Night out. That’s right: we’re out again. Call social services why don’t you? [Note: please don’t call social services – not because I’m scared Woodrow would be taken into care but because I don’t want to waste the valuable time of those people who work for the social services, allowing them time to hunt real scum.]
At times I think my partner is pointing out something dull. eg she says that the last time she was here, watching a band, there was water dripping from the pipes running along a wall. Is describing the historical condensation of a room acceptable conversation?
Is it OK to point in a style that suggests you’re pointing at something interesting – and be pointing at the set list to the concert you’re at?
These are things I think. I also wonder if Albert Hammond Junior’s band are asked to not drink around him – as I know he is a not-drinking-person-who-used-to-drink-a-lot. I also wonder if he has several identical outfits as he always looks the same on stage.
OK I don’t wonder that too much. That would be s-aaaaaaaaad. I wonder how many of the outfits he has – because he must definitely have more than one. Definitely.
Am I really wondering better things? Do I deserve to feel superior because I keep my thoughts to myself? In my mind – yes, yes I do. I am self-aware enough to acknowledge that I’m an arsehole.
Later I point out the arm of a girl, she is stood at the very front and the arm is annoying me. It’s all big and long and white. It really is bigger and longer than a normal arm. It’s like an oar from a rowing boat.
It turns out my partner hasn’t noticed. At the end of the next song she tells me that now it is annoying her too. I feel happy that we have more than the baby to talk about.