So, here’s what I got up to in the last week…
Last Saturday I moved out of the old flat (now Kate’s flat) and into the new, only without all my stuff, which was still with Kate. After a final meal with Kate I ambled along to the BugPowder London pub meet at about 10.00pm to find the newly shorn-of-dreads Mark Stafford and his mate Andy the last remaining drinkers. Andy was keen to go onto a gig but got less keen and wound up going home. I was in the mood to drink more and Mark was as eager as ever to join me, especially since it was on my dollar, as it were, so off we went in search of a late-night venue that would let us in. We wound up going to that poncy looking bar on New Oxford St under Centre Point where we drank and people-watched until it closed at 2.30am. Having texted a load of mates who might know about illegal drinking dens, and failing to elicit a response, we marched off into Soho to find more beer. Interestingly, our guides to more beer turned out to be the homeless who were more than eager to help even when we’d run out of small change. A building on Great Windmill Street was mentioned and we drunkenly tried to find it, stopping off in China Town when the smell of good food distracted us, only to find that China Town was closed for the night.
Eventually a couple of very animated homeless guys showed us on the A-Z where Great Windmill Street was and we arrived there to discover there were 13 flats at the designated number, none of which were labelled “Illegal Drinking Den”, so we gave up and looked for food, it now being around 3.30am. Wandering into Leicester Square we spotted a little Pizza place. I ordered a couple of slices and noticed they had beer in the fridge, so I got a couple of bottles. We sat on the pavement eating out pizza and drinking our beer when a bunch of, it turned out, Portuguese tourists took photos of us. Then Mark went for his bus and I wandered over the river to home, arriving back around 5.30am.
So, a good night really.
Sunday was spent in bed.
Monday, and the first walk to work. It’s not the nicest of walks, but it’s not bad and the walk over London Bridge can be quite spectacular if it’s not too overcast. I could take the route along the riverbank but it would add five minutes and all this week I tend to have left the flat just in time to get to work at bang on 8.00am so I haven’t dared deviate yet, but it’s still nicer to walk than to struggle on the Central line.
Tuesday was the day of the van. I left work at midday and met Matt outside work. He was moving that day too and we decided to help each other, plus he’d got the van for free from his work. First we went to my old flat to collect the stuff, which we did by 4.00pm with the help of Helen’s brother Rob. Then we drove to the new flat and carried it all in by 6.00. At this point my back started twitching. At Matt’s flat we stopped for teat and chocolate and I had to lie down. My back was fucked. Now, I carry books for a living. When closing down the CXR branch earlier in the year I lugged a many times this much weight every day. But this time I couldn’t do it. The words “I’m getting old” ran through my mind. It turned out just to be bruised muscles down either side of my spine rather than anything serious and it went down in a couple of days, but it was rather worrying to say the least. On getting Matt’s stuff into his new flat we went for a well deserved pint. On arriving home I went to sleep, knackered.
Woke up Wednesday morning feeling like shit, so I phoned in and said I would be turning up for the late shift. Then went back to sleep and woke up at 4.00pm. Oops.
Yadda, yadda, set up the computer, answered some email, didn’t touch the boxes of books.
Thursday, and we find ourselves going to the annual Geocentre river cruise. Geocentre are a publisher who produce a load of maps and guides that don’t quite sell as well as the leading brands but sell okay. Once a year they hire a riverboat, fill it with booze and food, and invite booksellers along to consume said booze and food, which we do. It’s something of a highlight on the liggers calendar, in that there are no checks on the door (so you can bring your mates) and they don’t try and sell you anything. If you’d walked on by mistake you’d be at a loss as to who was paying for all this.
So we drank, we ate, we drank some more, we watched London pass by, we drank, and we danced like drunken booksellers and their mates. It was good.
The next day I went to work drunk. At least I must have been drunk because I was in a really good mood and I should have been hung over to buggery. It was an oddly pleasing experience. Shelving books was a doddle and answering the phone was fun. I must do it again sometime.
Then, in the evening, it was off to Francis’ leaving do in Hampstead. Francis was, until last week, the manager of the branch there and, being quite a character, his send off was not one to miss. While my hangover was not quite being kept in check by the pints I was pouring into it, it was a good time.
So, to today. I was supposed to go to Sevenoaks for the Manga exhibition but didn’t wake up until the afternoon. See, I am getting old. So I unpacked everything instead. I have many less books than I thought, having gotten rid of all the ones I’d either read or was never going to read. However, I have many more comics than I remember. Some of them I’ll be putting back in boxes and trying not to remember again. Interestingly, my collection of self published A5 comics has grown a lot over the last year. It now fills an entire book case.
There, that’s Volume Two started nicely. I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to approach this one - perhaps I’ll just let it evolve. Yes, that’d be best.
This is the personal blog and main internet hub-thing for Pete Ashton. What you'll find here is a seemingly random collection of stuff I want to talk about and share. 
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