cock o'clock

Another blog entry written on a train. Part of a general aim to try to render the amount of time I spend on trains less pointless, such as my tendency to bring onto the train more books and journal articles than I could read in a week, have hours of podcasts ready etc.
On arriving back from Bert’s on Friday my feeble attempt to do a bit of work didn’t bear fruit, and it was Friday afternoon anyway – so that was another two days PhD out the window. Still got to see Bert and Tania, and stand next to SuperHans on a platform so what more do you want?
Friday night we had invited people round the boat for cocktails. I had got enthusiastic about the idea of cocktails since we’d been to Severn Shed where they have very nice ones made by waiters who know what they’re doing. One of the ones I liked best was a mojito, as a result of which I’d bought a tub of growing mint. All I needed was… the other ingredients, which I discovered at six pm on Friday were rum, soda water, crushed ice and sugar. Undeterred I went and found these, and then with Tan, Helen, Simon, Claire and two of Tan’s friends round I proceeded to make perhaps the crappiest mojito cocktails anyone had ever tasted. Oh, and Eddie and his lady friend Ilza or something, and Flo and Vero turned up too. None of them liked my cocktails either.
Went to the Fleece for Tan’s birthday where there was a gobby girl punk band thing showing everyone just how much attitude they had, followed by Pete’s cousin’s band who did a song especially written for Tan called “Cock O’Clock” on account of his dubious expository habits after a certain hour. By this time, even people who hadn’t been round the boat and had my mojitos were coming up to me and saying “so I hear you made shit mojitos” which was a bit much. Then there was another band who most people didn’t like. Was a laugh, like, haven’t been to the Fleece for ages, possibly ever.
Saturday, me and Annie loafed about a bit, she got quite an impressive amount of work done on her assignment, I got none done because instead I kept finding other things to do like put more pictures on flickr and organise the pictures, and read my economist, and go to the gym, and have a bath, and go for a walk etc. etc. In the evening was Sophie’s birthday at the Lanes which are a kind of mini multiplex of 1950’s-themed Americana entertainment complex thing in the centre of town where I used to go to the job centre and be devalidated. Sophie was pressing the fancy dress theme, and though I don’t like fancy dress I thought I should make an effort and so put a quiff in and a thin tie on. Looked like a sort of old-fashioned criminal really, one who’d slice you up with a flick-knife soon as look at you. Well, alright then, I looked like Pudsy. We played bowling and had burgers, and table football, and went on one of those arcade machines in a table where I did best out of everyone. Imagine the genius who first thought of the idea of combining a table and an arcade machine: genius! Simon and Claire and Anne refused to even contemplate going in the karaoke room (I could have stood it for a bit) so we went to Renatos and then back to the boat for nice margaritas (nice as Simon had brought round a mixer thingy).
Sunday, we went to go to Westonbirt but they had put the prices up to 7 quid an adult – to see some trees – so instead we drove a bit into the countryside around and abouts and found a footpath or two across some fields where I stooped to pick a buttercup. Why people leave buttocks lying around I’ve no idea. Back home I actually managed to get a teensy bit of work done, then watched a great programme about cloud appreciation. I now know my cumulostratus from my cirronimbus, or something.
Monday, I did actually get some work done though again not as much as goody two shoes Anne. Also my main form of distraction/procrastination was going with Claire and Simon to the open studios at Spike Island where lots of artists glue newspaper fragments to a tree trunk or make a sock out of resin and balance it on a duvet, or do a painting of a turd and write ‘loyalty is overrated’ underneath it, and suchlike. Actually, there was some quite good stuff there including some Donnie Darko rabbit-type half-human-half-animal sculptures. There was also some awful shite. Spoke to my old pal Gwyn in the evening (or was that Sunday), who is generally a great fellow and learned and multi-layered sort of individual.
Today that is Tuesday I had a couple of cups of tea with LW at Cardiff who is good to talk to as she did her PhD on similar things to me a few years ago and so should know a thing or two. Felt a bit dim trying to explain my methods which are slippery and unfounded and altogether unconvincing, but was reassured when she was describing the ideas behind her paper she’s writing at the moment which sounded similarly unclear and muddled – she said so herself. Maybe no one anywhere in the whole world really knows what they’re talking about? This is a very strong feeling I have. We're all dumb as.