Troublegum

I had a listen to some Therapy? this week. I loved them when I was
15. All those shouty songs about being a total loner and wanting to
stab people to death. Perfect for a teenager who thinks that growing
your hair long and dressing like a bin-man marks you out as an
individual, as opposed to just a knob. They nearly won the Mercury
Music Prize, but lost out to M People in the end. I think they're
stil touring.

On a similar note, I had my first physiotherapy session this week (See
how I did that? Classy. Smoother than a bag
of gravel;, and more subtle than Abi
Titmuss).

I never thought it would be the case, but physiotherapy is fun! To
correct for my kneecaps bing in the wrong place and my feet being
funny-shaped I have to do the following exercises:

The Slow Policeman: This involves standing with my feet pointing
forwards (actually quite difficult for me) and bending my knees with
my back straight and holding it. Kind of like doing that 'ello ello
ello' thing that policemen don't ever do, but in slow motion.

Toe push-ups: Feet flat on floor, curl middle of foot up whilst
pushing down on toes. Apparently doesn't count if I use rock-boots
for this.

The Flamingo: Pretty much as you'd expect - standing about on one
leg. I like doing this whilst on the phone at work.

OK, so the exercises are actually pretty dull, but I only have to do
them for a week and then I move on to more advanced ones. Here's
hoping that in a few weeks time I'll have to do spinning handstands
whilst juggling a medicine ball with my feet. Who knows? Maybe after
all of this my knees will be slightly less knobbly, thus reducing my
chances of winning a free bottle of Asti Spumanti at Butlins.

Look!

More pictures on my fotopic site .

Peek-a-boo

Hidden tracks. What exactly is the point?

I imagine that the intention is to make the listener feel special, and
maybe create a sense of anticipation. Like I'm delving into the
unknown to touch upon a special creation that nobody else will
experience, because they don't have what it takes to be a proper fan
and wait seven-and-a-half minutes to hear this mind-blowingly
inventive compostion.

In reality, though, I just fast forward the blank bit to find some
2-minute bum gasp written by the drummer. Or in the case of Ash's
1977, the sound of someone violently emptying their stomach in public.
In some cases, I'll forget that the album's still running and
promptly fill my breeks when the unexpected racket starts up.

In the odd rare case that the track is any good, just put it on the
album properly. Nobody's fooled that putting a good song somewhere
awkward makes for a better listening experience. If they do then they
probably shouldn't be allowed a stereo in case they try and breed with
it or something.

Otherwise, just put the bloody song on a b-side, or your website or a
large pyre. Or give it to someone wank like Embrace to put on their
album, thus preventing me from having to listen to it at all.

Close Encounters

The fax machine (remember them? Like email from the 80's) is making
some mighty strange noises at me today.

Maybe it's some sort of extra-terrestrial being trying to contact me,
and if I can just decypher the code I could understand the message of
universal love, and cure all of mankind's ailments.

Or maybe I just need a more interesting job.

Dreich

One of my favourite Scottish words.

Means 'It's mincing it down outside'.

Which, of course, it is right now.

Choonz

Distinct lack of musical ranting here of late, so here's some recent
boat-floaters:

Gorillaz - Demon Days:
I hate you Albarn. I thougth I had it all figured out. The speccy
one was the good one in Blur, and you were responsible for the rubbish
bits, as evidenced by 'Think Tank' (load of arsewater) vs 'Happiness
in Magazines' (really quite good). But now you've released this and
it's brilliant. At least I can pretend it was made by a bunch of
drawings instead. Christ, I even like the song with Shaun Ryder on
it, it must be good (or I have contracted some form of mentalism).

The Chemical Brothers - Push the Button:
Hooray. the Chemicals are back on form. And they're using
glockenspiels on some of their tracks. Rejoice!

Bloc Party - Silent Alarm:
I'm not entirely sure why I love this album so much. Maybe it's
because it sounds like the drummer really needs a pee so he plays
everythign at full speed all the way through the album. Maybe it's
the slightly melodramatic lyrics. It could be the 'Pixies mixed with
Explosions in the Sky' guitars. Most likely though, it's the
occasional use of glockenspiel that does it.

The Magic Numbers - The Magic Numbers
Mmmmm. There's just something so warm and comforting about this
album. Kind of like a nice bowl of soup. But without the bit where
you burn your mouth on it, or accidentally drop your bread in it. The
sort of mushy sentimental stuff I don't want to admit I like. With
added glockenspiel.

