Thanks for your update from Antibes; things certainly sound groovy down there, and I suppose it was only a matter of time before you became fly-by-night buttock graffiti artists, so no surprise there. As for here, the temperature briefly dropped below 15 degrees at the weekend, so the streets were deserted and people started stockpiling canned food and weapons in anticipation of the coming apocalypse, but otherwise all is well.
I've done my medical and psych exams for driving (the latter mainly consisted of drawing evenly-spaced lines on a piece of paper), so am cleared to start an intensive theory night course on Thursday which will deprive me of all human contact (and dinner) five nights a week until I'm a walking theory machine. Then maybe they'll let me get in a car.
We've started to have people over to the flat for food and 'appy laughter - this Friday we entertain a friend of Gaby's who is terrified of cats, which should be interesting. And on Saturday we checked out BrewDog's São Paulo outpost, featuring fashionably distressed brewing equipment and pints of stuff called JACK HAMMER and EVIL TWIN. I rather enjoyed it, although the much-touted fish and chips just weren't the same as in Blighty.
Otherwise we continue to prep for our US odyssey; I've made a mean playlist (a sample of which can be found here: https://play.spotify.com/user/freddypowys/playlist/2aB8wtsKfCsh5IfXsGEakO), Eric has recommended I try turtle soup and alligator po'boys in New Orleans, Jack has chipped in with some live music tips, we're signed up to go shooting in Alabama on the day before the wedding, that kind of thing. Gaby wants to rent a convertible (another long-standing ambition of hers), but options are thin on the ground and we probably won't survive without some kind of air con anyway.
My phrase of the week is from the Wilson Simonal song of the same name (https://www.youtube.com/
Looking forward to chatting at some point tomorrow,
Yours sincerely,
Fredders
No comments:
Post a Comment