I went to Paul’s yesterday, one of my favourite foodie places in London. It’s an French chain of bakeries, run by mostly French people, with menus in French. It’s ruiniously expensive, but I go there as often as possible to enjoy le hot chocolate, le omelette and fougasse olives.
After drinking a gallon of mint tea, I went to the gents, which had a sign on the cubicle door saying ‘Out of Order’. Of course, some wag had written ‘Quelle dommage’ underneath…
I also went to see the Smashing Pumpkins at the dome. I should really call it the o2, since I was there as a guest of said telecoms company. Billy Corgan kept the talking to a minimum, perhaps already self-conscious enough about wearing a silver skirt and high heels.
My view of ‘the pit’ indicated a tame crowd response, probably because everybody there was my age, and also find that standing loses its novelty very quickly.
I was free of that madness, as me and Saj had allocated seats on the 2nd tier. That didn’t stop a pair of jackasses from trying to steal our seats while we were buying beer. Experiments show that monkeys are able to complete tasks that involve matching one symbol to another, so are there really human beings who are unable to locate a seat after being given a row letter and seat number?
Is that difficult? Is it me? Am I coming out of an intellectual closet by suggesting that finding seat number 271 in a row of 300 is perhaps not the most difficult of tasks? I wonder how these guys even managed to dress themselves and navigate the London Underground in order to attend in the first place.
Perhaps if I’d looked closely, I’d have seen that they had their tops on backwards like they were at the barbers, and they arrived at North Greenwich station after a 5 hour journey which was conducted entirely by trial and error.