I'm chopping away,

marvelling that roasting, as I've recently discovered, is the best way to cook just about everything. I pick up some random vegetable and stick the (8", ninja-sharp) knife into it. Except it's not a vegetable, it's my finger.

Stupid knife.

So now this weekend's TM practice is out because I can't play without shrieking like a girl as the cut opens up again. I am deeply unhappy about this. Our practice session on Wednesday had been great: we'd managed to inject a bit more feeling into the songs (most of which we've written ourselves, and all of which still sounds great to our ears at least); the distinction between quiet and loud bits was getting much better defined, and most importantly, I'd learned to pogo up and down while still playing passably well.

All in all, an excellent session, making it doubly annoying when inadvertent self-harm buggers up the next one.

The weekend was then nice, in a quiet kind of way. Josh, Dave, Gill and I purged the flat of alcohol on Friday night, as is becoming worryingly traditional, and then went to the entertaining (well, tequila always is, isn't it?) Berlin Bierhaus* to round the night off with a gawk at the fashionistas/neds grinding away to terrible dance music.

I met up with the family on Saturday for a meal at Howie's, and very nice it was too. On Sunday I did absolutely bugger all, apart from haul myself round the Meadows a couple of times to start preparing for this year's 10k. Still no dodgeball in sight, although I am going paintballing on Tuesday. Yay for pain(t)!

P.S: Tobias is on Gizmodo. Nice!

* Ha! "Unexpected level of sophistication" my ass.