Minor celebrities ahoy!

We just had one of our semi-regular fire alarms here at Clerkenwell Towers, in which everybody empties out into the street and I get to wear a fetching fluorescent yellow tabard.


The cafe next to my office was evacuated too. And who should come out, holding a coffee cup? Why, only the delectable Rupert Graves:

firedrill2.jpg

 

Unfortunately, he wasn't wearing a vest and a provocative pout, as in this picture. Rather, he was in a tracksuit and his hair was long and straggly and up in a half ponytail. He was also so tanned that he looked like he'd been carved out of teak. Very disappointing. I prefer to think of him as he was in Room With A View - i.e. butt-naked and jumping into a river.


Accompanying him was the not-quite-so-delectable, but still-pretty-hot-despite-being-very-bald Mark Strong:

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And also there was the not-at-all-hot, apparently-a-bit-of-an-arrogant-arse actor and playwright, Patrick Marber:

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His lips are too rubbery, especially in real life. They disturb me.


So what "famous" people have you seen today?
2.6.06 12:50


Bad Ideas Of Our Time #21

Monkeying around with 20six, thereby making it a horrible mess which gives this blogger a pressure headache.

Why can't people leave well enough alone? Eh? Why?

And why do we have to know HTML in order to blog now? Where have all the formatting buttons gone ("long time passing...")?

This was the biggest Bad Idea of the lot.

I think this might be it for me. Unless somebody tells me how I can make this blog look halfway decent, I'm either off to pastures new or giving up this whole blogging malarkey entirely.
5.6.06 11:01


Separated at birth

Okay, so I've chilled the heck out vis a vis the Great Blog Shift.

Now, onto more pressing matters - to whit, my current dizzy infatuation with this young fellow:

His name is Ross Millard, and he is the guitar player for the popular beat combo The Futureheads.

Now I have already noted Mr Millard's striking resemblance to a certain trilby-wearing Irishman (see blogs passim). So maybe this is why I find myself glued to the telly every time The Futureheads' new video comes on MTV2 - which is approximately every 45 minutes.

It's okay to fancy someone because they remind you of your boyfriend, isn't it?

Oh.
5.6.06 15:39


6.6.06

It's the Tuesday of the Beast! The End of Days is here, and has been heralded by... um... well... a nice sunny day... errr... a bit of a snarl-up on the Holloway Road... um...  I spilt ground coffee all over my freezer... The Apocalypse is surely nigh! For doth it not say in Revelations 13:

And I saw a beast coming up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten diadems, and upon his heads names of blasphemy. And the beast did try to open the freezer drawer, but lo! the drawer was frozen shut. And the beast did yank at the drawer until it opened half way, then did try to pull out the bag of Morrisons "The Best" ground coffee. But the coffee did spill upon the ground, and upon the frozen peas, and upon the garlic pizza bread. And the beast opened his mouth unto blasphemies against God, and did say "fuck" and also "bollocks".

We're clearly all doomed. Start hoarding bottled water and cans of peaches now, people.

 

Actually, I've got rather hooked on my morning coffee. Those of you with long memories may recall Coffeeshop Jez, a.k.a. Ersatz Julian, a.k.a. The Fucktard Who Dumped Me On New Year's Eve.  Anyway, just before he dropped me like a hot coal, he gave me a very cool stovetop coffee pot. I never used it (probably because it reminded me of him), but the other day I thought I'd see if it made good coffee.

"Good" doesn't really cover it. It's black gold. Thick, treacly and incredibly strong.

So I've started making myself a pot every morning. And now I can't stop. It's like crack, only tastier. Onthe plus side, I now have the energy to put my makeup on first thing in the morning, which can only be of benefit to me (and to the world in general).
6.6.06 10:12


My body is a temple

Check me out, gang. I'm getting healthy.

Not a drop of the demon drink has passed my lips in a fortnight. That's TWO WHOLE WEEKS, people. That's is the longest I've been off the sauce since I was at University (when my sordid love affair with the grape and the grain began in earnest).

And I don't even miss it all that much. Sure, I get the urge for a cold continental lager whenever I enter a pub, but an icy pint of lime and lemonade is almost as good. Almost.

Also, I'm actually managing to get my 5 portions of fruit and veg a day. This is astonishing, insofar as I will happily go for months without a single piece of fruit passing my lips. I put my success in this field down to the joys of Bircher muesli with banana, blueberries and raspberries. And seeds. And honey. Yowza. I've got a bowl on the go as I type and by Christ it's tasty. A fruity jamboree in my mouth.

Of course, it won't last. I'm going to France for a big wedding in two weeks' time, so it will be champagne and vin rouge and brioche and stinky cheese for me then, oh yes.
13.6.06 10:19


Doppelganger

The Futureheads gig, last night.

YAAGers: See! The guy on the right, the guitarist. It's you.

Trilby: Dear God, you're right. Now I know what I'd be like if I'd taken up the guitar aged 13.

The universe goes "fwip".
13.6.06 14:22


Apparently there's a football match on...

It's not bad working here, you know. I've got my free Shiatsu massage booked for this afternoon, and we have TVs set up all around the office so we can watch the World Cup. Even better, the powers that be here at Clerkenwell Towers have decreed that those members of staff who wish to watch the football off-site may leave at 4:30pm.

So I am leaving half an hour early today. But not to watch the football. Oh no. Instead, I am going to go and have some noodles - which will be the first proper dinner I will have had in TWO WEEKS. Up to this point, my evening meal has consisted of biscuits and tea. Mmmm, healthy.

(I'm rehearsing evenings and weekends, y'see. Football? What football...?)

 
15.6.06 13:09


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