life is beautiful

So much to write about since V2001, which is still reverberating through my head (well, I have decided to buy Nelly Furtado’s album, anyway). Last Friday, I had the day off, as I was going to Norfolk to spend the bank holiday weekend with George’s family in a little cottage on the Broads. We had planned on going Friday night but, due to a free concert on Clapham Common (more about that later) we decided to set off early on Saturday morning instead.

This left me in the enviable position of a day off with not much to do, so I met George and her colleagues for lunch, and then went on for more lunch with Am, an old, burnt-out university friend of mine (she won’t mind me saying that, I hope!), both of which were very nice. Then it was off to easyrentacar, where I had booked a car a couple of weeks ago for this weekend.

I had heard some bad things about easyrentacar, but decided to give them the benefit of the doubt anyway (and, of course, they were very cheap). I realised on the tube up to Edgware Road that I hadn’t brought my secondary form of identification, and with growing horror, read that they required either a bank or utility bill or passport. Arse, I thought. Let’s see if I can blag it anyway, with some scrappy bits of paper that were in my bag. Thankfully, I managed to use an id card that I had picked up on my travels (Canada, to be exact) for them to accept. Just a warning though – they are very inflexible about this requirement, so take lots of id with you!

So, with my id suitably confirmed, they swiped my credit card.

And it was declined.

After a lengthy call to my bank, it turned out that somebody had cancelled my card and ordered me a new one. The reason? Clerical error. Credit-card less, there was no way that they would let me take the car away, not even after talking to the bank. Thankfully George works nearby and was able to come up and show her credit card and we were able to take the car away. Bloomin’ heck, it doesn’t sound that bad here, but at the time it all seemed extremely stressful, believe me…

friday night

We went up to Clapham Common to see a free set performed by Paul Oakenfold, the last in a series of free outdoor concerts to get young people interested in cricket. The link? I have absolutely no idea.

Anyway, the concert was OK – I am not a huge fan of the kind of music that ‘Oaky’ plays (when the crowd started chanting this at the end of the show, I was certain they were chanting ‘Porky’…), and we spent most of the night moving out of the way of people just walking around, getting in the way of my dancing. Fools.

Still, it was free and it was a five minute walk from my flat. Sometimes I love living in London.

and the weekend

Well, an early(ish) start on Saturday and a five hour drive (about two hours longer than we thought, due to traffic and horrible London suburbs. Sometimes I hate living in London) got us to Hickling Broad in Norfolk, where George’s parents had rented a cottage (appropriately named Watersedge) for a week, and where we were going to spend our relaxing bank holiday weekend. But more of that, later…