September 25th, 2003

end of a decade

back I guess, more or less

Flying to Glasgow beats the hell out of the sleeper. It was maybe even a little bit cheaper. Oh I've just been off to the Isle of Mull, it's scenic and wee, full of sheep and dull ... oh, that's unfair. It's true that the Sound of Mull is a different colour every time you look at it, which is a neat trick, and the rocks are great, and there's a fabulous decayed Victorian country estate (which had been improved by some rather surreal transparent signs since I was last there), but I could feel my potential fun quotient contracting daily. What's there to do? Look at the mountain, look at the sea, get drunk, watch TV.

Or, in our case, play endless semi-cooperative games of scrabble and Mah-jongg, fiddle with slide-shows on Damian's i-book (more on this later), and walk. Well, walk the dogs, to be accurate. Boy, did we walk the dogs. Walk walk walk.

Bah. Onto important news! Christian Bale is to be the next Batman! Oh-ho! I supposes someone saw him in Equilibrium and thought, nice, but what he really needs is full-body latex ...

And a quick scout of my friend's list reveals that I write realistic sex scenes (oh yeah give me realistic detail baby), that my mood ring is currently showing "worn out" (fair enough) and that I'm almost certainly male (hey!), among other more personal news. Allow me to offer my congratulations/commiserations/surprise/pleasure/amusement/shock as appropriate. You know who you are.

Yeah, back.
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