"So, is piano bar just having UN night...?"

Stopped by piano bar last night, as I'd not been able to go in a while; Luke Sanford broke into "Wish You Were Here" when I walked in, as he has ever since a late night conversation on Pink Floyd. Belatedly became aware from the sea of conversation that we were paying host to guests of many nations: England, Sweden, and Australia were all represented, and a lively group they were. Luke amused himself with a brief version of "Waltzing Matalda"; as I was about to request something else, there was a tap on my arm. Turned out someone had bought me a beer; although he was about to leave, we chatted for a moment. Oh, you're from Boston? I'm heading up there tomorrow... Nice, sweet, easy moment. After that, the evening became even more... whatever it was, as the (rather elderly) Swedish man told a lovely story about how he won his first love by singing the only American song he knew, and then launched in to... "A Long Way to Tipperary." (Would any other pianist there besides Luke Sanford- he's the one who knows the theme to The Friendly Giant- know that song?) Then, after that, the Australians began insisting that Luke play Abba as a gesture to our Swedish guests, and I had a hunch it was time to leave.

I never sleep well before travelling; as I was taking an early train, I wound up playing computer games, until it was time to head into the city, and What the fuck is with this wiiiiiiind... Anyway, yeah; now, I'm typing away with the mighty Matty balanced on my lap, tugging on my goatee. Boogie's been ill, so I wasn't able to get my piece shot before leaving the city; hence, I'm also on the phone with Dad, negotiating the use of his video camera. (However, as the rest of the family is of, err, differing political opinions, suspect I won't be able to recruit local talent for voiceover work.) Hmm; suspect I've done just about as much multitasking as I'm capable of in this exhausted state; and now, to bed.