On the way round to Gina's this morning for coffee, I spotted these scary guys who look suspiciously more clued up about the economy than Britain's bankers do.
Gina was in fine form, though a little sad that one of her two-kitten set was gobbled up by an urban fox recently. Only the little black chap survived, and he nestled sweetly on the back of the chair as we chatted and yakked our way through two and a half cups of coffee each. She showed me her latest pop video, which has some lovely lighting effects:; she builds little devices to get what she needs to dramatise her films. She is very creative: one of her films has her riding her bicycle through central London, with a camera on each toe of her boots!
I dashed back home for an appointment at the bank, only to discover that the woman had written it in the wrong day in the diary, but I fought back the desire to snap at her in irritation and bought a USB guitar lead instead so I can set up the computer in the kitchen and record riffs while stirring the ravioli. I may be busking at the next Vintage Clothing Fair in Barnet Church Hall on 12th October, and I can't decide whether to do it old fashioned and just yell and thrash, or whether to take the technical route and buy a practice amp to play through. Yelling in the stairwell, which has a mega-echo, is the most tempting and cheapest option, and I think I'll go for that probably.
I'd better go downstairs. I made a cup of tea 20 minutes ago and it must be getting cold.
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