Down And Out In Hampstead And Harringay

Blimy, but yesterday was a barrel of…something. I’m still not sure what it was, but it tasted funny. I got rejection e-mail from Bernard Quaritch Ltd, the antiquarian bookshop. Brook Street employment agency refused to register me, on the basis that they want six months office experience, and I only have three. Bastards.

By way of a pick-me-up, I went to the first proper Gamesoc meeting of the year. A good time was had by all, and afterwards we retired to the nearest pub. It was at this point that the evening began to become “hilarious”. I should point out that, having drunk two pints only, alcohol played no part in the following events.

Having turned down a final drink (Here my troubles did begin. The lesson is, never stop drinking), I headed back to my sister’s flat, having earlier given her back the keys because I knew I’d be out late. I got back at midnight and rang the bell. Failing to get any response, I rang the bell on and off for about ten minutes. Eventually, the intercom came to life. Unfortunately, it was the bloke from the downstairs flat, complaining about the noise and demanding that I stop it and clear off (To this man I direct the following statement: “Fuck you, you motherfucking goat-fister. If the noise of a doorbell ringing in someone else’s flat is enough to annoy you, then you deserve to be annoyed. By as many people as possible”). I stopped ringing the bell. Being unable to raise my sister on the phone, I considered my options.

a) Spend eight hours in the front yard on what was rather a cold night.
b) Think of something else.

All the trains and busses had stopped, so my (b) was to get a Taxi to Harringay in the hope that Alan would let me sleep on his floor. Veritable Saint that he is, he provided me with a spare bed at 1:30 this morning. And he had to be up at some ungodly hour.

I made it into this flat again at about midday today, in sore need of a cup of coffee and a shower. With any luck, I should be in my own flat come Sunday or Monday, hopefully reducing the chances for a repeat of such hilarity.