The Prague Glockenspiel Orchestra - Greatest Hits Vol. 2
OK. I made this one up, but I'd probably like it if if did exist.

Centurion

Scotland can be a tough place to be a climber in the summer time. The
weather is often indistinguishable form that of an English winter,
with the rock often dripping wet and unclimbable. And then when the
rain and wind stop, out come Culicoides halophilus - the Highland
Midge.

Millions of these minute vampires swarm around the Highlands with no
respect for your personal space, trying their best to drain you with
blood. If you've never experienced these evil little bastards then
you may well think that I'm whining about nothing, but they are an
utter menace, and would test the goodwill of even the most Zen monk.

But then there are some days that will make you forget about all of
those times you've had to hide under a boulder from the rainclouds or
endure a zillion minute insects all trying to invade your nose, and
Saturday was one of them.

It was the first time I'd been to Ben Nevis in the summer, and the
weather had given us blue skies and brilliant sunshine. The cold,
dark slog I was used to taking up the Ben was replaced with something
far more bright and sunny (still a bit of a slog, though).

Today's objective was the classic rock-climb 'Centurion'. Taking a
steep line through some impressive rock, even looking at it from the
ground was awe-inspiring. Jo and I had been wanting to do this route
for quite some time, and I felt a bit intimidated as it loomed above
me.

The climbing itself was perfect. For over 200 metres the route never
once relented, each pitch exciting enough to be considered a classic
in its own right. Once you're on the route there's no easy escape,
adding more to the excitement and making the whole undertaking more
serious. Each movement required thought and finesse, every moment a
joy.

All those days couped up inside watching the sky collapse fade were
worth the wait, and every midge bite no more than a passing nuisance.
Days like that are what keeps us coming back, but unlike the drug
addict trying to re-capture that first perfect high, we come across
those days again and again, and never grow weary of them.

Yeah. Scotland's great.

Settings and things

hello mofos

This post is actually just to test that I've got my automatic
publishing thing set up properly.

If you're reading this then it is. If you're not reading it then
there's some sort of crazy telepathic shiznit going on and you should
market your talents. I want 10% of the cut for coming up with the
idea, mind.

Right. Off to Ben Nevis for the weekend. Bye!

Da Bomb

Well done to the second round of cowardly terrorists.

Through your incompetence you’ve outlined the utter pointlessness of your endeavours.

Clearly these people didn’t have Lego as kids.

Internet cafes suck.

I tried to write a post last night in the internet café but was distracted by there being lots of people on MSN, and the bloke next to me was looking at some utterly filthy pictures which kind of derails any train of thought. It was probably going to be about how great it is cycling around Edinburgh or something equally as smug.

I did, however manage to achieve a few things: I updated the links on the side bar, and I set up a thing where I can email blog posts in from anywhere I want. Yes, that’s right, I can now blog from work, which may mean a bit more posting round these parts. Most of it, as always, will be drivel (and if you don’t like it you can sod off and look at your loser schoolmates on friends reunited or something).

Bah!

Well, I *did* actually write a long post, but due to the ergonomic wonder of a power button right next to the return key it was unfortunately lost to the ether. Let us mourn its passing.

I'm not going to type it all out again, but I shall give you a synopsis and leavce it up to you to use your imagination to flesh it out with erudite wit and so on. It covered the folowing topics:

Make Povert History march & Edinburgh 'Riots' - Former was good fun, latter was laughable and pointless.

Me turning 25 - not as bad as I expected.

London Olympics - Should be fun. Hope the tickes aren't too expensive.

London Bombings - What exactly did that achieve now? Who benefitted? Nobody. What bawbags.

My Sister's Blog - it's genetic, innit? Very good blog from my older sibling.

Loch Avon Basin - A very nice bit of the cairngorms. Piccies may well folow eventually.

Right, back to the here and now. Man.

This week I have been mostly... Moving house. The landlord of my old place has decided that no more non-students can live there so we've all been forced to flee. The downside is that I no longer live in a flat where the stairwell looks like a victorian public baths (but in a good way) and no onger live nearby to hte best greengrocers in the world (four of them in one street, to be precise). The upside is that my rent is now much cheaper as the flat I'm in is being refurbished. This also means I get to help transform it from a badly decorated hole into a respectable pad. I'm also forced to live with minimal things in my room (easier to move around, etc) which is surprisingly satisfying. Especially seeing all of my CDs lined up on the floor against the wall.

