Concrete block...

The new home for Hull Truck has well and truly made its mark on the skyline now. I've been promised a site tour soon which will be pretty useful given that I'm writing some new pieces with the intention of them being performed in what is, right now, just a hefty slab of concrete in my mind. A quick glance at a contract reminded me that I need to get my finger out soon. Unfortunately, this nonsense that I'm involved with during the day to ensure that I can at least make some token inroads into the outstanding bills is getting in the way of any creative thinking right now.

To town for some lunch. We were a party of six and the order at this simple tavern selling simple Sunday fayre seemed very simple to deliver to simple old me. Somehow, they (the tavern) managed to mess things up. The waitress seemed to pin the blame on me for incorrectly ordering food that I didn't want, despite me holding in my hands a piece of paper (ie an itemised bill) that suggested that I knew exactly what I was doing. I started to tell her where she'd gone wrong when she walked off, citing "this food I'm holding in my hands is getting cold while you make up your mind what you want. I'll take it back to the kitchen" as an excuse for her about turn. Which stopped me in my tracks before I could let a tirade of Larry Davidisms spring forth. Shame. It would have been fun. We got our revenge by stealing lots of sachets of sauce.

Listening: Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles; The Kooks - Konk.