So the big change that's happened has been that I decided some months ago to rent my office out and work from a mixture of home, clients' offices and also from a desk in an office shared with some journalist friends. Now really and truly, this is a very good thing - the office was an expensive luxury, and it is now a 'profit centre', and I had always planned to do it at precisely this age. On paper I'm happy about it. But there is a lingering feeling that this marks a new path that I'm not so happy about. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I can't help saying "I've given the office up". I shouldn't be thinking of it like that because it is good news, but I can't help it. It may have been the particular circumstances including the final 'tenants' in the office turning particularly nasty before they gave their (six month) notice and then having to live with that. The final straw came when they refused to return the office keys, potentially meaning all the locks in the building would need to be changed. I solved that one by suggesting that it was theft and I was just on my way to the police station. The keys were back within an hour. Yes, they were the awkward squad big time. The whole process of reletting became fraught too as my solicitors and the new tenants solicitors were beyond useless. A draft lease that took three months to create (even though one existed already because my company sublet it to me) then had substantial amendments on every single of its 45 pages. The tenants themselves were fine, and we managed to resolve every issue in a 3 hour face to face meeting...only to find it still took the solicitors another two months to put it to bed. My solicitor failed to incorporate one of the important clauses, and even on the day of completion, there was an enormous fight about whether the bank account number for their deposit should/should not be included as part of the lease. I had to tell my solicitor and their solicitor to stop being complete arses. Literally. Solicitors are the most ridiculous people in the world, they think in the most bizarre, unhelpful ways and really I can't help but feel we'd all be better off without them. Enough said, as I type this in my 'home office' which has a view across Essex in one direction and down to Canary Wharf in the other. On the up side, I find myself getting up at my normal time, doing some work before breakfast...which is making me more productive than I was before. Hurrah. Change can be difficult even if it is change for the best.
So for the record what have we been doing - musically?
Music wise we've seen:
The Eagles - absolutely fabulous...a perfect performance with all their best songs sounding great. One black mark was he stupid 'corporate' announcements telling us not to take pictures and videos. Really? What century do they live in? I don't have any pictures to show you.
Mari Wilson - do you remember Mari Wilson? Fabulous songstress with a great beehive hairdo. This was at a very small, intimate venue just of Regents Street. We went with a couple of friends and managed to embarrass ourselves by ordering enough food to feed the multitudes. Apart from that, she was absolutely brilliant. Really cool, laid back and friendly and absolutely still a fantastic voice. She signed copies of her latest CD and even agreed to a picture with me
It was exactly ten years ago that I took The Boy (he who is still at the top of an Austrian mountain!) to his first gig - Turin Brakes at Somerset House. The evening was fabulous, and I was so delighted when some years later Auntie Gwen invited us up to the frozen north to see them, and her beautiful daughter's wonderful boyfriend went behind stage to get us their autographs. On the anniversary, The Cat's Mother and I went to see Bastille, a popular contemporary beat combo....they were very good, and inspite of The Cats Mother being as nearly crippled as crippled can be by her back, we bopped along. Better still was the support band Kyla La Grange who sang wonderfully, and danced in a see through plastic mac. We bought the album
Some years ago I bought Robbie Williams tickets, and then gave them away because the concert was on the same night as Parents Evening. I got a bottle of whisky in return. This time I bought Robbie tickets so far in advance and then forgot about them and signed up for a night cycle ride. A sponsored night cycle ride. When I realised my mistake, I was all ready to give the tickets away, but then realised the concert finished at 10.30, the ride started at midnight. I could do both. So Robbie did a bit of swinging both ways in his 'saucy seaside postcard' sort of way, entertained us immensely for a couple hours, leaving us feeling we'd had a great evening, and both thinking it was money more than well spent. We then parted company, with The Cat's Mother heading back to Epping Forest and me heading to Tower Bridge. From there, me and three thousand of my closest friends cycled the 110km to Brighton, leaving at half-past midnight and arriving at 6.00am. But that's a whole other story I'll write another time....
