The days that I call "Meh" days are all too frequent now. You know, the ones that merge in to the previous day? These days can't even be called good days. That sounds far more melodramatic than necessary but it seems the best way to describe them as they are not memorable for any reason. What I've learned though, is that these "Meh" days are necessary to make the other days comparable; a yard stick (I'm still resisting the transfer to the the metric system) by which to measure how time has treated me and my existence. And vice versa. There was a day a few weeks ago that I should have written about immediately. It was awesome. I mean that in the traditional sense of the word; breath-taking and astounding, not just "cool" as the overuse of the word implies these days.
My normal working days are non-descript and have seen me hurtle through this sticky summer (ok, it's raining now but it'll be humid again, believe me. I am Indian, I can sense an Indian summer!) as my routine is rigid; I get up at the same time everyday, I get the same train everyday, I get served my usual coffee by the same hot Italian barista everyday - that's not a complaint! - I get to the office at the same time everyday. I then listen to women moan about shit that doesn't really matter. Every. Fucking. Day. Their complaints prompt me to want to shout, "It's only a sodding lipstick! Get a grip!" but I can't and have to pretend that their issue is the worst thing in the world. Until I take up the next complaint, then the fact that someone only got four samples in her bag, rather than five, becomes the most serious matter I've ever had to deal with. You're feeling my pain, right?
So, this day - Wednesday 21st July - promised a break from the monotony and delivered spectacularly. Firstly, I was permitted a day away from my desk! Several brands stocked by the company I work for were visiting our office and educating us in new products. Now, for most of you that probably sounds rather boring but this is the part of my job I love and is why I do what I do. The science behind the products and the way they work with the layers of the skin is all product porn - mmm! And then there's the freebies!
Anyway, after this daytime of fun(!) I was meeting a friend to venture to a venue on Little Portland Street to see Pete Lawrie and his band play. Yes, I'm still obsessed with the man's music. And this gig was even more exciting for me as it was back in my comfort zone on West London rather than the Trustafarian North London site of the last shindig. My working day finished earlier than expected so I popped to the local cafe for an extra hot skinny chai latte (you know I'm particular!) to wait for my friend. I was pleasantly surprised to discover my favourite Italian barista was working. He falls under the "favourite" category mostly because he's young and hot, not for his coffee making skills, unfortunately. The place was empty so The Barista joined me for a coffee and a chat. We've been jokily flirting for some time now so this isn't as weird as it may sound. He was very charming and made me laugh lots, I felt like a fifteen year old with a ridiculous crush as I giggled coquettishly. I tweeted, in my jovial way, about the situation I found myself in. The Barista is a regular tweet topic and my followers get concerned if he's not mentioned for a while. "Having coffee with The Hot Italian Barista. Does this count as a first date?" My followers were appreciative of the update. All except one; A guy I was almost involved with at the time. My friend arrived at the same time as a text from this guy telling me to delete all his details and wishing me luck with The Barista. I didn't realise coffee meant marriage these days! That kind of behaviour would have got sympathy from me and made me feel so guilty just six months ago. Now though, I have no time for it so I fulfilled his wishes. Not even his ridiculous outlook on our, erm, "romance" could dampen my spirits.
So, then the highlight of my day - Pete's gig. I hadn't realised he was gigging until the week before. I'd been called a racist term in the street on my way to work and tweeted about it. Pete was the first to respond with sound advice, "Ignore them, Biscuit". After a few exchanges he informed me that he was playing in Londres so I booked my ticket tout de suite. I also made Pete promise he'd give me a massive hug - well, there must be some advantages to being his favourite blogger! This, before you say anything, is a title he bestowed upon me. Yes, perhaps it was to shut me up but I still wear my crown with pride. Like an excitable pup I entered the venue, got myself a gin and tonic and made myself comfortable in a booth not too far from the stage. I was engrossed in conversation with my friend when a tap on the shoulder and "Where's my hug then?" alerted me to the presence of Pete. A very nervous Pete. We spoke for a little while before he went of to prepare for his headlining moment. As I sat down again I noticed I was being thrown "evils" by some girls. Ho hum. The second act, a guy called Tinashe, was brilliant. He had such energy and a beautiful voice. His drummer reminded me of Animal from The Muppets. No Joke. They were very entertaining to watch.
And then (drum roll please - Elliot?) the headline act - Pete Lawrie and the band. There were teething issues - mic lead, I think - so Pete silenced the crowd in order that he and Elliot could perform the first song without microphones with Pete on guitar and Elliot tapping some box thing. My knowledge of musical instruments is second to none! Normal service was resumed as the lead was found. I was in my element as Pete, Elliot and Mike played. It doesn't take too much to please me, as well you know, but listening to them live seems to transport me to my happy place. There were very amusing points of the evening too - mainly seeing the usually cool Mike getting increasing irritated by the venue's sound guy passing him at least twice during every song to check the levels. Not something that one would usually find irritating but Mike had to move the neck of his bass in the middle of songs every time this guy traipsed past him.
