Crazycrone (crazycrone) wrote,

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No Joy In Mudville...

Walking through Covent Garden 9:30-ish this morning was weird; So incredibly silent, you just knew that England's Dreaming was at an ignominious end. I couldn't care less, personally, but it is kinda sad, after all the hullaballoo.
Had the last Writing Through the Block class this morning, and got stuck going along to the Poetry Cafe, afterwards, as it's kind of dificult not to. I tried waiting upstairs until I thought they'd all gone, and when I scuttled out the door, thinking I'd escaped, there they all were. Yaaaah! The Poetry Cafe is absurdly expensive, so I just ordered a piece o'toast and tea.As usual, I couldn't hear half of what was going on, and thought the tutor said she'd paid. ( 'Gosh, that's generous', thought I, retardedly-) Anyway, she left, and the others started to disperse. Outside, I said to the woman who was annoying enough to walk off in the same direction.'Nice of C. to pay.' - She looked at me with glassy eyeballs... The tutor had NOT paid. I was too embarrassed to go back, so fuck it. I never wanted to go there anyway!
The fascinating woman who published the ghost book did manage to avoid the Poetry Cafe. She always ran out of class at the end. Unfortunately, I can't move that quickly any more.

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