Last night I went with my Valentine’s date to the NME music awards dinner. It wasn’t because I’m actually a really successful song writer on the quiet, or i was invited by Liam Gallagher, it was just a case of me having seen tickets for sale and I bought one. I suppose these things always have a spectator allocation, to get extra clapping volume ?
Anyway, I went with a(n) un/lucky lady and we saw various luminaries winning awards, and heard various bands/ artists playing their award winning stuff, which varied from great to not so great, to be honest, but overall it was definitely worth the considerable effort of the journey.
My date was definitely shocked by just how hard it is for me to travel. I just have to take the difficulties on the chin, as the price I have to pay for still living life to my ( new ) full. I could stay in all of the time, and it could all be SO much easier, but for sure I’d get depressed and top myself eventually ( and no, I’m not joking ).
What was actually apparent having heard all the various music people speaking on stage, both winners and presenters, was how bloody thick they all were. I wasn’t quite sure how to phrase that last sentence, so I just said it how it was, rather than, well, lie. They all seemed to struggle to string a coherent sentence together. I suppose you could conclude that that’s why they are in the music business, because they’d really struggle to ‘do a proper job’.
Christ, I sound like an old codger.
The journeys there and back, planned in advance as always. çame very much undone when I heard whilst en route to Brixton tube station that the lift there was out of operation ( actually until September ). As my iBot has very limited battery charge, I know not to risk long journeys in it, and suddenly I had just those, now having to switch from Tube to bus at Vauxhall, which wasn’t that straightforward and used up essential battery power. The very real worry that I really might get stuck somewhere without any charge, with a girl that has absolutely zero chance of pushing 250kgs of IBot and me, is actually very mentally stressful for me, which almost makes me not want to use the iBot, which then means I’m deprived of height, which has its own huge disadvantages. Last night, the wheelchair section wasn’t actually that – it was sort of a general standing area, and if I hadn’t had the iBot I’d have been stuffed for a view…. so I’m in a no win situation really, in that sense.
The journey back, late, cold, with buses that didn’t arrive, and then when they did, didn’t stop, the Uber that I called that couldn’t find me etc etc, was depressing. As usual, I put it all behind me and I tell myself it was all worth it, which of course it IS, to me.
Because I’ll be fucked if I surrender and rust away in this chair.
Tonight I’m going to another gig actually – the once mighty Simple Minds are playing in Camden.
‘Alive and kicking’, after all – like me.