I've also been enjoying the wonders of the blender this week. My wonderful big sis sent me a hand blender for my birthday and I just have to say what a wonderful improvement on my life it really is. (Actually there was one in my old flat and I used it all the time, but it wasn't mine and a couple of weeks without it made me appreciate it more, so just humour me). I've become one of those people who religiously drinks fruit smoothies. Bit of orange&mango juice, some cranberry juice, a banana and some kiwi fruit and I'm happyhappyhappy.

Thing is, you see, I can be really quite lazy when it comes to food. I tend to like having all the things I need in one quick fix so actually sitting and eating my five-a-day was quite a rarity. But with the blender - zooooosh - all vegetable matter is pulverised into one easy-to-chug portion. My skin's improved, I have more energy and the local hookers say that my sperm tastes better than ever (I made that last bit up). I also get to benefit from the sense of moral superiority that one gets from eating properly. Waht with that, riding my bike to work and recycling thingsit's a wonder I don't damage my neck looking down on all you mere mortals.

Tremble at my might.

I have returned...

Sorry little blog. I have locked you in the dark for too long. But no more will this pointless little corner of cyberspace remain untended. I hope.

So, I suppose I should have a quick summary, before lapsing back into the usual old ramblings that you're used to.

The wonderful world of temping still occupies my days and feebly fuels the financial hole that I call a bank account. Whgilst many would feel frustration in not moving toward an eventual goal, I'm actually reasonably happy at the moment (if often somewhat bored). Stress-free living is good.

Last weekend saw me running in the Lowe Alpine Mountain Marathon which was on the misty isle of Mull. I imagine it's a wonderful place, but dense clouds kind of ruined the view by reducing visibility down to about 20m. Still managed to have lots of fun despite having to retire on day 2 due to poorly knees. Actually, describing a mountain marathon as 'fun' is like calling this blog 'funny' - i.e. only the truly misguided would do so.

There has also been much climbing, photos of which will eventually appear on
my photo site so that you can all cringe at my photography.

More musings on the joys of turning 25 and also moving house. Bye!

Yes

Well, my lack of sensible internetting at work is somewhat impeding the blog.

I'm still having 'time out' with my useless temping job. And spending far too much time and money in pursuit of vertical silliness.

A quick shout out to Amoxycillin for healing my face.

And listen to the new Four Tet album, 'Everything Ecstatic'. Go on. I dares ya.

All Y'all is Jiiive Suckas

Yes, I am still alive, despite the worst effects of a combination of uncooked chicken and a vertical icefall.

Climbing is good for you, but not when combined with vomiting and diahorrea.

It's been a long time...

...Since I le le le left you
So here's a dope beat to step to.

Enough of that silliness.

Well, what with one thing and another I've been a bit of an absentee from the blog of late, despite many things happening. Here is the rundown:

1) My masters didn't work out because there wasn't enough material for them to give me a degree. Bit narked that I wasted so much time writing it, but other than that not too pissed off.

2) I have a temp job at the Scottish Executive. Oh yes, I am working for the government, and really quite enjoying it. I'm the lowest-grade office monkey in a fairly obscure department, but it's pretty stress-free, and I do get to do interesting stuff occasionally. I get free internet access, but unfortunaltely, the web-handholding robot thing doesn't like blogger. Oh and it blocks any emails sent to me with swearing in (particulary useful when all your mates are low-grade tourettes sufferers). I wear a suit and tie at work (this week offset by some sandals due to massive foot blisterage). BE frightened.

3) I've been climbing a LOT. Highlights include a pre-xmas ascent climb on Beinn Eighe in Torridon, some awesome weather in Glen Coe, a bit of mysteriously-hidden ice-boshing on Aonach Mor (hooray for the cable car) and a slushy near-epic in Lochnagar. I may have said it before many times, but I must say it again: SCOTLAND IS AMAZING and all you poor suckers who live in England are fools. Example? I saw the Aurora Borealis the last time I went to Glen Coe. Go on, try not to be jealous.

4) Good things I have cosnumed recently: the LCD soundsystem album, Charlie Brookers Screen Burn, an awesome Delgados gig, Peep Show on Channel 4, strawberry Alpen bars, gin, Five (or more) Portions of Fruit and Veg Per Day, the new Sage Francis album, Catch 22, SuperFeet (£30 for a pair of shoe insoles? And worth it? YES!), and the Buffalo XPD hood. The nice Hare Krishna lady I spoke to in the street seems to think that you don't need things in your life to be happy, but she clearly hasn't experienced any of the above.

