It's a Sunday, i'm feeling wonderfully invigorated after being pelted by the shower, my hair is fresh and tousled, falling in moist ringlets over my eyes, head tilted coquettishly, towel slung casually over one shoulder...I'm sure you get the picture. It's a nice picture. Anyway...to my utmost horror my lock is completely and utterly jammed. Moments later horror strikes again, as i realise what a terribly mundane anecdote the whole affair is going to make. Anyway, five soggy hours later the Fearnley-Whittingstall-esque locksmith drags himself away from his glazed ham-shank for long enough to install a new one (a lock, not ham-shank), everything is wonderful, primroses burst from my ears, rainbows spill forth from the rather attractive warden's eyes, i realise that 5 hours sitting on a cold towel has done absolutely nothing for my mental health.
Anyway, i arrive home this evening, new key in hand glistening like excalibur, my wrist already swivelling in anticipation....It doesn't fucking work. To cut a long story short, The Halls in their infinite wisdom ordered a second new lock to replace the replaced one, slipping a letter underneath my door asking me to come and collect the new key. Can you spot the fatal flaw in their logic? They slipped a letter under my door. The bastards.
Ahem, i'm glad we got that over and done with, aren't you? Like an awkward first date, blogger and blog-reader mentally spar, both fickle in their commitment, attempting to interest but not to push to far. I hope i pitch at the right level, stories about getting locked out are always fascinating.
Founds some great stores in Camden the other week, the first being a record store; I can't remember what it was called but it has an old American DJ in the basement gently singing along to his choices. I bought The Auteur's second record in there. Right next door is a comic book shop owned by what must be a rather anal fellow, for he bags not just his singles but the trade paperbacks as well! What madness! What inconcievable insanity! But maybe he's onto something.
I apologise for not having much interesting to say right now, after the massive work-related climax of last week i'm in a distinctly post-coital lull, which i think may last well into next week.
Some girls only have room for themselves.