Well, there was bmovie on Friday. That was good. I woke up in pain, which means I don’t need to feel guilty about missing the gym.

Then there was coffee on Saturday, or rather, a pitcher of “Woo-woo”. I am never ordering that again, no matter how many people want it. I’m used to barmen looking at me with expressions ranging from confusion to mild amusement, but not to having them laugh scornfully at me when I order drinks. I don’t think I like it. And after coffee, there was Colchester, to see The Last Dance and Bella Morte, who were both cracking, so thanks to marysiak for persuading me to go, and pixylatedpixie to driving us there and back, and providing us with somewhere to sleep before heading home at a more civilised hour of the morning.

Have resolved that I really must get around to seeing Devilish Presley live, too. Probably at one of their Shoreditch gigs over the summer, unless they play somewhere a bit more central. I have prejudices about the end of town, you see…

Shortly, I am off to the parental home for Sunday dinner. Unless I fall asleep first.