Azerbaijan

I have to admit a slight disappointment that Iceland didn’t win Eurovision. It’s all very well to see what oil-rich Russia can do with (apparently) 30% of the world’s LED screens, but how much more charming to see what bankrupt Iceland could do next year with a disused fish-packing warehouse and some crepe paper streamers. Andy the Gay Policeman was dismayed that Europe voted overwhelmingly for the elfin-faced Norwegian boy. “That’s so gay!”

We made up our own dances to the songs and, after a near miss early in the evening with some avocado, I took my spangly jacket off because it was expensive. D mooched by on his way to the kitchen and stopped for a moment to watch me standing and bouncing topless on the sofa while Andy vogued to the Azerbaijani song (and by the way, since when was Azerbaijan in Europe?) before shuffling wordlessly off.

I’ve had my first exam today and that seemed to go OK. I’m one of those horribly smug people who takes exams in her stride because I learned long ago that they’re nothing to do with being clever, just to do with a few simple revision tricks. Plus I took my knitted rabbit with me in my rucksack and that made all the difference. Four more to go.

Once upon a time, the British could win international song competitions with stuff like this.  Meanwhile, in a parallel universe at exactly the same moment, John Lydon was getting into a fight with the audience in the 100 Club.