SEPTEMBER 14, 2007
little excuse for not showing my face round here for over a month. I could blame it on the fact a belated summer has finally arrived and that I've been devoting alot of time to working on some more portrait-based things.
Went to a rather grand party in London last night for the New Statesman magazine at the Whitehall Banqueting House
the great and the good (and myself) were in attendance and I ligged for all I was worth stuffing my face with doll's house food and chugging champagne. Gordon Brown was there but I didn't get a chance to gladhand him (nor did I Will Self whom I spotted across the room and meant to accost). Hobnobbed with a few media-types and strangely, for a left wing magazine party I spent some time talking to an unapologetically Conservative City lawyer. Thoroughly affable guy (as Old Money, British public-school boys often are)
Decided that drunkenly knocking a champagne flute from the first floor banister to the lobby below was my cue to call it a night. Mercifully, the glass didn't even smash. The only person who'd witnessed the incident started bizarrely berating me, 'Why did you do it?' as though I were some sort of thrill-seeking sociopath. Said my goodbyes and sloped off to get a $10 sandwich from the railway station to sober me up.
Queens of the Stone Age