- Everything went to plan yesterday, and we stayed up until nearly 1 playing 'Guitar Hero: World Tour' last night. It is fun, which is just as fucking well, because given the enormous expense of the game itself and the fact that we basically bought the Wii just so we could play it, it must represent the most money we've spent on a single fun thing ever (excluding holidays). Honestly, unless and until Activision send out free groupie peripherals, I'm not going to feel that this was a bargain. Nevertheless, it really is ridiculously good fun poncing about with a plastic guitar while my best beloved whales on rubber drums like we're the Fisher Price White Stripes. Which I suddenly realise should be the name of our band...
- tinyjo is ill again. She's got another cold (or possibly her previous one was playing dead until she let her guard down), which means that she sleeps poorly, which means that I sleep poorly, which means that I'm tired. I realise that now she's a teacher she's going to catch every cold going until her immune system steps up and starts doing its damn job, at which point, given the amount of practice it'll have, she'll be able to make it through the Great Bird-Flu Scourge of 2010 without missing a day of school. Until that happy day, though, I guess we're both going to have get used to it. I can't even feel sorry for myself, because she's obviously feeling much worse. Bah. The poor thing.
- It's the Oxfam Bookshop's 21st birthday, which featured a birthday lunch at the shop today, with local authors and the mayor as guests. When I rolled up for my afternoon shift the VIPs had gone, but there was still some champagne left over. Obviously, it would have been a violation of Oxfam's principles to let that go to waste. So, what with a couple of mugs of bubbly on top of the glass of wine with which I washed down lunch, followed by the traditional post-Oxfam pint with mr_snips and sea_bright and a glass or two of red with this evening's meal, I've been a little addled nearly all day, and sitting down and trying to write coherently is throwing this into sharp relief.
So, bed beckons, not least because tinyjo's immune system only works if she's being hugged, allegedly. Good night.