Yesterday I lost another virginity. Since I started going to London I lost quite a few, but the act of losing my live poetry readings virginity was one of the best so far.
Having promised Brett (one of the many lovely acquaintances I have made since moving here) I would come, not being entirely sure about the whole thing (live poetry reading and me has been on the "scenarios that surely won't play out" list for a long time), I packed my stuff and left office at about 19:30. I work just down the road from The Plough at Museum Street, where Poetry Shack made camp last night, so a few minutes later I was there.
UPDATE: Please note, as of late Poetry Shack has taken residence at The Old Crown, 33 New Oxford Street. Yes. It is the place without a sign outside, opposite the burger bar. No. It is not the place called The Crown located confusingly few doors down the street.
Having received the invite via an Internet forum where me and some friends hang out, I wasn't really sure who Brett was, or what he looked like. He did send me a photo which rendered in me a curious feeling of recognition, but he still didn't look really like the Brett in "Brett and Silvia" who I have met a few times while out clubbing. The lack of neon clothing and sweat must have been what put me off track, 'cause as I met and shook hands with him I realized that it was that Brett (also, Silvia standing right next to him was a helpful clue as to Brett's true identity). Sneaky, sending me such a normal photo...