You had plenty money 1922

Julie Atherton album launch last night (they advertise it as 'The Delfont Rooms', but seriously, it's the Stalls Bar. Which admittedly is a very nice cabaret space, but you don't need to rename it. Just admit it's the bar)

Hee. Julie adorable and in fine voice. Good songs (mix of Perfect Pitch new stuff, bit of Sondheim, Tori Amos, and acoustic/violin versions of Skunk Anansie's 'Weak' and Linkin Park's 'Crawling'*, and a couple from 'A Girl of Few Words'), rather giggly between songs and taking the piss out of her mum on occasion, with added losing an earring and a mishap with the music stand. Paul Spicer introing her - 'This album was achieved by chucking Julie into the studio'. I always forget how pretty her stage husband is in real life. When she intro'd the band, there was the classic moment of her ear-to-ear grin of 'Tom Parsons' and the audience cheering. What dedicated fans? I know no dedicated fans. Which includes 'please tell me that he has more than one of those v-neck t-shirts.' and 'oh good, she's ditched the blonde'.

*Yes, we were blinking a bit too.

Prior to that, went to the Regent St 'Taste of Spain' thing they'd been advertising to waste an hour pre-concert. Which... argh. As soon as I got there, you could tell it was Spanish tourist board-organised. Which should tell you all you need to know. A couple of not great food stalls, loads of tents with bugger all in, massive crowds desperately looking for something to do (fortunately, several clothes shops down Regents St) to the point that they're mobbing one of the tourist stands for free cotton bags, sports demo bits that either weren't working/didn't have anyone on/mostly the MC. Also slightly disturbing : there were churro stands at each end. The queues at each were a good 100+ people, winding round like a queue for a fairground ride. Seriously. it's churros. Deep-fried snack you dip in chocolate. You get them at most seasonal South Bank events. How bloody desperate are you for food? There were icecream vans too... So instead I looked into a few shops I don't normally look into (turns out Calvin Klein does 30DD bras for the same price as Bravissimo, so worth keeping an eye on when they've next got a sale) and meandered into the Regents St food court bit where I found nice pizza in the shade at Piccolino. Sadly not enough time to get a caipirinha at the cocktail bar next door, though.

FUCKING. GORGEOUS. (gacked from porphyre). No, seriously. Go look. aerial night photography of London, and I've never seen it look so damn gorgeous.

It's like the Torchwood aerial shots which make Cardiff look supremely sexy. Only more so because London has different colours and the City's lit-up and you have the river reflecting it. Seriously. I knew it was damn pretty at night from a distance (essentially, go to the south bank in the evening and look north) but ohhhhh, aerial shots. Jason Hawke. have my shallow photography geek babies.

Self, you are not allowed to snigger at authors just because their last name is 'Dalekos'. Resist the urge to go 'exterminate!'.

Went Anthony Gormley at Hayward yesterday. ( Wee, disorientation )

And in conclusion to the post yesterday - after a bit of a doze yesterday evening (interrupted by letting agent, during which I opened door, went 'grmph', stumbled back to bed, then went 'grmph - yeah' on them asking to check the room, went 'grmph' again as a goodbye - I think I'm adopting this for all future viewings, it *works*) and getting what I think was 7 1/2 hours last night (took me a while to fall asleep), feeling oodles better.