I just had a call from the police Child Protection people. Fortunately they hadn't caught up with me (so now all I have to do is avoid homicidal 14 year olds) and it was about work. I was just faintly disappointed it wasn't the fantastically named Sergeant Borg.

Anyway, to the weekend.

Friday, as my avid reader will know was pretty much a write-off as I spent it in bed and sweating (very much not in a good way) and except for perhaps an hour of fussball slept through until 10am on Saturday morning. Fortunately I was much better when I woke up and had only a small lead balloon in my abdomen rather than the zeppelin of Thursday night. I had two choices - take it easy and relax or go clubbing in London.

Of course I did the latter.

This was a reasonably-good idea. Thanks to flywingedmonkey I got a lift down, then floated around Angel for a couple of hours with a book while kantti attempted to buy a ticket in Winchester; met with minusbat; watched the two of them eat sushi (appetite==0) then went out to Strength Through Joy. Lovely club, great music, a handful of people I recognised though didn't talk to (being rooted to my chair rather than having any urge to move), then almost went to Slimelight (though felt better of the idea). Would be much better with volume set at 9 rather than 11 though.

Sunday started rather late but had food, a little more fussball, then a horrendously long, tedious, noisy, unpleasant couple of hours. Yes - I was on a Virgin Train.

And collapse. After Doctor Who - which was a bit dull I thought.

Tags: club, london, music, train