Thinking about looking out all those songs that have done me psychological damage and scrubbing over the lyrics so I can hum them without pain, starting with bloody Almaz by Randy Crawford. Apologies if it's anyone's favourite. Also on the hit list, Hey Jude, Killing me softly, and the horrible, horrible Don't go changing. But I have such a bad memory for music (perhaps repressing?) that the chances of tracking down most of them seem vanishingly slim. What was that endless, grinding song about an old man living in a whale corpse on the beach, which my Dad used to play to annoy my mum? And was that a Joan Baez song that had parrots shooting the sunset with sawn-off shotguns? Was it really post-apocalyptic or did it just feel that way?
The guy at snappy snaps told me to go to colorbase today. He has a point. In the end we compromised on him hacking the end of my film off with scissors. (Bad Pingo cam had chewed my film some.) In other camera news, the last week of June was especially inspirational for Matt (Brooker).
There's always someone does it better. Here's a guy who makes much more creative use of his palm pilot than I do or likely ever will ...
Four weeks of lycra, legs and lovely scenery kicking off le tour, with the traditional almost-a-British-victory and huge catastrophic crash, two separate stories for a change. Two lower rank riders have abandoned, but the two badly-injured names are still riding -- Hamilton with a fractured collarbone and Caspar with a neckbrace. Australian newcomer Nick Gate's helmet was smashed into 10 pieces! Those cyclists are crazy.