I’ve been driving a fair bit over the weekend, which means I’ve been listening to CDs. My Life in the Bush of Ghosts is even better than I remembered it, although the tickatickatickaticka guitars get a bit wearing after a while. There are some albums that you enjoy listening to and that’s it: but there are others that make you want to go and play/sing/record, and Bush of Ghosts is one of them. The Flaming Lips’ At War With the Mystics, on the other hand, is quite daft. No, I’ll correct that, it’s very daft.
Speaking of daft, Madame was off work today and made lunch for me. Or rather she gave me some vindaloo that Plague had brought home yesterday as a dare. I’m not normally that reckless but I enjoyed this one, although I needed a mouthful of milk for every mouthful of sauce.
Doing jujutsu tonight there was one armlock I kept failing to put on correctly. Right, I thought, I’ll do it properly this time. Crack! Almost broke my partner’s arm. Big ooops. Mark was very tolerant. He’s karate-trained and only minutes before had been stopping powerful punches just centimetres from my (white) face. I hope he wasn’t regretting his restraint.