Kidnapped
I nearly fell over. There I was, minding my own business at the gig of my new favourite nutter-musician, and he's looking me right in the eye and name-checking me. In the middle of a song.
And he did. Stay at my place, that is.
He's just as lovely as I thought he'd be. We were all up til 3am nattering. "You know," he said, "How sometimes you just really want to go to bed but you stay up to be polite... and then sometimes you're really enjoying yourself and don't want to go to bed." Which I hope means that he coped all right with the look-at-my-house look-at-my-book look-at-me look-at-me onslaught that is a drunken Clare. Oh dear.
My head hurts.

3 Comments:
Sounds as though you got on fine with the look-at-me-look-at-my-Hornicator onslaught that I imagine might be a drunken Thomas Truax. Ally should have taped the lot and edited it down for a show.
He's actually quite self-effacing. Lookng back, I can't believe I didn't try harder to find out more about the man himself. But no, I was too busy talking about myself. *sigh*
I am rather chuffed about the fact that the hornicator and Sister Spinster both spent the night in our hallway, I have to say.
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