Woah, I was a total klutz. I went to on the wrong bit of the Northern Line, and then found out I was just in the wrong damn area and needed to get to Hackney. I made it, pausing only to buy a Double Decker, and found the round church (note: not the round house) where I saw Alan Moore and Stewart Lee say smart things.
I did watercolour drawings. Some cool kids mocked me. They were fairly on the money; my indoor watercolours are pretty sucky. But I got too into it and missed my train. I ended up catching a night bus (so exotic!) where a crazy person stared at me (so London!).
And when I say “kids”, I mean young whippersnappers in their early twenties, all London-cool and confident. In a better world, you could picture me saying “What’s that, kiddo? My use of watercolour is an outdated medium that doesn’t really relate to this environment? Really? Well fuck you. I would have got away with it, if it wasn’t for you pesky meddling twats.”
