Month: August 2002

I had a dream last night. In this dream, I had pale pink pillowcases that were covered in soot. They were so dirty that my new girlfriend left in disgust.

This poses three questions:

1. what on earth was I doing with pale pink pillowcases in the flat?
2. how did soot get into my bedroom?
3. most importantly, who was the new girlfriend? I never actually saw her.

I’ve already had one learned opinion on this, but what do you think? Answers on a postcard please.

I felt the urge to go off on a political rant this morning, but I’m a bit short of time at the moment, so can’t. And, no doubt, by the time I have got time, I’ll have lost the urge.
And talking of No Doubt (what a segue!):

Who writes this crap?

Approved.

hmmm. Knobbly carrots!

ah. Things are looking up. There is some action from a quarter that had previous yielded only inaction and prevarication. This is a good thing.

This is proving to be a long day. And it’s only just gone 11.30am.
And I note that the timestamp here is *still* one hour out.

Talking of collective mismanagement, Monday hasn’t got off to a great start. Not much individual bravery either.

Collective mismanagement and individual bravery. How often have we heard this story?

Live music in W2 tonight courtesy of Herbie Mash (a.k.a. Mr Boombastic), Tommy Relish and Chip Sandpease, in fine form. Beer with Bren, Greg, Clive, Guy, Sally, Malcolm, Helen N, Cath, Mark, Aris, Kristian, Leah, Nik, Sarah, Dave, Phil, Terry and one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, with steely grey eyes and the coldest hands I have ever held. She works behind the bar in the Nags, but I don’t know her name. She really needs a pair of gloves.
Bumped into Bora on the way home.

Just uploaded another six tunes to radio grayblog – there is now nearly five hours of music. I’ll update the playlist tomorrow.