The first of this week's guests at the Walthamstow Ritz was. Phil. He certainly knows how to shop. We did a lot of that. But first off, Monday morning, the man arrived from Allaround to clean our carpets and what a different colour they do look after the crap has been surgically removed from them. Well worth it to have someone come round to do that once a year.
Then into town and Oxford Street. We did a good lunch at All Bar One in Upper Regents Street followed by shopping. I got a cap at Top Man, a shirt and shorts from Gap, CDs Strictly Ballroom, Enigma and Tom Lehrer from HMV and various bits and bobs from the Body Shop. Phil made some purchases and hemmed and hawed over others. Back home and food at Trattoria La Ruga in Walthamstow Village. At last, somewhere local that I can feel really happy about taking people there to eat. Fabby meal.
Tuesday and to the other end of Oxford Street. Phil chose some earplugs for me from
Boots. He swears by them and I'm sure they'll be useful when Ross and I go on holiday.
Selfridges was fun but empty. So much so that we were picked on by a member of staff
wanting to tie us in to returning to the sale on Sunday. We explained why we wouldn't
be there and why Saturday was out of the question because of Pride. It was out of the
question for the sales assistant too. For much the same reason.
Up the road and Phil
picked up a jacket from Gap and was well chuffed. I sort of saw things but didn't buy any.
Further up the road and lunch at the gay pub - the King's Arms - followed by a return
visit to HMV where Phil acquired his complete 40 years of Eurovision Song Contest winners.
We heard them through that night. Some of them are almost memorable.
Then Liberty's where the sales staff where of a hitherto undrempt for standard of exquisiteness. I managed some camp writing paper and some cinnamon and apple scented draw liners and Phil bought some pretty boxes for storing CDs. We'd only dropped into there to pass an odd minute and stayed too long meaning we were late meeting up with Ross. Off to see Wes Craven's Scream. Very fun movie playing almost too knowingly with cinema conventions. But enough moments to make you jump out of your skin to make it worth while. Home and food. I did the salmon with new potatoes and a salad than included sorrel from the garden.
Wimbledon has been cracking on apace. Luckily, whilst Phil was with
us he actually likes to watch tennis, so we ogled together. Tim
Henman stayed with us for most of the week which was pleasant on the eye. Another
of the great lust buckets was, in fact, last year's champion.
Richard Krajicek, who, as Phil pointed out, looks
a little like Lucas Ridgeston - though how Phil would know
is up for the guessing. He also mentioned out that young Richard has buttocks like two
boiled eggs in a handkerchief - a sentiment with which we can all agree whilst noting
young Phil's command of the apt simile. We may have to review our opinion of young
Phillipe in the light of this new evidence.
My man of the tournament, nationalist sentiment apart, was Nicolas Kiefer but, since he's young, German and virtually unknown, there are no images of him to be found anywhere even though he reached the Quarter Finals. Maybe next year.
So Wednesday am and the start of the Harvey Nicks sale. Well, I thought there was going to be mayhem but no. Maybe everyone was waiting for Horrids and Selfridges. Or maybe there isn't quite the consumer boom that everyone is talking about. Still, we shopped and the staff there were exquisite too. One happy chappy gave us the glad eye and asked if "you boys are OK". We told him we were. However, the only things I picked up were a few Calvin Klein items and a fabulous dark green Mulberry shirt. Phil bought two items including some Paul Smith tracksuit bottoms and spent nearly three quarters of what I spent. Still it was all quality stuff.
Then, it was time for Phil to travel home. I escorted him to the station and then backtracked to Liberty's for some soaps and Gap for the things I'd seen the day before but hadn't bought. It seemed to be a theme of the week but I got into conversation with another member of sales staff about Pride. However, that's the last of my purchases, I hope. I think that that spurt of activity has put an end to my clothes buying frenzy for this year.
Thursday and we pick up the car and do a lot of household things during the day. Like there's a mega Tesco's shop to be accomplished and we go to Homebase for paint for the bathroom and three different fuschias for the back garden. I also pick up a small coriander. We'll see how that does in our climes. Evening brings a trip out to the Leisure Centre at Picket's Lock and Batman and Robin. What to say? Some great butt shots at the beginning. Every major scene looks like the back room of an 80s Los Angeles gay disco. Chris O'Donnell is cute. But really it is a mess of a film and Joel Schumacher should not be trusted with the next one if there is a next one.
Friday there's a lot of flying around and doing things round the house. Ross, slightly sniffly with a cold, goes off to work at Pizza Hut. Second guest of the week arrives direct from Zurich, Switzerland, where he's doing a bit of research at the mo. Yes, it's Cambridge Chris, jetting in for Pride. We eat out at Trattoria La Ruga and I have another fabby meal. This is most pleasant and prevents me from smearing Chris's buttocks with whipped cream and really spending the evening eating out. I know I have eulogised about Chris's buttock's before but I'll say it again "Phwarr". Two ripe globes of passion that you could bounce pennies off. Frankly, Richard Krajicek, eat your heart out.
And tomorrow the magic of Pride is upon us once more.
