What a complicated day.
I had intended to use the morning to finish the Hares Thing, but in fact spend the first bit of it trying to communicate with the council and then…
Ok, deep breath.
I wake up at 6:30 and, after sitting, establish that the hot water has gone phut along with the bathroom light. This is on account of all the water that has leaked down from upstairs. I resolve to try to call the council (again) after leaving a message on the Freeholder’s Agent’s answerphone, reminding him what good friends water and electricity are and how combining them isn’t in the least bit dangerous.
Then I look at the Council website to see if I can find an appropriate department. On calling I’m told firstly that I am not their area, so then I’m put through to another number, which is also the wrong area, then the right area, but am told in no uncertain terms that they don’t deal with people like me. On asking who I should be speaking to, the woman says that she doesn’t know, doesn’t care but it’s not her.
I call Environmental Health (despite the fact that they claim only to be responsible for health at work) to see what they say. They say they’ll get back to me after I make vague threats about the upstairs neighbour’s water supply. Now water and electricity are comixed it’s an environmental health problem. Whoop de doo.
Having mentioned that I was calling the Council (does he know about their being as much use as a paper towel in a tidal wave?) the Freeholder’s Agent calls back saying that it will definitely be dealt with tomorrow. Now it’s an emergency. It was an emergency when it started six months ago. It was a critical emergency when I called him four months ago. It’s now been cranked up to the point that I don’t think the mere word “emergency” covers it any more. I’m not sure that it really sinks in when I tell him that I’m not paying for the repairs (or the redecoration, for that matter). Or the various destroyed things.
Then I go up to the gym to take a shower, which I suspect I’ll be doing a lot in the next few weeks.
When I get back from there I talk to Joe Q on the phone and then set off for his place in Wood Green – I’ll deliver the bass to him and then he’ll bring it to the gig tonight. Then I meet up with Maude in Camden Town.
Maude was at Los Molinos, as an AT instructor. We wander about Regent’s Park for a few hours, chatting. It’s a relief to be able to talk about GC and stuff with someone who was there and went through the same process, and Maude is an especially good person to talk to because she’s lived in that way for such a long time. I’m not at my best, perhaps, because I’m still wound up from this morning, which makes me jittery and verbose. More verbose than usual.
I know. The horror. Poor Maude.
Camden Town gets more and more Camden Town-ish every time I see it (which is about once every five years).
The Joe gig is typically chaotic, but I quite enjoy that. The venue – The Verge – is a real Rock Venue rather than a bit of a pub, very loud indeed. The sound’s quite good – I’m using someone’s big Trace Elliot amp, not entirely with his permission, I suspect. I quell any moral misgivings I might have to get through the gig and use it anyway. Honour convenience. I do enjoy it – lot of low end, a period where we seem to be making pure noise. Quite liberating. The band after us is tuneful and polished. Tastefully rocky. I find it unbearable and have to leave.