Hmm. Did you know there's such a thing as canal water skiing? Apparently there's going to be a display at the Canal Festival this weekend, between Aristotle Lane and Hythe Bridge. Anyone else thinking, blimey, that's a bit narrow?
Alternative suggestion for Sunday: "Come and find out more about chickens at the annual show of the South Oxon Poultry Club." Or not. Though I've been thinking a lot about chickens recently, as it's my only point of connection with Big Brother.
The following weekend's entertainment is obvious: the self-explanatory hobbyhorsefest.has.it. I expect Rowland will be there, eh dotty?
Then, of course, there are the latest attempts to find a contemporary, practical use for Oxfordshire's quarries. I don't think I'll be able to get my sh*t together in time to see the 18ft dinosaur tonight, though, *sigh*. Maybe the 15ft Sandman in a fortnight's time. (There's a picture, if you follow the link, but don't expect glamorous goth boys!)
I bought some white hair dye, on the ground that it's the one colour that won't run when worn to Glastonbury (I wore purple one year, and it was rapidly a sorry sight). Was that smart or dumb?
Oxford was full of traditional dancers at lunchtime. It mixed strangely (but not in a bad way) with Midfield General. The flower seller said something to me but my head was too full of swirling skirts and giant robots. I should buy some flowers from him to say sorry.