Greetings, reader or three! Apologies for my absence, but this week I’ve been fighting on two fronts: churning through the vast enormity of books on the Dutch Revolt and feeling the sniffling onset of what could be described as a cold. But with my 6th essay now complete, barring minor adjustments tomorrow, and a stack of scary-looking ‘Immune Heath’ tablets from Boots (which I was given by a kindly checkout person ages ago – what, do I look that bad?) keeping me just-about-well, I am deterred from blogging no longer. (Oh dear, I think I’ve forgotten how to write. Never mind.)
I received an e-mail to join last.fm today, I think from Fliss. (Hi Fliss! Do you ever read this?) However, I continue to reject the friendly advances of this particular site, mainly because it promises to “show off your taste”. A very dangerous thing to do, I feel. Whilst others (tips hat to Nic) might get through writing essays with the help of Pingu’s super-mega-amazing-trance-set-thingy, tonight my equivalent has consisted almost exclusively of: tracks from Timbaland Presents: Shock Value (not bad, you might think), some of Pingu’s recent mashups (OK, a little niche), Ottawan’s much neglected classic Hands Up (dicolicious?) and finally the complete bouquet of MIDI files from SimCity 2000. Oh… dear? In my defence, they do evoke happy and\or frustrated memories from years ago, trying to construct a perfect world and then invariably giving up and unleashing a swarm of tornadoes. I distinctly remember trying to avoid building a city dependent on cars, too, only to realise that this wasn’t going to go my way no matter how many bus shelters or tube stations I plonked down on the expensively levelled land.
Without bothering to link my paragraphs in the slightest, I’ll now disjointedly move on to quietly announce my marriage (last night) to Sophie, who has now won her mandated mention of the week. (For the literalists amongst you, that’s marriage in terms of becoming college parents for next year’s freshers. And yes, before you ask, civil partnerships are allowed. Single parents possibly frowned upon though.) I proposed by rapping a mildly amended and thankfully majorly abridged rendition of Uptown Girl, which rather captures the relationship quite nicely.
Keep on truckin’, or whatever else it is that you do.