Then I got bored and headed home, via Chislehurst High Street. Half price duck in the chiller, and I couldn't resist. The girl on the check out engaged me in conversation - "what's duck taste like?", "Do you feel funny eating duck when you can see them swimming around?", "Is it for a special occasion?".
I spent the evening putting tracks on my MP3 player - an album by The Coral, Polyphonic Spree's first one, an early Pulp cd, and the Scissor Sisters.
Just gearing up to putting some Beatles on there. I was spurred on by certain fuckwitted and immature anti-beatles posturing on Urban 75 yesterday to listen to the White Album again. It sounded better than I expected, with a few stand-out tracks - Dear Prudence, Wild Honey Pie, Me and My Monkey.
I've got the cats living with me now - and on Wednesdays when my daughter is visiting her Grandmother just a few doors along from my house, I take the female cat along so they can have quality time together. Then, at about 10.00, the cat is brought home again. She's usually a bit overexcited by this time, and runs around the house making meeping noises.
When I water the plants on the balcony, the male cat mews pathetically at me:
When I try to work on my laptop - he does this:
So I take the piss out of him sometimes - here I am honouring him by photographing him with the certificate he won at a cat show once:
There was John Cale special on 6Music this morning. I've got a little bit by him, but I realise I need to get more.
I'm no longer the only cyclist in the depot. I saw some other bugger had his bike locked up in the yard the other day.
I finally gave in to the nagging and saw a doctor the other day. I'm completely healthy apparently. So if I feel shit all the time, it's my own bloody fault.