Sex is Boring.

Sunday involved running around and catching buses. I took the car out to Sawston for its MoT, first thing - with a pause outside the garage to fit the door mirror assembly I got from the scrappie. Then I got a bus back into town. Handily it pulled up at a stop just in front of me and didn't pull off before I reached it - they're half-hourly, so that was quite fortunate. I read the paper and messed about untill three, when I called back and found it had passed. I went out to the Addenbrooke's bus stop and waited for an hour for a bus (having apparently missed the one before by a minute or two, after checking the timetable before I left) to get back out to pick it up.

After that, into London for swisstone's birthday drink, with his strange friends.

Sunday was quiet. Monday likewise. yesterday I went to the local rock night to drop off some flyers for the Killing Miranda gig we're having. I stayed for a couple of hours to chat to people, then had a relatively early night in preparation for today's marathon trip to Sheffield and back. Should be fun.

Yesterday, though, the important thing happened : the new Ballboy album arrived. And highly excellent it is, too, if you like wimpy indie bands with weird senses of humour.

Take me back to your room
tie me up and strip me naked
and lie me on your floor

And you'll see that sex is boring with me
it's not what I came here for . . .

Right. Three hours more work, three hours of driving, two or three hours in Sheffield hopefully including a Half Man Half Biscuit set, then a three-hour drive back to my bed. Nice relaxing evening.