Easter weekend...

was down in London to see Kevin Spacey and Jeff Goldblum at the Old Vic in David Mamet's "Speed the Plow." Which, as they say, was good.

Being cultured types the magnificent Deb and I also went to see the Juan Munoz retrospective at the Tate Modern which was also pretty damn good, but different, obviously.

And we got drunk. More than once. And it was freezing, with squalls.

Next weekend will be in Blackpool walking on the beach and drinking beer at night. Nothing clever or imaginative but hey, it's off time.

I'm in lurve...

yup, after all these years (7 actually) a woman called Debbie has stolen me heart. Sigh, and I'm feeling pretty damn good about the whole thing. Debs is a vegetarian so it's the wholesome life for me from now on. Yesterday I bought a liquidiser to make soup or broth as I like to call it. To me the word 'soup' has always seemed lightweight whereas 'broth' is a hearty word an honest to goodness word. When broth's on the stove the whole world stands respectful. For me broth conjures an image of cast iron pans blackened and suspended above an open range barely visible through clouds of steam blowing from the spout of a huge kettle. In the background a band of kilted pipers loudly play Scotland The Brave and tiny children sit by a rough wooden table licking their lips in anticipation of something wholesome that is to surely come their way. Aye!

I'm certain this liquidiser will be equal to the task of creating such magic. Oh yes.