A quiet weekend

Got the coach "down south" on Friday. I'd write about where I actually went but it's easier just to say "a quaint little village near London" than the actual name of the place because no-one's ever heard of it anyway. Anyway, books about Mormons and cults courtesy of Tal kept me occupied on the journey down there and when I finally arrived at about 4pm Friday afternoon, all the anxieties that had been with me in Manchester were for some reason no longer present. Friday night wasn't very exciting, with just a hot meal and long conversation that lasted well into the night. I say it wasn't very exciting but that doesn't mean it wasn't enjoyable because it was, immensely so.

Anyway, I spent Saturday and Sunday afternoons in endless antiques emporiums picking out furniture for my imaginary future home (Roman style velvet recliners, gold-framed mirrors, mahogany writing desks and chandeliers aplenty), curling up on the leather couch in Horatio's bookshop, the best bookshop in the country (at £1.50 a book, I bought a few too many, including: The Comforts of Madness by Paul Sayer, Last Night at Chateau Marmont by Lauren Weisberger, The Tenth Circle by Jodie Picoult, The Omen by David Seltzer, The Holy Blood and The Holy Grail by millions of authors, The Messianic Legacy by the same authors, The Dead Sea Scrolls Deception, same again, The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown, Empress Orchid by Anchee Min and a NIV study bible which is wonderful). We also had tea and scones with jam and cream in old-fashioned tearooms, pints in old man's pubs and endless cups of coffee with Kate, who is the most wonderful Christian lady ever.

On Sunday night I went to a party at the local pub, Tom's "Dinosaur Disco", which is a compilation of Tamla Motown and Northern Soul (the stuff I grew up with) and danced all night with some of the most weird and wonderful people ever. My favourite by far was a 60 odd year old woman in skin-tight black jeans, skyscraper heels, a leopard print top with her white hair in a beehive and tattoos all the way down her arms. She gyrated against her friends as if she was the 18 year old Nancy Spungen and she was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I got taught "the moves" by people 20 years my senior and it was one of the best nights I've had in ages, can't remember the last time I danced that much.