![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I may need a block and tackle...
Monday, May 19th, 2008 01:08 amIt seems to be nigh impossible to get hold of the Iron Man movie sound track. My latest attempt was thwarted this afternoon on finding that Zavvi (née Virgin) in Camden Town is now a branch of H&M. Another clothes shop, just what the place needs and with the Fopp down by Camden Lock not one of the branches to be given a stay of execution by the recent buy out, Camden is as devoid of mainstream music retailers as it is crawling with small underground indie shops. My trip into the comics shop on Inverness Street was equally fruitless, but Furtle did manage to pick up CD in Resurrection by a band featuring one of her old school friends on vocals. We haven't listened to it yet, but sometime soon in the next few days, I suspect, I shall be treated to the latest opus by the Screaming Banshee Aircrew. I know nothing about them other than it is a fine name for a band.
We washed up at the Edinboro Castle for a couple of pints of cold Frusli strawberry beer, some strange things that seem to have been chickpeas in horse radish coats that nuked the tongue and nasal passages at random intervals, and some considerably cooler-to-the-tongue chilli coated things.
On the way home we popped into Waitrose to purchase some comestibles and I took the opportunity to restore the karmic balance of our music collection by picking up the Mail on Sunday, which was giving away a free copy of Macca's current album, Memory Almost Full. We shall see.
Yesterday we watched the FA Cup final and as usual I managed to back the losers. Still, it was a reasonably entertaining game and nice that it featured sides other than two of the big four for the first time in a few years.
Before and after the football, we took the opportunity to do a little flat hunting and I am hopeful - to the tune of about 70% - that we have found our next abode. A few things have to be ironed out yet, but it was a hopeful sign that when we were talking to the landlady and her husband rang her, she told him that she was talking to the new tenants. I take that as a good omen.
The flat, if we get it, is a little bigger and slightly more expensive than we were actually looking for, but both Furtle and I were bowled over by it. June promises to be an exceptionally expensive month though, if we can't arrange a little leeway on moving times. Still, we shall prevail.
There is the small matter, however, of getting a 92kg widescreen telly up the outside stairs into the flat. There is an outside terrace; I am thinking a couple of people with muscles like basket balls and a block and tackle array. Do I know anyone like that? Perhaps someone out there in LJ land can tell me, or I think we may have to pay a couple of circus strongmen to drive a white van for us. Big bloke I may be, but upper body strength has never been my forte. I can't shift the brute on the flat, much less up into the new apartment.
Assuming we land it, of course. I am not a superstitious cove as a rule, but I shall say no more on the matter, because I don't want the Karma Pixies to bounce gleefully on the deal.
We washed up at the Edinboro Castle for a couple of pints of cold Frusli strawberry beer, some strange things that seem to have been chickpeas in horse radish coats that nuked the tongue and nasal passages at random intervals, and some considerably cooler-to-the-tongue chilli coated things.
On the way home we popped into Waitrose to purchase some comestibles and I took the opportunity to restore the karmic balance of our music collection by picking up the Mail on Sunday, which was giving away a free copy of Macca's current album, Memory Almost Full. We shall see.
Yesterday we watched the FA Cup final and as usual I managed to back the losers. Still, it was a reasonably entertaining game and nice that it featured sides other than two of the big four for the first time in a few years.
Before and after the football, we took the opportunity to do a little flat hunting and I am hopeful - to the tune of about 70% - that we have found our next abode. A few things have to be ironed out yet, but it was a hopeful sign that when we were talking to the landlady and her husband rang her, she told him that she was talking to the new tenants. I take that as a good omen.
The flat, if we get it, is a little bigger and slightly more expensive than we were actually looking for, but both Furtle and I were bowled over by it. June promises to be an exceptionally expensive month though, if we can't arrange a little leeway on moving times. Still, we shall prevail.
There is the small matter, however, of getting a 92kg widescreen telly up the outside stairs into the flat. There is an outside terrace; I am thinking a couple of people with muscles like basket balls and a block and tackle array. Do I know anyone like that? Perhaps someone out there in LJ land can tell me, or I think we may have to pay a couple of circus strongmen to drive a white van for us. Big bloke I may be, but upper body strength has never been my forte. I can't shift the brute on the flat, much less up into the new apartment.
Assuming we land it, of course. I am not a superstitious cove as a rule, but I shall say no more on the matter, because I don't want the Karma Pixies to bounce gleefully on the deal.