I’ve got candles lit, and the Cocteau twins on the stereo, after having spent the day lying about watching DVDs and pissing about on-line. I’m sipping Bushmills and waiting for The West Wing to start. The room smells of apple and cinnamon (yes, I have lit the Big Pies candle). If I had managed to have a warm shower today, it would have been just about perfect, but one can’t have everything, I guess. One day, I will teach this fucking boiler who’s boss. Possibly with some kind of hammer.