9:55pm

I hear the sound of the television from the living room. Not sure why I've left it on. There was a programme I was half watching about creativity, which was half interesting. I'm waiting to rip Meshuggah's album Contradictions Collapse onto my i-pod. There is a worrying smell of burning coming from the kitchen. I wonder if I have left the oven on from the baked potatoes earlier. I'm reading a story by Cherrie Wilder called The House on Cemetery Street. I think. I'm not sure the spelling of her name either. The snow's all gone. A late shift tomorrow, and an early shift on Saturday, then off to London to watch Inade play somewhere. Dreamt last night that I was on a coach and I had a ticket for drinks, and everyone else got on the coach and found seats, and I couldn't and the interior of the coach had turned into some liminal mansion that resembled a waiting room. haven't had a cup of tea yet. Time for the kettle.