Where there's a Willesden there's a way

Thursday, September 15, 2005

It's true, look how they shine for you

NB- This happened some time ago. Like I say, we're playing catch-up.
It's early in the morning, and I'm throwing stones into the sea trying to work out how I ended up in Brighton with a pounding head, chipped teeth and very muddy clothes. This is going to take some work.

Go back. Try and remember.

I'm trying to sleep in a haystack. The straw's surprisingly rough, and there seems to be something crawling up my leg. I shift position, but that doesn't seem to help. My face feels oddly creased, and I notice a chip in my tooth that wasn't there before.

Not far enough. Keep going back.

"Looks like I lost" she giggled, after she drained the dregs of the whisky, sat back in her chair and fell flat on the ground. I'm staring into the fire as the muddy garden seems to spin uncontrollably. She wasn't this drunk when I started talking to her, but that was before one of us suggested a whisky drinking competition.
"I'm not supposed to drink whisky", she slurs. "My husband says I can't handle it."
Husband. I say. You're married. There's a very scary looking man with a piercing looking straight at me.

Further back. Don't be scared.

I'm in a room with the remains of a buffet and some people. I've got a glass of wine in my hand and I'm talking to Angela and some of her friends.

Angela. That's good.

Don't interrupt. I'm talking to her when her sleazy flatmate comes up to me. Earlier he'd tried to put food in my mouth, and I hate that. I'm cutting some cheese when I hear him say.
I'll shag anything.
There's a hand on my back. I move away. My grip on the knife is tightening.
Excuse me, I say. I'm cutting some cheese.
I skewer a bit of cheddar and bite it off the knife. Ah, the teeth. He's still there, and I glare at him as I take the knife and drive it into the block of cheese. There's a thud as it hits the plate below. He backs away.
Angela leads me away. Let me show you where we'll be camping. The room seems to have gone quiet.

You seemed aggressive. But he is a sleazy f***, I'll give you that.

I'm in the kitchen, and I haven't been there long. There's a large haze of smoke, and a voice asks me if I want some.
It's been a while, but OK.

Keep going.

The taxi driver isn't looking as amused as I am that no-one seems to have heard of the place. He's looking at me suspiciously, trying to work out if there's a rave on his patch. I'm keeping my eye on the road, trying to find a white house with solar panels. Except it's very dark by the time I arrive.

"People round here aren't that friendly to outsiders." He tells me. Except when the outsider's just given them a 14 quid fare.

I'd agreed to go to the party even before I knew where it was. Because strange stuff happens around Angela. As I sat on Brighton beach, stiching together my fractured memories, I receive a text from her telling me I was the life and soul of the party. But if you can remember something like that, you really weren't there.

After an endless journey, I got home to find Meg and Mog had gone. And they'd taken everything. It's going to be a long couple of weeks.
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