Post-birthday bluesFebruary 15, 2009
Well, once again I intended to write searing, hyper-articulate analyses of the issues of the day (Carole Thatcher, racism, Gaza, George Galloway etc) but now I can’t be arsed. There’s no point giving my opinion 10 days after everyone else is sick of a subject.
Thursday was my birthday. I didn’t get to skive off work, but I the day was made more interesting by having a meeting at the Gherkin, which I’d never been to before. The meeting was on the 14th floor, which was pleasant, but not shockingly impressive. Fortunately, the client offered to take us up to the 40th floor, which is some kind of bar/restaurant. I spent about 10 minutes just gawping and taking photos. The view is wicked, and most important of all, I could see Alexandra Palace, hazy in the distance.
“I live there,” I said, giving the impression that I believe that I live in a palace.
In the evening, my girlfriend and I went round to my mum’s for a meal and were joined by my twin sister (and family) who was also, coincidentally, celebrating her birthday. Friday night was spent getting pissed in a gastropub in East Finchley. I was doing ok until people decided to buy me shots of Zambuca. Yesterday was spent being hungover.
My girlfriend has decided to enter both of us into a 10k run in July. In theory, this is good, although judging by my efforts so far, I’m going to have to get a lot fitter. Ridiculously, my girlfriend decided to go for a run today, and despite doing no training at all, managed to happily jog 5 kilometres. I am ruined and emasculated.
The 10k run will be for charity. I have a vague idea of which charity I will run for – basically, the same one that my mates have done previously. I was looking through the official list of charities, and I have to say, there are some ridiculous organisations out there. There’s actually, genuinely a charity called Clowns in the Sky. Now, they work for a good cause (research into childhood brain tumours) but it’s the worst name ever for a charity. If someone turned up on my doorstep, asking for money for Clowns in the Sky, I would punch them in the face.