So, I turned 19. Hurrah. It's not a milestone exactly, but it does mean that I've only one more year where I can get away with things on the basis of being a teenager. My birthday was (as I'm sure many other people's birthdays are) spent in a state of intoxication, with my beautiful girlfriend and a couple of good friends. We drank slightly too much, had some naughtiness, and woke up feeling rougher than a badger's bumhole. And then the Lady and I decided not to get drunk any more. Wise move, methinks...
But my birthday wasn't all drunken mischief. Oh no, there were was quite a lot of cake. Blondies, cupcakes (chocolate ones and coffee ones, both seriously omnomnom), and cookies, all baked lovingly by the most beautiful, amazing girl ever. I'm one lucky guy! I am also now the proud owner of a pair of Kermit pants, a lovely varsity jacket, an uber-useful cookbook, and (perhaps win-est of all) a Star Wars duvet set. Yep. Star Wars. It's lucky it was a present from my girlfriend, because it pretty much guarantees I'd die alone if it wasn't for her...
Post birthday I returned to work, to do two people's jobs, because All Saints is fair like that. So I pulled a sickie on Friday, and instead taught myself some Italian (parlo poco italiano).
I then went to V Festival with the Lady. I love her. I do not love V. The audience is composed of equal parts 14-year-olds whose parents won't let them go anywhere else, drunken chavs all attempting to fight/shag everything that moves, and mid-life crisis types clinging to their last shred of youth and impetuousness. Florence was good, as per usual, and Editors were entertaining (if ugly as fuck). Ellie Goulding put on a good set, although the audience (mostly drunken 14-year-old chavs) provided an oddly worrying atmosphere. I constantly felt like I was about to be punched/vomited on/yelled at for looking at someone funny. But it was lovely to spend the day with my darling girlfriend, as it always is.
This weekend's Reading Festival should hopefully be a different kettle of (sustainably sourced Freedom Food) fish. Yes, there are drunken morons. Yes, there are angry fuckers. Yes, there are fires. But it's Reading. It's camping (win) with friends (win) and the Lady (win) in a field (win, though I'm not sure why) watching awesome bands (win). That adds up to quite a bit of win, for those of you who didn't notice. Plus this year promises to be the most list-tickingly, notebook-carryingly, pie chart-analysingly organised Reading ever, as the Lady and I have already planned the food we'll be taking, which means we'll be able to live for four days on a budget that'd only last one day at festival prices. I bloody love her.
In other news, I've been bumming (not literally, although I'm sure they'd be up for it) the Mystery Jets recently. More specifically, I've been bumming their new album "Serotonin". It's awesome. While "Twenty One" was good (and I mean gooood), their latest ever just seems to be better constructed. The songs flow perfectly into one another, and the band's unique "80's in the 60's" sound is as refreshing as ever. Buy it, buy it now.
Finally, I'm wetting my (hypothetical) pants in anticipation of the holiday to Rome that the Lady and I will be going on in just over a week! Before we know it, we'll be knee deep in wine, gelato, spaghetti, the Pope, and basically anything else Italian. Except Il Divo. They're shit. But we're going to see the Colosseum! And the Trevi Fountain! And the Spanish Steps! And lots of other stuff! Aaah!
Here's a sexually charged, yet oddly beautiful Mystery Jets track, "Melt". Enjoy.
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