Today is Christmas Eve and it feels appropriate to note the occasion. It’s nearing five and I’m working on the festively red couch, which will be as red and festive after the seasonal mayhem has subsided. Over the last 48 hours I have oystered a socialising trail across London – Camden Town, Sloane Square, East Finchley, ending (via the Tooley St. exit at London Bridge) here in Deptford. I’ll be spending Christmas here with four musicians – three string players and a pianist. My friend’s flat looks over Deptford High Street, which is all lit up in cheery lights. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree…” and other seasonal tunes float up from the street-stalls selling last-minute Christmas tack – polyester stockings, tinsel, flashing Santas. There’s an Iceland below us. At this moment, someone may well be buying a last box of mince pies or a forgotten packet of brussel sprouts. Our merry band hasn’t yet done any Christmas food shopping, but here are some thoughts from that strange escarpment of pre-Christmas socialising, moving, eating and waiting:
two glasses of wine,
a dozen cream crackers, plain
salmon blini’s, bruschetta,
two coffees, a salmon sandwich,
mussels in Szechuan black bean sauce
and prawns stir fried with bamboo shoots and Chinese mushrooms
couscous with broccoli,
green tea, a secondary weed-smoke hangover
I did yoga, fifteen minutes of Qi Gong, tried some writing.
My friend locked his keys in the flat.
Arrival text: Eve, 23rd Dec.
In Deptford, settling in…
T locked keys in flat,
so we got to know the
George from Iceland,
guys at the £1 store downstairs,
the waitresses at the local Chinese,
Matt with the ladder from the art studio.
Two SAffas on the loose!