It’s Wednesday now. Not a traditional time to start celebrating the weekend but since I am up off the M5 again tomorrow after work (and since I am leaving at 3pm tomorrow it hardly even counts as a full day) I am going to put my party hat* on right about now. My birthday plans have changed so many times this year I’ve almost lost count but I’m so excited about this weekend that I don’t really mind now.
I wanted to go on holiday, but people had plans or exams and it wasn’t feasible. I asked Andrew to plan it, but it turns out I actually have zero money, so that awesome idea was out. (which is a real shame.) Then I was going to ask people down here, but after the stress of planning it last year I decided to gate crash a friends birthday party instead, which is on Saturday.
With a bit of neat planning on our part Issue two of Télégramme launches on Sunday, i.e. my birthday (have I mentioned this enough yet?) and I’m really hoping I’m not too hungover to tell you all about it, ha. But if I am then just assume that “fnarghhh…” all over my twitter means that it’s ready, okay? I’ll do my best to be coherent, but given the inevitable amount of rum I will consume on Saturday I can’t make any promises.
As it is I’ll be wearing this:
and seeing him, all of which makes me happier than I should possibly admit. So come the fuck on, Thursday. I can’t wait to get there.
*I do not actually have a party hat. I do have a pretty nice trilby tho, so I might wear that.