Reading. Met a load of his mates, all of whom were sound as a pound, and proceeded to get stuck into the JD with Jim. Off to Revolution we went (yeah, I know, you don’t have to say anything. It's free to get in and it's open late, OK?) where we drank and hung out some more.

Spent a good deal of time trying to figure out which ones of Jim's attractive lady friends were single, being as they were pretty foxy! Don't think any of them were though, gutted. Anyway, all was going well until James - being the gentleman he is - felt the need to defend his own girlfriend from some unwarranted abuse. Fair play to him. I remember thinking as he was frog-marched out the door by the security "You, sir, *hic!* embody the finesss, mos' chivalrousss elements tha any man could wish to uphold". I got the low-down on what happened afterwards, sounds like pretty standard fare, somebody-had-too-much-to-drink-and-some-issues-to-get-off-their-chest stuff, and it was more rough-and-tumble than a proper fight, so no biggie. If I recall correctly, the main beef was that someone thought that James thought he was a rock star (which can be annoying), but I think J has a pretty good claim to at least being one of the brightest musical talents in Reading, we should be able to back up his attitude with plaudits pretty soon.

Sunday was another exercise in hangover management. Had to deliver some books to a friend of my mum's at about midday - heading out into the blinding sunshine was painful, but worth it. The lady in question turned out to be much foxier than I had remembered, and luckily for me she had time to stop and chat for a while. Hmm.. Bet she's not single, tho. Curse my over-developed sense of morality. Aren’t rock guitarists supposed to be excluded from the normal rules of social interaction? Then why does my conscience prevent me from stepping on anyone else's toes? Actually, now I think about it, I seem to save that sort of thing for very, very, very special cases. And I think that's the way I prefer it. So I've boiled my own argument down to "Why aren't there more single women (whom I don’t work with) around?", which I suppose is a fairly common lament.

So, after a brief encounter in a car-park in Caversham it was off to pick up Nat from Marlow and head over to the studio in Hackney for a Red Antennae rehearsal for a gig this Friday in Islington (http://www.blogger.com/app/www.larkinthepark.com). Except we aren’t called Red Antennae anymore, Red Antennae has now become the label name for all of Dan's projects, we have been re-branded(!) as Stonepark, after Stonor Park nr Henley. I maintain that it would be better to wait until the new site was complete and ready to launch before we announce the change, but Dan and Nat just want to get on with it, so it's kind of being filtered out in phases. Rehearsal sounded great, Nat is looking much better after her recent mumps-and-conjunctivitis bout, and we even got to work on some new tracks, so pretty productive! I felt bad about not visiting my bro and his better half who live in Hackney, but we are always so pushed for time that we are usually in and out and battling through traffic back to Reading without having done half the things we want to. Oh well, to misquote Homer J - "Just because I don’t visit don’t mean I don’t love you."

Dropped Nat back, stayed for a cuppa and caught the start of "Never Mind the Buzzcocks", then back home for a re-heated roast dinner courtesy of my sister. Lovely! Mmmm….! Brussel Sprouts! Top one, nice one - sorted. And Bez won Big Brother! They say that every band has to have good chemistry, and he was the best chemist in Manchester.