Wednesday morning notes

My iPod nano has yet to arrive. The longer it takes to get here, the more I question my decision to buy it in the first place. The turmoil, the angst.

Go and see the 40-Year-Old-Virgin. It's surprisingly funny, well-written, well-performed and a genuinely good film. My current drought is no big deal compared to this. It's good to have perspective.

The Ashes. I have actually been excited by cricket the last few months. I have lived in Britain for 16 years and have resisted it. But this has been a remarkable competition, and I'm glad England won.

Shop cricket. Yes, we play cricket it a wine shop. It's silly - we played last night accompanied by port followed by beer. It is the best way to play cricket. I personally smashed over £60 worth of stemware. Oops. A bottle of non-alcoholic beer was destroyed, but that was Andy throwing a bean bag at Veronica. Nobody cried over that one. My spin-bowling needs work but my slow ball is a killer.

Sox lost to the Blue Jays last night. They beat them the night before. I suppose there's balance in the world.

I've been looking at digital SLRs online and drooling. With everything in my life at the moment I cannot justify it. But that doesn't mean I don't want it.

I cooked sausage and mash with my homemade red onion gravy. It tasted ace. I'm hungry.

This pic is from the Highland Ball last month and is of myself and the now-married Victoria Ross-Taylor. Just thought I'd put a pic up of people as opposed to ruins. I was pretty ruined the morning after this was taken to be honest.

A friend of mine seems to be tightening toothpaste caps. Or something. I got a text saying she's doing the worst job in the world, quoting from Willy Wonka, where the dad tightens caps on the toothpaste. I'm not sure if it's metaphorically comparative, in which case she's doing something as bad and as mindnumbing, but not actually tightening toothpaste caps, or if she's literally tightening toothpaste caps. Either way, it sucks, and I hope that Chacchus, Bacchus's brother, the Chocolate God, visits fine chocolate upon her.

I remember one job having to make over 600 grilled cheese sandwiches in a morning. And not nice cheese either. No, this was pure plastic kraft slices. It was horrible. It took a very long time before I could enjoy a toastie or rarebit again.