I managed not to shed a tear during Jimmy and the Birds on Fire - one of my favourites as it's about losing a friend - despite crying every time I listen to it, including on my train journeys to and from work. As I spotted the set list, stuck with gaffer tape on the wall near Elliot, I saw a song called HAG which I was hoping Pete had written about me, aside from the unflattering title. Turns out it's actually short for Half As Good. This brought my second goosebump moment of the evening; HAG flowed in to Dust and they are both beautiful songs. So beautiful that I was mesmerised for the few minutes they were played. I almost forgot to breathe.
You see, I can't moan about the "Meh" days because days like the one I experienced wouldn't stand out so much. I'd take them for granted. This day gave me the ReadyBrek glow that not even a text from the aforementioned weird guy when I got home could dim. Please don't pity me. There have been more good, great and awesome days lately for which I am incredibly grateful. As the title of this post suggests, we must take the rough with the smooth. The title, for your reference, is from Pete's song How Could I Complain and he kindly gave me permission to use it. Actually, he's the only one I've ever asked for permission so he should feel privileged!
The only thing that could have made my night slightly better would have been a smile from Elliot. Despite following him on Twitter (and warning him about the time difference as you travel along the M4) and, most importantly, having made eye contact a few times, I was not permitted an Elliot grin. Perhaps he thinks I'm a silly girly groupie type. For your information, I'm not. I save my jockey slutting for Mark Ronson! But next time I see them I'm determined I'll get a smile out of him. I've had one from ultra-cool Mike and several from Pete, Elliot's is the only one I'm missing from the collectors' series.
Oh, the other reason I was thrilled at the gig was although they'd played at Glasto and several other festivals since I'd last seen them, there was still present the humility that captivated me the first time. No airs and graces, just three lads who'd had an adventure together over, what sounds like from Pete's tweets and blog, and epic and amazing summer for them - they even seemed to enjoy their infamously unreliable van being robbed and running out of fuel at inopportune moments.
Pete's new EP, All That We Keep, is out now. I've heard the songs. Two words - buy it. And if you're in London tomorrow night - Wednesday 25th August - he's playing in Soho. Please go. you'll have an amazing time listening to amazing music. I won't be able to go to my happy place tomorrow as I can't make the gig due to funds being tight for various reasons this month. And I haven't bought the EP just yet for the same reason. I'm not being a hypocrite deliberately, honestly. Just because I'm not going doesn't mean you shouldn't. They're probably sick of the sight of me by now anyway!
Remember the name, people - Pete Lawrie. This time next year he'll be huge. x
My normal working days are non-descript and have seen me hurtle through this sticky summer (ok, it's raining now but it'll be humid again, believe me. I am Indian, I can sense an Indian summer!) as my routine is rigid; I get up at the same time everyday, I get the same train everyday, I get served my usual coffee by the same hot Italian barista everyday - that's not a complaint! - I get to the office at the same time everyday. I then listen to women moan about shit that doesn't really matter. Every. Fucking. Day. Their complaints prompt me to want to shout, "It's only a sodding lipstick! Get a grip!" but I can't and have to pretend that their issue is the worst thing in the world. Until I take up the next complaint, then the fact that someone only got four samples in her bag, rather than five, becomes the most serious matter I've ever had to deal with. You're feeling my pain, right?
So, this day - Wednesday 21st July - promised a break from the monotony and delivered spectacularly. Firstly, I was permitted a day away from my desk! Several brands stocked by the company I work for were visiting our office and educating us in new products. Now, for most of you that probably sounds rather boring but this is the part of my job I love and is why I do what I do. The science behind the products and the way they work with the layers of the skin is all product porn - mmm! And then there's the freebies!
Anyway, after this daytime of fun(!) I was meeting a friend to venture to a venue on Little Portland Street to see Pete Lawrie and his band play. Yes, I'm still obsessed with the man's music. And this gig was even more exciting for me as it was back in my comfort zone on West London rather than the Trustafarian North London site of the last shindig. My working day finished earlier than expected so I popped to the local cafe for an extra hot skinny chai latte (you know I'm particular!) to wait for my friend. I was pleasantly surprised to discover my favourite Italian barista was working. He falls under the "favourite" category mostly because he's young and hot, not for his coffee making skills, unfortunately. The place was empty so The Barista joined me for a coffee and a chat. We've been jokily flirting for some time now so this isn't as weird as it may sound. He was very charming and made me laugh lots, I felt like a fifteen year old with a ridiculous crush as I giggled coquettishly. I tweeted, in my jovial way, about the situation I found myself in. The Barista is a regular tweet topic and my followers get concerned if he's not mentioned for a while. "Having coffee with The Hot Italian Barista. Does this count as a first date?" My followers were appreciative of the update. All except one; A guy I was almost involved with at the time. My friend arrived at the same time as a text from this guy telling me to delete all his details and wishing me luck with The Barista. I didn't realise coffee meant marriage these days! That kind of behaviour would have got sympathy from me and made me feel so guilty just six months ago. Now though, I have no time for it so I fulfilled his wishes. Not even his ridiculous outlook on our, erm, "romance" could dampen my spirits.
