Ok, so after the completion of my dissertation, the exams were the next big step in the final few weeks of my being a student, and on the 18th of May, I finished them completely. Luckily enough, this coincided with the Boy’s band playing a gig with a couple of other bands and their mates in Kingston that evening, which was a bit of an “event”. After the exam I chucked my bag, raced off to Waterloo to meet the Boy, and we headed to Kingston to the venue, picking up a few others who we bumped in to travelling there at the same time. I can’t remember the name of where Bird Calls were playing, otherwise I would put it down here, I just remember that it was a pub with an upstairs room where they played. Bird Calls were the penultimate band, which meant we got to chill out with people, and got to catch Tortura, one of the other bands playing, who I’d heard a lot about. Anyone who knows of them will probably be aware by now that they’ve broken up, which sucks because they had a lot of potential (in my opinion). Altogether they were really good. Bird Calls were on form as always, but after their set we all drifted downstairs and I missed Woolf unfortunately. After all that, we ended up deciding to stay in Kingston. I was supposed to be going to Kapow Comic Con the next day, so the Boy and I decided to stay, but get up early. You can probably tell at this point it was not going to happen. Kingston house times with friends was nice, we argued about feminism and vegans and tattoos and killing spiders, the Boy lost his shirt when the Van Pelt was put on, and we all sang along to Fleetwood Mack. Cause we’re cool. Bed time was around 4am, and the Boy and I and the assorted Bird Calls bedded down on the living room floor and set a variety of alarms for the morning.
Although the alarms were actually successful, a combination of lethargy, good food, and miscommunication on when I was supposed to meet people on the saturday morning resulted in us staying in Kingston ’till at least midday, when we realised that because we had refused all offers of breakfast, there wouldn’t be enough food for us, even though by this point we had changed our minds. At some point, Angel and Burritos were mentioned, and it was pretty much that which dictated the rest of our day. I wasn’t THAT hungover. I’ll say that now, the hangover kicked in much later. At that point I was just hungry and tired and the idea of a burrito was highly appealing. They Boy is always pro-burrito, and thus, it was a perfect decision. Getting from Kingston to Angel was a trek, but we managed it, and it was one of the best burritos I’ve ever had. No lies. I’m sure a lot of that was hunger, and the need to taste something other than last night in my mouth, but good god was that burrito magical. In the umm-ing and ah-ing of what to do next, napping being the immediate priority, we built sculptures in boxes out of left-over tortilla chips…
Eventually, we decided that, having not heard from my friends, and having no immediate desire to wander around a large comic convention that was mainly about bad movies (on the saturday at least), we headed home, dropped the Boy’s drums, and napped till around 8pm. We were THAT rock ‘n roll.
The UEFA final was on that night, so luckily we were roused in time to catch that, watch Bayern Munich get royally screwed over, and see John Terry lift a trophy that he had barely moved a muscle for in that game. The Boy swore a lot, texted a lot, and my mother watched on in fascination, having never seen this ritual before. Afterward, given that with all the mucking around it had gotten to around 11pm, we discovered we were hungry again, and luckily were rewarded in our foraging efforts by the delights of Quorn in the freezer, and oh-so-many condiments. SO MANY. And we made burgers. Quorn, southern fried chicken style veggie burgers. The idea itself was pretty simple; we both wanted junk food, and we found it. Then we wanted as much confusing the flavour of it as possible, so we went through the cupboards, and found everything interesting. They were NOMS.
The Boy’s breakdown of them was as follows:
He was very proud.