This week will be different. This week I will radiate such an aura of thrift and asceticism that next to me the Dalai Lama will look like Puff Daddy. But I think the first step towards this ascent is to document last week’s decline.
Wednesday was relatively refined, in that solid work got done and indulgence only began with dinner with Russ at a wonderful Thai place on Red Lion Street (I forget the name), where I gorged myself on its exquisite chillied fish only a week after gorging myself on its equally satisfying papaya salad and grilled chicken.
Thursday began the downward spiral into extreme consumerism, and some blame has to be squarely placed on Benny, who endured our semi-marathonic Berwick Street trawl with grace, good humour and good recommendations, thus encouraging me to emerge somewhat shocked at the end of it all clutching 6 CDs (see Appendix 1). In my defence I can only say that this was partially financed by the 9 I sold (see Appendix 2). Borders yielded coffee, conversation, and finally, finally, finally, a copy of The Wire with the free double CD, which my local newsagents sold out of within days of its release. Two coffees and an added Alec later, we moseyed down to Malaysia Kopitiam (Wardour Street) for dinner. Benny’s already done a spot-on review of the place (post for 23/11), to which I need only add that my Hainanese chicken rice was perhaps a little bloodier than I like it, but the chilli was authentic, and as anyone who knows will know, it’s almost all in the chilli. My dessert of tau huay (beancurd) was as smooth and silky as the place near Jago Close at home in Singapore makes it, and all in all, I’m definitely going back.
Culinary G-spot titilation continued on Friday with Nick at South in Shoreditch, where I had bunny with prunes in red wine, washed down with, er, more red wine. On the way back to Nick’s place we unfortunately had to walk past The Spread Eagle which brought back traumatic memories, but apart from that moment of stress for me it was a good night out with a dear friend I don’t get to see often, and that made for warm fuzzy feelings.
On Saturday morning I trimmed my goatee and popped down to the National Theatre with Nav to watch Voyage, the first play in Tom Stoppard’s The Coast Of Utopia trilogy. Saturday night brought oodles of red wine celebrating Chris’s birthday, and Sunday a dim sum lunch with Laura and Katy.
I sense the spectre of poverty around the corner. It smells of reduced Safeway’s chicken and old cabbage, and its teeth are glittering CD shards. I think it’s coming for me.
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Appendix 1: Bought
- Low: Trust
- Boards of Canada: Geogaddi
- Coldcut: Journeys By DJ
- Amon Tobin: Out From Out Where
- Prefuse 73: Vocal Studies And Uprock Narratives
- Ninja Tune (compilation): Cold Krush Cuts
Appendix 2: Sold
- April March: Chrominance Decoder (boredom chronicled here)
- Starlight Mints: The Dream That Stuff Was Made Of
- Money Mark: Push The Button
- Sebadoh: The Sebadoh
- Wagon Christ: Tally Ho!
- Kid Loco: A Grand Love Story
- Blonde Redhead: In An Expression Of The Inexpressible
- Esthero: Breath From Another
- Galaxie 500: The Portable Galaxie 500
It should probably also be mentioned:
- That on Sunday I also ordered the new Missy Elliot and Sigur Ros from CD-Wow
- And am planning to get the new Massive Attack from there as well
- And am also tempted by the new Tori Amos. Must resist. Must resist.