So, what’s up with me? Why do I not feel I have anything interesting to say in my blog? It’s probably a mixture of a few things. Firstly my profile:

Josquin was a very good renaissance composer. I’m a musician too, but this is pretty much irrelevant to the diary, in which I talk about ummm... girls. And bizarre things that happen to me. And bizarre things that happen to girls I know. And things that happen to me at the bazaar. Whether girls are involved or not.

So I’m a musician, and at the moment things are pretty busy. The last evening I had at home was Saturday. Actually, that’s not entirely true. But I should have been rehearsing on Monday. I’m singing three passions and a ninety minute choral monolith all within a week. If I get sick, I’m done for. Which means I need lots of sleep and less diary-writing time, alas. I got to bed early last night, and kept waking up, but felt better all day, except for the getting out of bed bit, which was just as bad as always.

As regards girls, this is not entirely up to date, but I’ve retained it because I think it’s cute. My romantic life is sickeningly happy, which is great, but I don’t want to be seen to be skiting. Not too badly anyway. The lovely Marion is extremely beautiful to me. To the point where when she emails me a not very detailed message about getting her head stuck in a tram door I have all sorts of distressing images in my head, each worse than what actually happened. Maybe this is what it’s like to be a parent, though as parents say, they (and I) wouldn’t have it any other way.

There is one funny story involving Marion. One afternoon we watched an episode from the new series of Gilmore Girls with my housemate Hilda. Hilda (who is employed part-time and has since finished the series in record time) went to the kitchen and the lovely Marion and I succumbed to our desires. We were too embarrassed to walk sheepishly through the kitchen to the bathroom afterwards, so we were stuck. My brilliant idea of sending an SMS to her phone to get her to her room didn’t work, as her phone wasn’t on. In the end, when we came out with requisite sheepishness, Hilda was on her way out to the clothesline and was out there for ages. If only we’d waited another minute!

Alas, it’s Josquin’s don’t-get-sick bedtime. Very dull indeed. Cheers to all!

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by Leaving Lia.

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