Remon Jerry

Last Friday I went to see the excellent Lemon Jelly at Brixton Academy. The music was cool, the light show was cool, and the atmosphere was cool.

The day until then had consisted of work, a pub lunch at the Fox and Hounds, eating the horribly addictive Poppycock that a colleague had won on the Comic Relief tombola, more work, and then up to London for a quick drink at the novel Prince Alfred, where you have to duck to fit through the little doorways seperating each snug.

On the Saturday night, after an annoying amount of waiting around in the cold for other people to turn up, I was at the Grand Bazaar in a 23-strong group for a birthday meal. The food was excellent and very reasonably priced, and we ended up spending three and a half hours there before a relatively rushed exit when we realised we didn't have long to make it to Waterloo for the last fast train back to Guildford. We needn't have bothered really as we ended up stuck just short of Guildford station for 40 minutes whilst South West Trains tried to find a driver to move the train that was stopping ours from reaching the platform. At least I got to watch a girl lose all her dignity, going for a pee between two rail coaches into a plastic cup. "Classy", an overheard comment from another passenger, summed it up for me.