What a wonderful weekend!

Saturday, S had come to stay with us as he had to catch an early-morning flight on Sunday to the UK. So, it was only natural that we party till it was time for him to go to the airport. He had to buy some clothes (he had lost weight - and with it 6 inches), and we went to Planet Fashion and then to Landmark. Picked up Hobson-Jobson for 90 bucks - when they say bargain they mean it!

Then we went to Bike and Barrel. It was after 9 when we reached, and it being Friday night and all that, the place was impossibly crowded. R & P joined us there and a couple more of S's friends were supposed to join us later. We stood around half a barrel, the other half being taken up by a shaven -headed headbanger who was swaying - whether to the beat or because of how pickled he was is anyone's guess, and an Englishman (R identified him as one, what with the stiff upper lip and all that). The liquor flowed, and by the time the food arrived, we had managed to get a table. As we were tucking in, two of S's friends arrived. Unfortunately, one of them was wearing sandals, and was not allowed in. So we decided to continue the party at Tinto. But we reached there about five minutes after eleven, so that choice was out. So we went to The Right Place, where S sweet-talked the waiter into bringing us some beer. Another of S's friends joined us and we were there till about 1:30 am, getting quite sloshed in the process. The reason for all this out-of-control drinking was that S had a chauffeur-driven Safari. Since I almost never get to go out and drink as I drive, this was a perfect opportunity to get drunk. It was quite okay, though it did not beat being pleasantly drunk, which was what R was and there he stayed. I plopped into bed at about 2 am, and never even knew it when S left for the airport at 4 am.

Sunday, we woke up at about 11 am. We had a lunch appointment with a wonderful couple. It involved a long drive to a place in the midst of the wilds. But I shall leave it to W to write about it.

-M

Bloggo, ergo sum
Ergo, meo getto bloggo

Mid-life crisis time (yet) again.  After listening to about an hour of Nirmal Swaminathan (I think) bumbling his way through a call-in programme on 107.1 FM, I have decided that I shall be a radio jockey.  There is a school that teaches RJ-ing, or at least there used to be one, on TTK Road.  I've decided to first track down this school, enrol there and learn the ins and outs of RJ-ing, and then supplement, if not replace, all the rotten RJs who pollute the airwaves.  Well, at least that is what I have set out to do.  I should have done this long ago. In fact I should have done this the day I heard a female RJ called Caroline (or Elizabeth or Charlotte - this was seven years ago) say, "that was Patricka the Stryper."  Well, at least that gives me something to do over the next few days (or the rest of my life, as the case may be).

I met a girl whose father owes me money.  What do I do? The owing money bit is from far in the past - from when I was freelancing about four years ago. The father was a right bastard - I set up some webspace for him but he was an absolute idiot when it came to understanding the abcs of running a web site, and wouldn't let me troubleshoot.  In the end, I ended up just setting up the space and giving him the username and password to administer it.  Needless to say, he never paid me, and he still owes me.  His daughter walks into my office today asking for some information which we happen to have, and the dissemination of which is the primary function of our organisation.  She is smart, unlike her father.  Only when she leaves does she give me her card with her email address on it.  I look at her full name, her email address, and her residential address and it strikes me that she is the rascal's daughter.  Well, what could I do? I wished her luck and asked her to be in touch should she require any further information. Life goes on!

- M