This morning as I walked through Bonn Square on my way to work, a fat pigeon holding a twig tottered out of the only bit of green remaining there (a twist of brambles and weeds), unsteadily took off and flew over to their nesting place under the eaves of the Westgate Centre pergola.

I decided not to join a gym, and instead spend money on beer, compounded my error by drinking deep and dark two nights out of a weekend of three, and in my defence can only say; some of us were not born to be fit.

More people should see what marstokyo has been doing to bad little pigs.

Those who like Damian or Cassie should visit toycamera, those who like butterflies and christmas lights might prefer sky_fits_heaven.

On the way home on the bus I fetched up sat opposite my muse and finished the script for Track 2 (following on from last week's strip -- it's a four-track EP with a working title I hate), bless his blue eyes. Well, I upgraded him to muse after that, anyway; previously he'd just been a guy whose hair I liked (good highlights).