Major clear out today in advance of a desk move. My God I hoard some bloody rubbish. Apologies to all those people who sent me photographs they wanted returned. By tonight they'll be in a big skip. As will several CDs by bands and singer/songwriters who were way off the mark sending their warblings to me in the first place and also are so twisted in their logic that they think the way to the top is to mark their Tesco home-written CDs with indecipherable permanent markings and to include an image in the envelope printed by a 9-pin dot-matrix printer in draft mode on tissue paper. We're talking club acts rather than credible efforts to enter the entertainment industry, I hasten to add. I'd hate to shatter anyone's illusions. Given that it's really incredibly simple to get yourself in a newspaper if you have even just a shred of common sense, I wonder what these people were ever thinking of. The law finally allowed me to shift some old notepads as well today. All that shorthand about garden fetes, preserves competitions and dogs in need of a new home. I've really been working on the Framley Examiner these last couple of years. Such a waste of paper. Throwing it all out was quite cathartic but I'm sure I'll have amassed a similar amount of shit by the time the six month stint elsewhere is over.
Listening: Rufus Wainwright - Instant Pleasure. Buying: Do Not Adjust Your Set.
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