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Saturday, October 09, 2004

Hanging Around 

Everytime I think about last night, my head hurts.

It started off as a very nice, relaxing evening. I'd been so engrossed in the excellent book I was reading that it wasn't until I'd finished the very last page and brought my mind back to reality that I heard it. Coming from somewhere upstairs I could hear the feint sounds of a CD playing. I knew that it couldn't be Tim back already and so decided to venture upstairs to see what was going on.

No sooner had I reached the top step to the ASC that a figure, dressed in what could only be described as straight from an Ann Summers window display, went flying past me down the stairs, mumbling something along the lines of 'it's not what it seems like'. I could still hear noises coming from behind the ASC door and faced with the dilemma of whether to try to find out who the woman was or whether to see what all the racket in the ASC was about (the music no longer sounding like a CD) I decided I'd better see what was behind the door. Better that than risking having to explain to Tim that 'it's not what it seems like' should he come back early and catch me chasing a scantily clad woman around his house.

Well there he was guitar in hand, strumming away completely oblivious to my presence. A quick 'what on earth do you think you're doing' cough soon got his attention though and after he got over the initial shock and puzzlement he introduced himself as the infamous 'Backroads' (strange name for an aspiring rock star but there you go). He did try to convince me that him and the woman who nearly knocked me right back down the stairs again, who I now know to be 'petite anglaise' (an equally strange name for an aspiring rockstar's roadie) had actually been using the ASC as a secret love nest while Tim was away. I didn't believe a word of it of course - still wearing sunglasses, buttoned up parka and a guitar strapped round his neck made it all seem a bit unlikely.

On Petite Anglaise's return we introduced ourselves and all decided we might as well make the most of the amenities - free range of Tim's instruments, recording studio and mini-bar was an opportunity too good to miss.

My memories of the evening are a bit hazy from that point onwards. Well, when I say hazy I mean pretty much non-existent. All I've got to show for it is a chipped tooth, a few bruised knuckles, a huge lump on my head and a very vague recollection of Petite Anglaise warning me to put the cycle helmet on before showing off my skills on the trapeze.

But that can't be right. Must be my mind playing tricks on me.

Posted by Leanne



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