Sunday laziness

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Sunday laziness

“Get up you lazy bastard,” I shout into Dwayne’s ear. I kick his sweaty body out of my bed, onto the floor. We went to Ministry of Sound last night to see James Zabiela and Nic Fanciulli play back to back for their new One+One thing. It was a wicked night, but the only downside was Dwayne stayed over.

He had stripped down to his boxers and jumped into my bed before I had time to stop him.

I hate to share my bed with his pathetic bony body, but at 6.30am I had been too tired to protest.

Now it was 8.34am and we had to book tickets for Glastonbury festival.

We had planned it meticulously. Get up early, get on both our laptops and the first person to get through to the website books the tickets.

We try for half an hour to order but all we get is a blank web page. Frustrating.

“Well there’s no point wasting a lovely day like this,” says Dwayne looking out of the window, across the skyline of west London.

The sun felt warm through the glass for what seemed like the first time in ages.

I call Talulla, and the three of us spend the rest of the day laughing at her James Murphy tales and drink beer all afternoon and into the evening.

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