There used to be a lot of ritual in my life, constant practices that allowed me to measure out the week and know where I was. Wednesday night: DJ at the Exeter. Thursday: Lost In Space at the Governor Hindmarsh. Friday: Slumberland at Proscenium. Saturday: Gig at The Grace Emily or Crown and Anchor. Sunday: Day of rest.
These days everyday is like Sunday. Last night I had the lounge room disco. Put on some CDs that I burnt with my friend Tom for a cold Christmas Day in London, had a bit of a dance around and then suddenly was extraordinarily tired and in bed by 10.30.
Saturday is my day of rest now, because I sleep through most of it. I got up at 11am, have had a two hour nap and now at tea time am ready to go back to bed. I'm just too old for this rock and roll lifestyle.
Speaking recently to my friend Princess, who I used to go dancing with regularly and who is now the proud owner of a eight month old, we reckon there's a market out there for a new kind of club. One that opens at 5pm, plays the music we like to dance to (not this young people's stuff), and shuts up shop around midnight so that we can go home to bed and the whipper snappers can move in. I guess a childcare centre would be a good addition to. And Coopers on tap please.
If there are any independently wealthy types out there who would like to fund this, we even have the venue picked!
Let It Be Sunday, 163!
1 day ago