Tuesday, July 30, 2002
God, internet cafes are evil places. Row upon row of sweating creatures with impending headaches, clattering away to a wispy background of chart-friendly house. My nose is up against the screen. I have 27 minutes left and in order to get change to buy another ticket, I will have to purchase some rubbery muffin from the Nescafe Cafe. Big stern signs informing you that you consume food or drink not purchased on the premises under pain of death. In front of me sits a bottle of branded mineral water bought yesterday and refilled with tap water this afternoon. Does this make me exempt? Can sentence be imposed retroactively? Have they got people on patrol?
Anyway, what joy, my own little blog, which will doubtless be groaning under a mighty weight of absolute bollo in a couple of weeks. Providing I can get decent net access. And remember the few morsels of HTML I've picked up. 20 minutes. Hell. Perhaps I can stretch to a baguette. (That sounded rude, didn't it?) In the meantime, this is where I usually am. Lucky me.
www.playlouder.com (I just did that three times. Please work now. Please. Ta.)
Anyway, what joy, my own little blog, which will doubtless be groaning under a mighty weight of absolute bollo in a couple of weeks. Providing I can get decent net access. And remember the few morsels of HTML I've picked up. 20 minutes. Hell. Perhaps I can stretch to a baguette. (That sounded rude, didn't it?) In the meantime, this is where I usually am. Lucky me.
www.playlouder.com (I just did that three times. Please work now. Please. Ta.)
