I can't believe Ipswich lost the pitchfork derby yesterday. If I was a football fan, I'd be really quite annoyed.
But anyhoo, here's a sad picture. After seven years sitting in the corner of my spare room, I've finally dismantled my drum kit, in an effort to fool my brain into thinking that I might actually be moving to Brighton at some point in the near future.
The way I phrased that makes it sound like I've spent seven years sitting in the corner of the spare room. I haven't. I've spent seven years sitting in the corner of the living room.
Anyhoo, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Isn't that Molly Ringwald in the top left corner of the picture?". Well yes it is. But I'm not ashamed of having a Breakfast Club poster on my wall. It's actually quite cool. And retro. And... um... street. No, really.
Anyway, it must be true what they say about the seven year itch. I've lived in Shotley Gate since 1998, and seven years on, my love for the place finally seems to be waning. There's a younger, more attractive town fluttering its eyelashes at me. So with a bit of luck I might be able to leave the old battleaxe in the country, and head on down to Sus-sexy Brighton (that pun so nearly works) while I'm still in my very early thirties. Hence the packing of the drums.
A break-up's not without its pain though. I've got a blood blister on my hand where I caught my thumb in a microphone stand yesterday afternoon. Love hurts. Well, my thumb hurts. It's the same thing.