Spurt (pun always intended)

Things Not to do on a Saturday afternoon whilst living in London:

Go long-black-winter-coat-hunting on Oxford Street five weeks before Christmas. And, if you must, then go as early as possible. In at 9am, out at 11am. I'm sure you all know this is true enough, though I feel it's one of those facts of life that everybody could benefit from hearing every now and again, just in case it slipped their mind the way it did mine.

A further note: if you do see a coat you like, but they haven't got your exact size (because after all you were never a happy medium), don't go to a line of other shops looking for that exact shame coat because none will have it. You might like to convince yourself they will, but I'm telling you they won't. Change what you're looking for, or go back when it's less manic and try to find the one in your size.

Friday night : feeling fluey I was glad to be at home and slept my way through the entire evening in the warmth of my single bed. Sometimes it can be nice to just do nothing and have no desire of pulling, going out drinking, or anything of that sort. Just eat food, listen to music and sleep. The influenza does seem to have come to a semi-halt. A few more days and I'll be back to the bubbly self. Fear not.

Last night: a reunion of sorts with the London Bridge Drugs Circuit. It's always nice to see them, and the conversations can always take us on down interesting roads, no fear of that. Though, I wonder whether my anal sex dissection (conversation that is) might have been more appropriate anywhere else but in a public house. Not that people seemed to notice. Although, the girl in the group seemed to blush which always worries me. If people can do it why are you scared of talking about in public? I've come to the conclusion, perhaps being overtly sexual in terms of conversation is something I need to calm. People's eyes seem to dart from side to side at the mere mention of anal probing.

Arthur can't seem to understand why I have this need to over analyse everything. Hmm, perhaps it's so that I can get it out from cluttering my mind. Move the rubbish that lies at the foot of your car and you can get a move on. That's the easiest way I can put it. I love thinking about and I love talking about it, but it needs to spew forth when I'm with people who like talking about just as much.

A rant: Haven't been able to go the Erotica 2006! Sigh. Things just seem to go wrong at the last second. Never mind, next year. The trick to going is buying the tickets well in advance, once the money has gone, the time seems to emerge from nowhere.