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My third appearance on Sunday Brunch today, to promote the DVD record in Cardiff next week (which we didn't mention) and my kickstarter campaign (but I wasn't allowed to mention kickstarter or give a link and could only talk about crowdfunding). But never mind, it was good to be up early after a gig night and to get out of the house. And to carry on feeling as if I was in a strange dream, but as “row row row the boat†teaches us, that's what we are.
I love the surreal atmosphere at Sunday Brunch, and always get to meet interesting people and get some free grub, so what's not to like. I also enjoy the fact that I get into quite a philosophical discussion with Simon and Tim, this time about the nature of happiness. Plus it was a pleasure to meet the super smooth and even more handsome in real life Adrian Lester, a very talented actor and it turns out martial artist. We did a feature where we drank martinis together and we agreed the driest one was the best, but only he noticed that the olives in it had been kept in oil which had tainted the drink a little, with an almost invisible oil slick.
Although the chat was good fun and they got some mileage out of my skiing video, my favourite bit was tasting the food and the Martinis. I was obviously a bit tired, but also I think I am just a clumsy idiot because the food kept falling off my fork. The third time it happened I almost forgot where I was and started saying “For fuck's sake†but luckily stopped just before the second word popped out. But the Japanese beef and the lamb chops were utterly delicious, as was the third cocktail, which was the Goldilocks one for me in spite of the oily olive and as we were near the end of the show I decided to keep that one with me for the last twenty minutes, sipping at it until it was all gone and I was lightly stewed with a luxurious and high-quality pre-lunch Martini.
It certainly elevated my mood for the next 90 minutes, making the world seem both sharper and more blurry at the same time, giving more of a druggy feeling than a drunken one (I imagine). I had to pick up some groceries on the way home and shopping turned into a Herculean task, both bedazzled by the weird array of products and exhausted by the prospect of getting them home.
I had promised to look after Phoebe all afternoon, but wondered whether I was in a fit state. But by the time I was home I had come down from my high, and only had to contend with a mild downer. I took Phoebe to the park and she went on the swings and the slide.Then we went on the grass and I encouraged her to walk around. She managed a few steps and then fell safely on to the ground and got muddy knees on her trousers for the first time. I haven't seen her too much this week and it was great to get some time together, even with a mild martini hangover.
There's a part of me that would like to have a strong lunchtime martini every day for the rest of my life, though I suspect my life not be all that long if I did that. But life is but a dream, why not make it one with a super-focused middle and blurry edges?