Anyway, Stelios is about to evict me with a big orange 'Fuck off' sign if I don't pay for more internet time so I must leave you.

Glen Coe beckons again...

Ice Ice Baby

Winter is by far the bestest season ever. I mean summer's great with the long days and occasional sunshine, but it doesn't have the allure of winter.

So there's the downsides of winter. The days are short and everybody gets all crabby as a result. There's christmas, which is good because I get to see my family and take a bit of a break, but all of that comes at the expense of being bombarded with shite xmas music, ugly decorations and fearsome consumerism. And there's the flu and all that, which loves to take advantage of my pathetic immune system to make me sound like a terrorist on the phone for the best part of the season.

BUT...

There's those great days where there isnt a cloud in the sky, the ground is frosty, and the brass monkeys become eunuchs. Although rare, there's nothing like the incredible feeling the first rays of sunshine you've seen in weeks give you. And there's usually an ace skiddin run somewhere set up by excited schoolkids, oblivious to their granny-breaking potential.

And there's snow.

I'm told sometimes I act rather childlike when I'm happy. When I'm in the snow, I fully digress to being about 9 years old. Except now I'm old enough to go sledging at midnight, when the snow on Arthur's Seat is at its best. It's impossible to describe the sheer joy that something as simple as a few ice crystals on the ground brings me, but if you ever see me frolicking like a fool through the snow then you'll understand.

But the very best thing about winter involves what I've mentioned above, mixed with one of my other most favourite things: Mountains.

Mountains in the winter just look right. Whilst Scotland's hills are dramatic at every time of the year, once they become snow-topped they take on a whole new type of beauty. They seem so much more severe, more foreboding. And in the late afternoon sun they look like they glow from within.

Walking up a mountian in Scotland in the winter is also infinitely more fun than in summer. No midges for a start. But as well as the amazing views, you get the fun of strapping crampons to your feet and weilding a quite frankly menacing ice axe. Just to go for a walk. There's also amazing ice-structures and winter wildlife to be seen. I rarely go hillwalking anymore, but in winter I can barely resist.

Even better than that though is winter climbing. Winter climbing in Scoltand is at once the most and least fun thing a mountaineer can do. There's standing at a belay for hours hopping from foot to foot as you're showered with powder snow and ice. There's being buffeted with ice-filed winds as you teeter gently on your crampon points, several meters above your last protection. There's hot aches in your fingers, burning in your calves and icicles hanging from your nose. There's hypothermia (which is even less fun than it sounds). But none of it matters when you sink your axe into a perfect piece of ice or frozen turf. Or when you're near the top of the route slamming your front-points into perfect neve snow. Or when you get to the top and slip into your down jacket, instantly becoming impervious to the freezing temperatures and brutal winds.

Yeah. Winter's magic. Bring it on.

20 random tunes from winamp

To alleviate some boredom I've decided to do one of these 20 random tune things with the meagre collection of mp3's on my work computer:

The White Stripes - Aluminum: Bad American spelling notwithstanding, it's quite a nice little number. Just a crunching riff and someone going 'waaaaaaah' for a couple of minutes. The closest thing the stripes do to album filler I suppose.

Pixies - I've Been Tired: Black Francis telling a story about shocking a wooly hippie type by expressing a fear of sexually transmitted disease from prostitutes. And then Screaming 'I've been tired' a few times. One of the reasons why 'Come on Pilgrim' is ace.

Laeto - Bad Taste Party: Fuck off Laeto, you sound like Guns N Roses, only dull.

I Am Kloot - Morning Rain: One of the Wirral's best kept sectrets, the Kloot were originally bandied about with the 'New Acoustic Movement', despite being a million miles away from the twee stoners who embodied that 'scene'. God knows what most of these lyrics are about, but they sound great, and with fantastic melodies. One of my favourite albums to put on to sing along to in the kitchen.

Buck 65 - Square Three: One quarter of Buck's incredible 'Square' album, this is seventeen minutes of superb hip-hop. This sounds like no other artist you care to think of. His unique take on the world - old fashioned, romantic and quite frankly bizzare - is rapped eloquently over some equally unique beats. I will be sure to post a more detalied rant about how great his music is in the future. This square contains 'Stella', a song about the tragic life of an ordinary girl, which will fail to touch only the most barren of souls.

