last night was a night of house parties for two members of we aeronauts. one managed to return home safely, though cautiously, cycling through a thick blanket of fog in the early hours. one encountered people he vaguely knew, and lost his wallet on that most noble of transport networks, the london night bus system before arriving home at half past eight, an hour before his alarm went off. the likelihood of his wallet being in lost property on monday is as close to nil as you can get- but not quite nil. anyway, the first one was me, and the second one was tom. he ended up at a party with keir in a warehouse in london. i woke this morning in a smoke-fuddled haze to this equation based text message:
"james cunning= tom, keir agnes/luke jones. in a warehouse. Yes yes yes."
maths was never my strong point, but from my limited knowledge i'd hazard that tom, keir and agnes divided by luke jones equals me. sounds about right i guess, but it really is only keir that can make that assumption, i trust him. anyway, at the current time keir was unavailable for comment. his press office shrugged me off. i have however been in contact with tom- who can't remember anything. other than that he lost the aformentioned wallet. and then was 4 hours late for a we aeronauts practice. and then his bass literally broke. and then he had to go back to london. he really didn't have the best sunday. we had a good bit of football after practice, but the next time i spoke to tom he was on the bus, and had been rudely awakened by me telling him marble arch was the best stop for him. i'm willing to bet he slept straight through marble arch.
Anyway, here's how tom looked on friday:
And here's how he was last night/today (artists impression):
so tom, wherever you are, god bless, and good luck looking for your wallet. cancel your cards you berk!
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