How long it's been since I've bought something from the ice cream van. The ice cream van hits our street at least twice a day at the weekend and once every night during the week and I've never used it. Not until tonight. Ka had an ice cream and I bought myself a Dime bar, or a Daim bar, as they are now known (I'm a sucker for that sweet almondy taste). A late dessert. Today was a lazy day. Got off to a slow start with a headache from last night's beverage intake in Glasgow's West End and the rest of the day did not really pick up any pace. Skipped the usual Sunday worship for the first time in months - body worship in this case. Will just have to do double the workout at the gym on Wednesday.
Watched some of The Mighty Boosh in the afternoon followed by some messing about on iTunes. For some reason I missed most of the adventures of Howard Moon and Vince Noir when originally aired so am watching them all on DVD now. Fantastically, brilliantly weird stuff. As evening approached, Ka made a beautiful chicken dinner with paprika, spices and chillis together with some salad and tatties and have now just sat and watched Bayona and Del Toro's 'The Orphanage'. A brilliant little spanish horror about a family losing a son in mysterious circumstances in a supposedly haunted orphanage. Last night's night out in town seems like ages ago already. Ka, Chaz and myself went out into the West End after laughing at the X factor following dinner. Hitting The Loft first and then moving on to Media, or is it The Venue? The club underneath Oran Mor anyway, with its overpriced entry fee, serving overpriced drinks and dark, crowded interior in which going to the bar is a major undertaking. A bit like one of Howard Moon's quests. We had a good laugh though, especially when Ka kept slipping on the dancefloor and subtly tried to blend it in to her natural dance moves. Naturally, she did not pull the wool over my eyes. No siree.
Unlike afterwards when we were walking back up Byres Road, after a short needless walk, and some guy was singing something along the lines of 'Nice leather Jacket! You've got a nice leather jacket! Nice leather Jaaaaacket!' along to the tune of "There's only one 'football player's name inserted here'". Making a point of stopping and saying thank you very much, I then proceeded to tell him I'd got it as a Christmas present from my dearest Ka, not realising he had not actually stopped chanting at me. Ka pulled me away hurriedly tutting under her breath. There's nothing wrong with my leather jacket. It's the height of fashion! Just jealous, obviously...
Watched some of The Mighty Boosh in the afternoon followed by some messing about on iTunes. For some reason I missed most of the adventures of Howard Moon and Vince Noir when originally aired so am watching them all on DVD now. Fantastically, brilliantly weird stuff. As evening approached, Ka made a beautiful chicken dinner with paprika, spices and chillis together with some salad and tatties and have now just sat and watched Bayona and Del Toro's 'The Orphanage'. A brilliant little spanish horror about a family losing a son in mysterious circumstances in a supposedly haunted orphanage. Last night's night out in town seems like ages ago already. Ka, Chaz and myself went out into the West End after laughing at the X factor following dinner. Hitting The Loft first and then moving on to Media, or is it The Venue? The club underneath Oran Mor anyway, with its overpriced entry fee, serving overpriced drinks and dark, crowded interior in which going to the bar is a major undertaking. A bit like one of Howard Moon's quests. We had a good laugh though, especially when Ka kept slipping on the dancefloor and subtly tried to blend it in to her natural dance moves. Naturally, she did not pull the wool over my eyes. No siree. 
Unlike afterwards when we were walking back up Byres Road, after a short needless walk, and some guy was singing something along the lines of 'Nice leather Jacket! You've got a nice leather jacket! Nice leather Jaaaaacket!' along to the tune of "There's only one 'football player's name inserted here'". Making a point of stopping and saying thank you very much, I then proceeded to tell him I'd got it as a Christmas present from my dearest Ka, not realising he had not actually stopped chanting at me. Ka pulled me away hurriedly tutting under her breath. There's nothing wrong with my leather jacket. It's the height of fashion! Just jealous, obviously...
1 comment:
Ha! Sounds like and average night in the West End. I think that leather jacket bloke might be the same one who sang 'you've got a nice pair of tits' at me to the same tune, while walking along Byres Rd.
The ice cream van here at my mum's place in Manchester play 'Strangers in the Night' as it crawls around at 3m. Used to sell weed. Not sure if this is still the case.
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