Ill Met By Daylight

I've taken four days off work to find somewhere new to live and see friends. Today I drove to London to meet Derek, who I knew (but not very well) in Virginia. His girlfriend confused me with Justin in Wonderbar one night. "Oh, I thought you were the Australian... because he just moved here and his girlfriend left him and he's heartbroken." I paused a pause of almost perfect length and said, "No, actually that is me." She was mortified but I thought it was pure comedy.

Somehow bad weather makes morons drive like crap. I was held up for thirty minutes by an accident just outside London. I parked at Hammersmith and took the tube to our agreed meeting place of Tower Records at Piccadilly Circus but, unfortunately, I was thirty minutes tardy. Derek wasn't there. Tower Records wasn't there. It's a Virgin Megastore now (but it's still the only shop of its kind next to the station).

I checked my phone and I'd missed no calls underground. (He doesn't have a number that works here but I'd given him mine anyway.) I waited another ninety minutes in the rain but he didn't show. I'd thought of half a dozen bars around Leicester Square and Covent Garden to drink in too! I bought A History Of Violence and Broken Boy Soldiers and retraced my steps back to Bristol. Total time wasted: 7 hours. People: from now on you carry a phone or we make a contingency plan up-front.

I hope Derek made it to London safely.