I have changed the site web address! You will automatically be redirected to www.guybrighton.com in 3 seconds. If your browser doesn't automatically load, click HERE. Guy Brighton's Wishful Thinking: WED 17th MAR: VON CURRY



The Lady joins me and her cousin at Von. I was a little unaware at how St Patrick's Day fever sweeps the younger, fratty crowd and not wanting to pay the cover at the Irish Bar Swifts has led me to one of my favourite bars - thankfully. The Lady hasn't seen her cousin for a while and he's good humored enough to bring The Lady into good mood. She suggests food - I suggest curry. The cousin agrees. One more pint of black gold for the road. The Lady tells me on the way back from the bar that I shouldn't spend my money like this : but I am saved: the barman bought me a drink or two. Well done, Von.

The curry house adds to the harmony of the evening: crappy, tacky decor and badly suited waiters reminds me of home - actually a night in Camden when I worked at Tony Stone Images on Bayham Street - when Jason, Diz and a whole gang of us went for a curry after the pub. I am amazed at how thoughts trickle back sometimes.

The toilets are appalling - so right on theme there. Mainly due to the square headed, square bodied 40-something jock who staggers out of it reeling from side to side as if he's on a boat. He pulls down a coat stand as the green Mardi-Gra beads around his neck snags on a hook. When I return to our table I catch a look at his table. He sits there swaying back and forward trying to stretch his eyes open to focus on the menu. His girlfriend wears beads too but these are not as obvious as the green flashing shamrocks dangling from her lobes. Her son sits opposite: an NYU guy probably. Weedy but clever; sat in glasses. Squareman probably thinks he's a homo. Homo probably resents the fact Squareman touches his mother's skin. I pity Homo's girlfriend. She's different: dark as if she's Jewish or Italian and sober. The pissheads must have come into town for the Parade and Flashing-Shamrocks must have pleaded with Squareman that they atleast have dinner with her son. The poor son has consequently dragged out his new girlfriend. Bad move. She looks uncomfortable but I wish she'd sit back and enjoy the ride like I am: Squareman is now gripping the sides of the table as he looks down at the floor beside them at the Popadoms and accompaniments lying on the floor. He shrugs his shoulders, lifts his head and knocks the plate rice from the hand of the recently arrived waiter. The waiter makes no expression as if he's seen this 100 times before. Maybe, he's been trained in Camden?

At home the Lady and I were closer. We watched the great Pieces of April from her bead. She enjoyed it so much we stayed up and talked about the film. We tried to talk about us, but it was awkward and difficult. Tomorrow, maybe.

March 17, 2004 in Diary | Permalink


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