We’re in a kind of Indian Smeller, I think.
…. Oh, sorry, I got distracted. Back to my story …
Westfield did have all those things I wanted from it and I woulda eaten good even without the Pastrami & Emmenthal from ‘bucks. But w/a no-show show less than 20 hours behind me and a no-roof life scheduled to open for me 6 days down the line, I was beginning to regret my departure from the land of sheep and pudding (well, that’s what it’s called in the bible).
Oh! Speaking of the bible, Robin Ince messaged me while I was at Westfield to apologize for not seeing my plaintive DM in time to help publicize my (theoretical) performance the previous day. He invited me to come to his scientific vaudeville extravaganza that night at the Hammersmith Apollo.
Way to rub it in, Robbo. (He didn’t know. He was being sweet.)
I gratefully accepted.