Just a normal Saturday. Took James swimming this morning, first lesson after half-term. Sarah and I were having a good moan about his teacher until the lady sitting next to us said the teacher is her best friend, isn't miserable, does like kids against all the evidence. Oops. We went into town (Gloucester), were enticed into Starbucks by a dark cherry mocha, met one of James's real teachers who was lovely and gave him a hug or two. While the womenfolk went clothes shopping James and I hit Waterstones and WH Smith, where I read loads of Grant Morrison's The Filth, trippy maaaan. Rest of the day was even less eventful. It chucked it down with rain in the evening but some local diehard lunatics were still out, letting off the last of their fireworks. We're British, it doesn't matter if we all get hypothermia and frostbite, we will have fun, godammit!
Endblog 2. ( A surprisingly high use of italics this time. )
Soundtrack: Purple Rain, Prince & The Revolution
Sam's Town, The Killers
'There was, of course, a catch. "Catch-22?" inquired Yossarian.'
The Glass Walking-Stick
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