I've started looking for a flat.

I don't think I'm in the right mindset yet, though - I went to see one on Thursday night and the first thing I noticed was a Weezer poster and the second thing was the guy's Explorer leaning behind the couch. Still can't decide whether it was a nice flat or not. Also, the sheer amount of wonga that I'll have to spend on a decent place will leave me penniless (if, at least, not homeless) for the rest of my natural life.

Fortunately, Saturday's TM practice came along to remind me that the Explorer was the correct thing to notice about the flat. We're getting steadily better at most of the set list - if not at organising rehearsals - and I'm increasingly optimistic that the gig will rock one's fucking socks off.

Afterwards, we had a few pints round the corner from the Brill Building and then Dom and I headed back to Edinburgh. The boozing continued in the Wash, where I piggy-backed (not literally) on Dom's helpfully prearranged boozing with his scarily incestuous (not literally) mates. Edinburgh's a small place...

On Sunday, at 9 am (I know - I was so stunned to be up that early I forgot to have a hangover), I sold my car, and I cried inside.

P.S: Jeff, amazingly, has a blog. It cost Josh two pints to find out about it.

"You never have a blog."
"I do."
"No you don't."
"I'll bet you two pints I do."
<laptop is produced, address is supplied>
"Bugger."

P.P.S: So does Dev. Although as yet she's giving us the silent treatment.