Abandon all hope/money/sobriety, all ye who enter here.

I don't know whether it's the summer, the festival or the novelty of living above a brothel, but I feel like I haven't stopped going out for bloody ages. And this isn't blowing my own trumpet. More of a cry for help. Or a night off.

On Thursday Cedric, a friend of Vanessa's (he used to go out to a bar she worked at in Brussels - tenuous connection #1), invited Jeff and I down to his swanky Stockbridge flat for a meal. We had a swift pint in Hector's beforehand and I have to admit, it's a little weird to have to organise to go for a drink with Jeff or Josh; for absolutely ages, we've lived in the same flat/cave and having to organise this kind of thing, as opposed to just shouting "Anyone fancy a pint?" is a little odd.

Anyway, the meal was rather good. A load of Cedric's workmates were there, plus a couple of people from our housewarming.

"So how do you guys know Cedric?"
"From your party. Don't you remember?
"Um."

Tenuous connection #2.

On Friday Dave and I had a couple (Christ; more like a skinful) with Andy, Barbara and assorted Bouteloup friends and family to say goodbye before they head off on their pan-African travels. We had the sense to eat before going out but not the sense to call it a night early enough, and I was suffering for my art the next day as I hauled myself onto the train to Glasgow. Fortunately, the practice went pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself.

Mart was noodling away on his guitar at one point, and I played along for a while until I got the hang of what he was doing. Doug came in with a gentle drumbeat and we gradually built up to a fairly rocking, surprisingly improvised tune that lasted for seven or eight minutes. Questions as to whether a seven minute prog rock epic belong in a TM set aside, I think it's the first time we've actually played something that really did sound like Mogwai.

After meeting up with (and subsequently losing to common sense) Davis and the Captain, and after finally eating something far too late to salvage any degree of decorum, Doug and I took a taxi to the west end to meet up with Dave and Claire, a couple of friends of Kate's who Doug has apparently been keeping in touch with since a certain party almost two years ago.

Tenuous connection #3. It was one of those kind of weeks...