I missed the last night of Club Stay Beautiful last night, partly due to feeling utterly drained after a particularly intense and extended Fosca rehearsal (for our forthcoming big concert in Athens), and partly to an inaccountable revulsion at the thought of waiting at bus stops in the night. Which is silly. So I stayed at home, lay on my bed and watched the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0000695JR/202-8603749-0328621">"Mapp & Lucia" DVD</a>.
Still, I don't doubt the club will return in some format sooner rather than later. Otherwise where will people like me go when we DO want to get out of bed?
Tonight's intended sojourn will not involve bus stops, being a birthday celebration taking place as it does at The Boogaloo pub, then at the person's own home. Both of which I can see from the window to the right of my computer here in Highgate. The Boogaloo was once The Shepherds, where Coldplay had their secret gig a year or two ago. I was rather hoping that would mean the new Groucho Club was mere yards from my front door, but the owners sold up and it's now more of a low-lighting wine bar with a phoney name. Still, the jukebox has Nick Cave albums on it.
The person whose one step closer to the grave people are cheering is Mr Taylor Parkes, the writer and failed gynaecologist. Providing he can be dragged away from scouring Popbitch for stories about himself.
