Over the weekend

Back to the hustle and bustle of Landan life.

Came back yesterday in fact.

One feels the need to skip back in time in order to fill you all in about the things I got up to.

Over the weekend I
a) went out with K for a lovely meal at a newly opened 'Bistro de Paris'. Scrummy,
b) went to any exclusive members bar in Leicester. By exclusive I mean, of course, free guest passes sent to me in the post as a result of technical failure. By exclusive I mean, of course, a thug at the front entrance and no real visible entrance. By exclusive I mean, drinks were more expensive than most other bars in the vicinity. Exclusivity comes at a price, don't you know.
c) ate my entire body weight in Indian food and drank my body weight in orange and pomegranate juice (two separate juices you understand, though one wonders how a mash of the two might taste ever so slightly icky).

K and I had a mini-debate over the table.

Me (on the subject of films)- 'I enjoy certain films, but that doesn't make them great films.'
K - Yes it does. In fact, that's the only thing that makes them great. As long as you enjoy them, what else is there?'

I wasn't quite sure of which direction our debate might progress in, although I'm sure I'm correct on this (and every) occasion. Methinks, great films require more. Great films require a certain craft, a certain oomph, a certain something-more-than-personal-enjoyment. I'm sure somebody enjoyed 'Dirty Sanchez - the movie' though that wasn't a great film. In fact, I might add, it was perhaps categorically the worst film, alongside 'Bride and Prejudice' that I've ever had the misfortune of seeing.

Films where the ambition far exceeds the talent (in every respect) should be banned. Completely.

Anyways, so am now back in London and last night received a telephone call from Prospero inviting me to dine with him. Of course, If there's one thing I can't say no to, it's an invitation to dinner. I'd probably say yes even though I may potentially have just finished a plate of whatever. It's the idea of eating out that wins over the functionality of it, every time.

You remember Prospero don't you? 'I only sleep with friends'. Yes, I thought that may ring a bell. Sigh.

Needless to say, after a meal at Wagamamas, he and I went to a seedy little gay bar in the hope of catching a demi-god man. Do these exist? you may ask. No, they bloody don't.

Arthur! I can think of nobody else to ask, but you've got to get me into the dating circuit and immediately, before it all comes away in my hand and doomsday is upon us. I have a list of places I want to visit in London and it's your job to tick the list off as quickly as possible. This dating scene and my search for a fuck buddy is proving futile. Futile!

Breathe. Breathe.