Minotaur Shock - Local Violin Shop: Yay! Some genius Bristolian electronica, with my two favourite instruments: drums and glockenspiel (apparently played by some sort of mentalist). Also, Minotaur Shock is a cool name, and the tune doesn't have any violins in it. Yeehaa.

Fog - Pneumonia (Coldcut Remix): Plinky-plonky-plink go some violins (being plucked) thumpy-doofy-thump go some drums while some bloke sings something that's more depressing than the music suggests. Has the singular ability to make me sing the line that goes 'I am a venetian blind' for days without knowing why.

The Delgados - I Fought the Angels: The opener from their stunning new album 'Universal Audio'. Shows the band's previous LP 'Hate' up as the self-indulgent misery-fest that it was. One of those songs that restore your faith in music.

Hexstatic - Auto: It's a pretty cool idea - sample some automotive type sounds and craft them into a track. Bit dull in practice though.

Sage Francis - Crack Pipes: Another of the great avant-garde hip-hoppers on the Anticon records label. It's not exactly a party tune, what with it being about addiction and all, but it manages to do the 'hip-hop with a heart' thing witout condescending. I will certainly be cheking out more of his stuff in the future.

The Rapture - Olio: I don't like The Cure. I don't like house music. This sounds like The Cure doing house music. I love it.

At the Drive-In - Rolodex Propaganda: AtD-I's 'Relationship of Command' showed that it was possible to have a major label deal and a big-name producer and still make hardcore punk that you could use to sandblast buildings with. Should have been as big as Nirvana if they hadn't imploded under the pressure. Right before I was supposed to see them in concert too, the buggers.

PJ Harvey - This Mess We're In: Yay, two of the best voices in modern music (Peej herself and Thom Yorke) singing a beautifully melancholy song about a complicated break-up. In New York to make it more romantic.

Jim O'Rourke - Mentalist record producer makes grand statement of a record. The cover has a picture of Jim's head on a baby being fellated by a toy rabit. The album's alrght but this tune is a bit crap.

Snow Parol - Run: You've probably heard The 'Patrol's breakthrough single. It's ace and proves why they deserve to sell a squillion records.

Actually, I cant be arsed to to a whole 20, as its time to go to another (!) bouldering competition. It's all a bit indie-boy and predicatable I know (I do listen to pop music and stuff as well, honest) but hey, why should I apologise for my music taste anyway?

A Quick Jog in Wales.

I can only see for 5 metres in every direction. I've just dragged myself and a rucksack up severall hundres metres of damp, grassy slope. We're searching for the next checkpoint, but I can hardly see Gaz, let alone a 2ft tall metal stand. "It's all gone tits up cos of t'weather" we joke, echoing yesterday's parking attendant. The sound of chatting voices piercing the fog, and signalling the nearby checkpoint is welcomed with unbridalled glee.

Hours earlier Gaz and I were stood at the startline of the KIMM, our rucksacks laden with our supplies for the race and our guts full of anticipation. Neither of us were aware of what lay ahead, other than fifty kilometres, a few hills and lots and lots of mud. We'd entered almost on a whim, and had been unexpectedly moved from the 'C' class (well within my abilities) to the 'B' class (at the stretch of my abilities). The months of nerves, anticiaption and even some training had led to this point - it was time to see what we were capable of.

Hahaaaaaa! Whooooooo! I'm barrelling down the valley, only just in control of my legs. The other competitors can see on our faces that these moments are the very reason we're in this event and gladly let us pass. The fog has started to clear, revealing the bleak rolling vistas of the Brecon Beacons. What the? ***CRUNCH*** A moments lack of concentration and I'm over on my knee. "It hurt a bit but it's OK" I reassure Gaz as we press on, convinced that the pain will pass.

In the evening, as I nestled in my sleeping bag I was wondering what on earth motivated me to actually see this event through. Surely only a burning desire to empathise with World War One veterans or a deep-seated mental illness could make you actually pay for the privellage of doing this. My deeply unsatisfying dinner of couscous with sewage-flavoured soup was battling away with several hundred grams of marzipan in my stomach. I was sure my feet would never be warm or dry again.

This is supposed to be the easy track at the beginning, but it appears we're destined to start day two trudging through what appears to be cow slurry. Passing the first checkpoint we start uphill and I can feel stabbing in my left knee. We're going to have to take it easy today to stand a chance of finishing without further injury.

