When I'm in this office, earning a meagre crust to prop up the 4 days a week when I'm not here, I have an absurd method of posting entries on LJ which involves keeping the browser window minimized with the thing I'm meant to be working on in full view, and the text I'm typing completely out of sight. So, I hope any spelling errors will be excused on account of me not being able to see what on earth I'm doing.

I felt like death last night. Spent a horrible hour lugging my bass guitar around the tube network. I will now lapse into musical jargon: The case for my bass is a Rickenbacker hard case. It's very big. The bass inside it is an Ibanez medium scale bass. Which is very small. This mismatch of item and container used to transport it is comparable to taking a DVD round to a friend's house in a mahogany wardrobe. The size of the case means I'm continually baning the f*cking thing into people's shins, and I spend a lot of time imagining a scenario where someone complains about the fact that I'm carrying it, and I scream at them at a blood-curdling pitch how if they don't like it they should get a taxi. I then hit them, and then they hit me, and then everyone starts hitting each other.

Spent 3 tired hours teaching Sally Crewe basslines to Laura, who is taking over bass duties when I leave that promising young outift in a couple of months. Felt so grotty that every time I opened my mouth to sing a perfectly tailored backing vocal, I just yawned an extended, helpless yawn. Sally very kindly gave me a lift home afterwards. By this time I was aching and tired, and sat watching a programme about what an awful man Henry Kissinger was, while feeling increasingly awful myself. Went to bed convinced I would wake up sneezing and shivering.

I didn't. I feel great. Isn't sleep amazing?

Now off to listen to The Smiths again and ponder further on how my life is slipping away. As opposed to 20 years ago when I would listen to The Smiths and wish my life was slipping away. (Not really.)