So, then the highlight of my day - Pete's gig. I hadn't realised he was gigging until the week before. I'd been called a racist term in the street on my way to work and tweeted about it. Pete was the first to respond with sound advice, "Ignore them, Biscuit". After a few exchanges he informed me that he was playing in Londres so I booked my ticket tout de suite. I also made Pete promise he'd give me a massive hug - well, there must be some advantages to being his favourite blogger! This, before you say anything, is a title he bestowed upon me. Yes, perhaps it was to shut me up but I still wear my crown with pride. Like an excitable pup I entered the venue, got myself a gin and tonic and made myself comfortable in a booth not too far from the stage. I was engrossed in conversation with my friend when a tap on the shoulder and "Where's my hug then?" alerted me to the presence of Pete. A very nervous Pete. We spoke for a little while before he went of to prepare for his headlining moment. As I sat down again I noticed I was being thrown "evils" by some girls. Ho hum. The second act, a guy called Tinashe, was brilliant. He had such energy and a beautiful voice. His drummer reminded me of Animal from The Muppets. No Joke. They were very entertaining to watch.
And then (drum roll please - Elliot?) the headline act - Pete Lawrie and the band. There were teething issues - mic lead, I think - so Pete silenced the crowd in order that he and Elliot could perform the first song without microphones with Pete on guitar and Elliot tapping some box thing. My knowledge of musical instruments is second to none! Normal service was resumed as the lead was found. I was in my element as Pete, Elliot and Mike played. It doesn't take too much to please me, as well you know, but listening to them live seems to transport me to my happy place. There were very amusing points of the evening too - mainly seeing the usually cool Mike getting increasing irritated by the venue's sound guy passing him at least twice during every song to check the levels. Not something that one would usually find irritating but Mike had to move the neck of his bass in the middle of songs every time this guy traipsed past him.
I managed not to shed a tear during Jimmy and the Birds on Fire - one of my favourites as it's about losing a friend - despite crying every time I listen to it, including on my train journeys to and from work. As I spotted the set list, stuck with gaffer tape on the wall near Elliot, I saw a song called HAG which I was hoping Pete had written about me, aside from the unflattering title. Turns out it's actually short for Half As Good. This brought my second goosebump moment of the evening; HAG flowed in to Dust and they are both beautiful songs. So beautiful that I was mesmerised for the few minutes they were played. I almost forgot to breathe.
You see, I can't moan about the "Meh" days because days like the one I experienced wouldn't stand out so much. I'd take them for granted. This day gave me the ReadyBrek glow that not even a text from the aforementioned weird guy when I got home could dim. Please don't pity me. There have been more good, great and awesome days lately for which I am incredibly grateful. As the title of this post suggests, we must take the rough with the smooth. The title, for your reference, is from Pete's song How Could I Complain and he kindly gave me permission to use it. Actually, he's the only one I've ever asked for permission so he should feel privileged!
The only thing that could have made my night slightly better would have been a smile from Elliot. Despite following him on Twitter (and warning him about the time difference as you travel along the M4) and, most importantly, having made eye contact a few times, I was not permitted an Elliot grin. Perhaps he thinks I'm a silly girly groupie type. For your information, I'm not. I save my jockey slutting for Mark Ronson! But next time I see them I'm determined I'll get a smile out of him. I've had one from ultra-cool Mike and several from Pete, Elliot's is the only one I'm missing from the collectors' series.
Oh, the other reason I was thrilled at the gig was although they'd played at Glasto and several other festivals since I'd last seen them, there was still present the humility that captivated me the first time. No airs and graces, just three lads who'd had an adventure together over, what sounds like from Pete's tweets and blog, and epic and amazing summer for them - they even seemed to enjoy their infamously unreliable van being robbed and running out of fuel at inopportune moments.
Pete's new EP, All That We Keep, is out now. I've heard the songs. Two words - buy it. And if you're in London tomorrow night - Wednesday 25th August - he's playing in Soho. Please go. you'll have an amazing time listening to amazing music. I won't be able to go to my happy place tomorrow as I can't make the gig due to funds being tight for various reasons this month. And I haven't bought the EP just yet for the same reason. I'm not being a hypocrite deliberately, honestly. Just because I'm not going doesn't mean you shouldn't. They're probably sick of the sight of me by now anyway!
Remember the name, people - Pete Lawrie. This time next year he'll be huge. x
