Whatever a cynic may think, surely this proves that Spring has come to Britain?

A good holiday day begins with waking up without the aid of artificial expergefaction, the cold grey light filtered through the yellow curtain, a more practical form of rose-tinted glasses. The window pane glistening with raindrops, occasionally getting scattered by a gust of wind hurling itself, and a fresh volley of drops, at the window from the outside. Inside is still warm.

A few more chapters of a world so like this one. Maybe a little more coincidental, a little more magical and a good dollop more explainable. The parts that aren't are quite intentional. All the parts that don't work, all the reflections of the incapacity in this 'real' life are stacked against each other into ways that seem to make them make so much more sense.

That's Adrian Plass for you. His short novel, An Alien at St. Wilfred's... a beautiful way to spend about 6 hours of your life. Hopefully it will affect much more than the hours that it is read.

But now that the sun is shining, the sky is so blue it almost convinces you that it's not even cold outside and the remains of the rain make half the world sparkle. What music can I listen to on a day like this? When silly love songs just make me just want to forget, and loud, angry ones don't work because I don't have regrets. Nothing too flippant, yet not too poinient, in case it finds a nerve best kept hidden. Not too distinctive yet not too bland. No use being sad, but happy seems a little off the mark. Can't look forward, don't want to look backward, won't look down, I'll have to look up.

OK :)