Left the weekend free so I could get on with a comic I'm working on. Failing that I was going to tidy. In fact, I had some nasty dreams, got backache, and read three slaying and shagging books, each one worse than the last. Though I did manage to watch X-Men 2 (not enough action, too much emoting, never quite lived up to the promise of the initial stunt sequence), see some friends (nice doll, funky cameras, the Temple's a nice pub still I see), spend an afternoon at the bookshop (good Dick donation, Book Festival* planning, a truly excellent Encyclopaedia of Witchcraft and Demonology) and fit a new video recorder (Silver plastic! Fuzziness gone! American tapes playing!), I did all that through a completely unwarranted fog of exhaustion (drank three cans of Red Bull on Saturday, at least two too many) and disinterest. Finally got stuck into writing the comic at about 9.30am this morning. Idiot.
* The Oxfam Bookshop festival -- probably of interest to Oxford-striking-distance friends only -- celebrates the 15th Anniversary of this gorgeous shop and features all the local authors we managed to get hold of, eg. Brian Aldiss, Jan Mark, Philip Pullman, Tim Pears, Barbara Trapido more.