Month: March 2002

It’s an absolutely gorgeous morning. And I’m filled with the urge to be ultra productive, so expect it to be fairly quiet here today.

Happy birthday to Marianne.

Decidedly fuzzy around the edges this morning (which is exactly what happens if you stand around drinking until 1am), and wondering what the hell I was going on about in that last post. Suggestions on a postcard please.

Meanwhile, in spite of Dan induced good taste, I’ve never liked A-Ha, elves, washing up or garlic. Honestly. Well, maybe garlic. But only to keep vampires away.
I think I’ll go to bed now. And not phone any single women I know.
Because that would be a bad idea.
Yes, really, it would.

Beer tonight (oh feck, it’s 1.10am!) with Paul F, Malcolm, Vince, Gary and numerous others.

I’m ashamed to say that I know this man. His regular buns are much more edible.

What is it with people coming to my door and asking directions lately? Do I have a big sign saying “lost? ask here!”? (nope, just been and checked). The other day someone was looking for number 197 in my street (that’ll be the big blue house with 197 on the door then) and I’ve just had a bloke at my door asking for 25 North Walls. Being as my house carries a number on the door that is not 25, and also happens to have a street name sign on the wall as well (which, as you may have guessed, does not say “North Walls”), you do have to wonder if anyone these days has any intelligence. Well, maybe that particular bloke doesn’t have any – it isn’t fair to brandish the whole of society as thick just because of one bloke.
But then again, who’s going to stop me…?

Tiredness update: I’ve just realised that I’ll be robbed of an hour’s sleep this weekend as British Summer Time begins. guh.

All of a sudden, I feel very tired.
Anyone got any energy boosting ideas?

Dudley Moore, RIP.