Special K:

but I'm talking neither about breakfast cereal nor horse tranquilisers. Keef of 8 Million Ways To Die came round to the flat the other night to borrow some bass gear and we started talking again about The K Project: a band composed entirely of people called Keith. We were beaten to the punch to the obvious name. Bastards. You'd think we could claim copyright infringement or something at least.

If any guitar-playing and/or singing Keiths are out there with a predisposition towards Queens of the Stone Age or Mogwai-esque prog rock, get in touch! Together we will rock hard, in a Keith way.

Chris and Leyla came by Edinburgh again on their way to London and then to Oz, and a load of the old guard went out on Wednesday night. It's a crying shame they live on the other side of the world - it was a cracking night. We drank, talked of weddings and watched Neil fall over and empty a pint into his lap. Good times.

I had two Easter meals this week: the first, at Ash's on Thursday was a pleasant and very mature affair, at least until the chat turned to testicles; the second, on Sunday, was a marvellously boozy affair that thundered on into the night. Devon cooked an unequivocally awesome ham with Coke (sounds ludicrous but tastes like the Pig of God), and once we finished gorging ourselves on that we continued to booze over a couple of boardgames. We carried on to the Basement and rolled home once the drink had overcome the bellyful of food. An excellent day!

Epilogue redux: the car is alive again. My internet-aided guess was right; the part arrived during the week and I borrowed Ali's car to get to Glasgow with Steven's axle stands and jack.

If I was slightly paranoid about sticking my head under the side of the car to fix the exhaust, I was absolutely horrified at what I had to do this time. I jacked the car up and stuck the stands in place, then slid under the car from the front until I was directly under the engine. I was about three inches of clearance and a split second from a really, really painful accidental death.

With a worrying amount of force I got the broken part out and with some help from a helpful mechanical engineer who was fixing his Land Rover in the next parking bay, got the new one in. The shift worked again, and Road Trip II: Nurburging Folly is back on extremely dangerous track.