I left my MP3 player on top of Toby’s speakers whilst he was playing Death Metal Grindcore and some of the horror crept inside and killed my folk MP3s. Now it just crashes when I try and play anything. So on the way to work I listen to the Radio, when I remember, which is rarely. Most of the time I remember just in time to get into the Underground, so I have a brief Hallelujah of Melvyn Bragg’s voice, before it segues into blessed white noise. On the underground, nothing but static pouring into your ears, rather the grunts and sweaty silence of the angry commuters, it’s a blessing.
I’m currently nursing something that Jamie from Zone described as “pleurisy” so I’m having trouble walking, standing or breathing without trying to turn my bronchi into high-pressure chambers. Hence, and otherwise, I can’t wait for the smoking ban to come in. Seth keeps saying pubs are going to stink of stale beer and sweat when the smoke vanishes, but as my sense of smell has been killed by the endless colds I get because of my lungs’ weakness due to all the shit in the air, I couldn’t really care less. I’m sure it’ll just be another thing we’ll all get acclimatised to in our pursuit of the demon drink – hey, we might even get a Pavlovian reaction and start liking it! Roll on the 1st of July, woof!
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