Friday, 22 February 2013

The Brits

So Georgia's bloke helps building the TV set at the Brits where they do the interviews. Sounds like a shaggy dog story. Anyway - he had free passes to the after show party (the one at the O2 rather than the ones where the A listers were papped drunk) and he gave them to Georgia and she gave one to me. To get into the awards ceremony itself he said I needed to just walk with him and pretend I worked there. In an unusual choice for me I was wearing a yellow dress and pink high heels (the girl who always wears black this is) so decided I would just large through the doors and security like a celebrity and nobody said boo to the goose. Opened doors for me and waved me through. We stood by the entrance - could see all the celebs squeezing through to get out for a fag, get interviewed or go back stage to present awards or perform. Lots of them were extremely short. I felt like a giant, particularly with my diminutive companions. So Sharon Osbourne looked like a witch, Ben Drew was hanging with a man in a beautiful blue silk embroidered suit and kept popping out for a fag - I was disappointed he didn't win anything, I think Johnny Depp although I wasn't sure if it was a look alike, Robbie Williams also surprisingly short, Damon Albarn who was accosted by a worker fan and behaved impeccably like an old mate on being accosted, Jessie J in a practically frontless dress. Amongst others including a woman in a silver frock that made it into most of the papers - wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen - so easily could have been a boob falling out of it. Fireworks, light shows and plenty of stage direction. Time for a break, please be back in your seats in 2 and a half minutes ladies and gentlemen the next song starts gently and we need to have quiet. At which swathes of people from the tables ran for the toilet/smoking area/VIP bar and didn't make it back in the allotted time.

After the close - dead on 10pm we went to the after show party - free rides on a carousel, dodgems, a medical tent where they plied you with pill packs of jelly bellies, cake with syrup out if a blood bag and I took a Damien Hirst chocolate skull out of the medicine cabinet. They made me wear blue bags over my shoes and tried to take my blood pressure. Then we went to the oxygen bar and breathed deeply through flavoured water (slightly light headed). Watched the reportedly worlds strongest woman lift two men on her shoulders with two swings on a yoke. Later danced on a Damian Hirst spotted dance floor with lots if producer and tv exec types in suits and crazy moves from the early 80s. Bad dad dancing rules ok. At 11.30pm the sensible of our party departed but I never want to go once I get there and missed my last connection and had to catch the night bus. On a school night. Stoopid! But fun.

Thursday, 14 February 2013

Averted disasters

Spent the night at Mr's, took my rucksack with kit for swimming later today - on the crowded train stuck it in the overhead shelf. Telling self several times not to forget it. At top of the escalator at Moorgate I realised I had left it there (highly susceptible to forgetting stuff at the moment). Ran back down to the train begging nobody in particular for the train not to have left. Running up the platform towards 3 train workers calling out don't let the train go - I've left my bag on it!
Why did you leave your bag?
Don't know!
What was it like?
Black rucksack
Did it have anything on it?
No. Oh yes - timberland.
Oh sorry madam, he said grinning, it's too late the train is locked, as his colleague brought the bag out of the office.

Friday, 8 February 2013

Good Morning Goodlooking

A man strolls along past Tescos, catches sight of his reflection, checks his impression. Headphones, stripped wool hat fitting neatly, leather jacket - length to belt, jeans clean and neat. Checks again in the next set of windows. Overall impression - all present and correct, tied down. Stroll becomes swagger.