Bristol, Brown and Badministration
We travelled down to blustery Bristol over the weekend to re-crystallise my memory of its layout. Oh, and to visit a couple of couples that I know down there, some very good friends from University and beyond, and their recently-spawned offspring. Bristol was as lovely as ever, as were assorted Cooks and Thains. Unexpected downside: I've spotted traces of Bristolian infiltrating my unique Brummie-Londoner drawl again, making me sound even more freakish. Unexpected upside (your head): Slightly belated (10 months late) birthday CD's (Propellerheads' Decksandrumsandrockandroll, Leftfield's Rhythm and stealth, Supergrass' I Should Coco - cheers, Thain.)
And then, later last night, Derren Brown put the gun to his own head for his televised game of Russian Roulette, cranked up the tension, and left a quivering mess of terrified Starbuck, hardly able to watch. He wasn't the only one wearing Brown trousers last night.
And the new job? Not as good as being on the internet all day...