On an event such as this, the course is vaguely pre-described but it's up to the competitors to find the best route between checkpoints. Experienced runners will choose a route that balances good terrain with short distance, whereas the uninitiated (like myself and Gaz) will choose a route almost entirely at random and spend much time hurdling heather tufts or yomping up unnecessary hills. There are times when we were entirely at the organisers' mercy. The organisers are clearly bastards. Well, they're fond of the odd river crossing at any rate.

It's OK. I'm running now, and after the inital pain I'm starting to feel good. We can make some good time along this ground. The big hill climb of the day is out of the way and the rest of the course looks pretty fast. We won't be making the same navigational mistakes we made yesterday either. Suddenly my vision is white as agony shoots through my knee. I nearly vomit with pain as Gaz helps me to my feet. "Are you OK to go on?" he asks. It takes all my willpower to dismiss the chance to quit and start limping towards the next checkpoint.

Now, I'm known to use some of the more colourful phrases in the English language from time-to-time, but my usual foul language is nothing compared to the torrent of filth running through my head every time my foot came down. The final ascent of the day passed in a haze of expletives and ibuprofen. I knew salvation lay beyond the top of the hill.

Endorphins. They come and go in waves, with spikes of agony in between. Just concentrate on not falling again. The world constists only of the track down to the finish, which flies beneath me faster than I can register. The grimace on my face is part pain and part elation as we storm past the cautious and the limping. Gaz keeps shouting me on. I know we're nearly there. The yellow 'Finish' marker looks more welcoming than any bed I've seen. We cross the line in total elation. We've done it.

So today I'm sitting here with blisters on my feet, sores on my back and a knee that barely bends. I finally arrived home at 2.30 this morning after a minibus journey that cannot be described without usin the words 'epic' and 'numbness'. My bedroom is strewn with muddy, fetid clothing. And I'm already looking forward to doing it next year.

John Peel 1939-2004

What can I say about the man, except to echo what's already been said?

So many memories of his Radio 1 show, like when I was working as a night cleaner in a food-packing factory listening to peelie on a radio that I had to smuggle in underneath my overalls. The best breakfast show I've ever heard. Or listening to his show with my housemates and writing the amusing quotes on our 'Wall of Peel'.

Night after night he brought the nation the most incredible mix of music ever broadcast. I remember the first time I listened to the show in 1997, hearing Mogwai in session, just as they were starting to take off. My days of blinkeredly listening to awful grunge and heavy metal were over, and a whole vista of sounds opened up to me. Music became an obsession, and now there's barely a waking moment that I'm not listening to music in some way.

Lazy Saturday mornings, 'Home Truths' on in the background whilst doing the crossword. An incredible social documentary lasting over years, and presented with so much warmth and hoesty as to feel like a weekly family update from a well-loved uncle.

Cheers Mr Peel. You genuinely made the world a better place.

And can I have some f the records you left behind please?

All quiet...

Gosh, it's been a long time since I did any blogging. Is it because I've been too busy? Well, I should have been, but to be honest, I've spent the last couple of weeks just dicking about.

So anyway, I came into University today so I could use the computer to prepare for a job interview. It struck me how many cars are in the car park. I mean, the weather's a bit crap this weekend BUT IT'S SATURDAY FOR FUCK'S SAKE. Don't any of these people have lives? Shouldn't they be at home doing DIY, visiting their parents, being with their kids, hanging out with friends or just, I dunno shopping for socks? I can almost hear you calling me a hypocrite - 'Aren't you blogging from your computer at work ON A SATURDAY?' Well, yes I am, but the reason I'm here is because I need to get out of this crazy WORK=LIFE culture as soon as possible, and for that I need a job. The reason I mention it is the realisation that soon I will no longer be part of this makes me very happy indeed.

Oh, and this morning I found out that my entry to the KIMM has been accepted. So there's no backing out from it now. I'm both very excited and utterly terrified. Oh, and I bought a pair of Ron Hills for the event too. Feel free, nay obliged, to mock me in a highly sustained manner if you ever see me wearing them.

I'd also like to say that the Alien Rock bouldering comp was ace (and I did far better than anticipated). And the new Delgados album is excellent in a million different ways. And if you haven't taken my previous advice and started listening to Explosions in the Sky, then you are a fool and your life will never be complete.