Four months late, I know.

You watch this for a minute thinking 'No... this can't possibly be Ladytron...' but then the oboe comes in and it's like 'oh yes! I remember now!' and then you hear the vocals and it's none other than Bryan Ferry (although I personally like to pretend it's Thom Yorke) but yeah, I had never heard of James Small until I found out Jamie Hince from The Kills had kindly made the promo vid for his collection. Both artists talented in their own right of course.

From Noel Fielding to Louie Spence, it seemed like everybody was at the W Hotel party celebrating James Small and the premier of this short film.

I love this picture of Agyness Deyn and Florence Welch together. It seemed like the party.

Still, Kate Moss had been there. And had I of known at the time that she would go on to later throw the ONLY copies of The Kills' 6 new songs for the new album into a swimming pool, I would of suffocated her. But yes, this is all in hindsight and rather retrospective.

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Last night I indulged in Sky Arts 1. I watched 'David Bowie at 50' or whatever it was called for an hour, my God isn't he still so dandy? I then watched Andy Warhol's Factory People which was basically a load of 'once-upon-a-time-NY-cool-cats' rambling on about how high everybody was when they went to the 'Factory' and how unapproachable yet genius Warhol was. Still, it was interesting. Then I watched a Sex Pistols reunion gig from a few years back. My problem with that was the idea of there being no Sid. I know Sid isn't the entire cusp of the band, however, he played a massive part in their look, attitude and reputation. (Notice how I didn't say musicality, yes, Sid Vicious was a shit bassist). But nevertheless, Johnny Rotten is still as impressionable as ever, and still as much of a fucking cunt. God I salute him. Then finally, due to the whole drug, rock n'roll, punk, cool kid fuelled night I put on Velvet Goldmine when I went to bed. He he, I woke up feeling so trashy.

When I woke up I watched The Shackles of Sherlock. Don't get me wrong, I completely understand Conan Doyle's personal pursuit to be known for more significant things than Sherlock. But ultimately Sherlock brought Doyle fame and fortune, his 14th century novels did not. And for a man in circumstances such as his, perhaps selling out ever so slightly by providing the world with the addictive sleuth of a substance that is Sherlock Holmes was maybe an OK thing to do....

Moving on, today I caught up with some peeps and went to Tesco all before cooking dinner. This time it was roast pork with pears & parsnips. Twas most delicious. Now I'm besotted with Alice Glass pictures and learning about the 88 modern constellations. Oh but actually, I want to relive the return of Sherlock Holmes - The Empty House.