Half a percent

On the 23rd I did some shopping. On the 24th I did too. On the 25th I had a long lie in( Read more... )

On the Tuesday (the 27th) I went over to Ayr for a bit of scattering.( Read more... )

Mulled wine at Hybrasil on the 30th went very well, and the (Marks and Sparks?) mulled white wine I've had knocking about for a while was quite nice. As were various other things.

The Hogmanay party went well. People started turning up in the late evening and kept tturning up until after 2. Well after 2. I crashed at six, and everyone was gone when I got up again at about 12 - circumstantial evidence indicated 9 or ten as a possible end point. Very fine. People were relaxed, charming and fascinating - thank you to you all for coming along. I may well do the same next year, if people are at all interested.

IMPORTANT - I know whose the Jägermeister is, and you'll be getting it back, but whose is the bottle of Malt? You'd better claim it, or it'll get added to the general stocks and you'll never see it again.

The last couple of weeks have been fairly quiet, really. Nice, though. batswing is leaving, and has nearly all her stuff out already, so it's officially just me and the cat (anyone want a cat?) at the moment. I've been going to see Ed every couple of days, and he seems much improved since before christmas, although there's much agitating going on over diverse matters.

No leads on jobs yet. Something'll crop up sooner or later, I'm sure. I should probably try to make some impact on the bathroom floor, though. And think about the windows.

I have made it to not one but two installments of Bitch, though, which I feel a nice warm glow about. They were both very good, too, and on Saturday last they played Hymn, one of the Ultravox songs that nobody every plays (pretty much anything apart from Vienna, that is). I coughed like a bastard for much of the night (I've had a cold) which probably serves me right for running up the long stairs from the bottom of Cockburn Street up the the High Street and then walking straight into a smoky room. I'd been having a couple of pints with Kate and Glen - and, as a nice bonus, Angie. I hadn't seen her in years, and I now have her phone number, and have met her husband, who seems very worthwhile.

The earlier Bitch was at the Citrus, and was also fine. While leaving, I got tapped on the shoulder as I passed the cloakroom. A bloke - well, a goth - asked me if I was from Ayr. Now, that's the sort of question that always makes me nervous in case it's followed by "I have a complete collection of your primary school creative writing essays and I'm going to publish them online", but in this case it was about whether I bought records at Trash, a rather good record shop I used to haunt in the mid to late Eighties. It closed about fifteen years ago. He used to work there, and remembers me buying Cramps records. I was, and am, faintly staggered.

Incidentally, I seem to be justified (yeah, the car's crap, I admit it) by a margin of 26 to 20. Furthermore, I now know who my real friends are.