I hadn’t planned to stay, but various friends emerged and beers were bought and visits to the smoke-in wardrobe led to sundry introductions and inevitable peril.
I was happily chatting to Shane from Brisbane, whom I’d met an hour or so ago – he was a headhunter for mining companies or something – when a group of four elegantly barge into the space, one queen in particular catching my eye. He had an imperious air and a hairdo that was an unsettling – a possibly non-ironic– toned-down Flock of Seagulls tiered bowl-job. In his twenties, you know.
He turned out to be such a cunt I fully expected a Linda Blair’s face to appear on the back of his head every time he flicked his gaze away. He had two friends rapt in laughter and one aplogising to me on his behalf.
My last words to him were “see you soon” and I believe he said “can’t wait”. I caught a cab home.
Sorry I’ve ignored this blog by the way.
More to follow shortly.
I lost my camera - it's hampering.
Here’s an old shot of a bloke I haven’t seen in years who was always at the Oxford… no more.
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