I just got an iPod. I’ve been thinking about it for ages, and the angst of my financial situation has always consumed me. But a momentary glimmer of financial light appeared, and rather than invest in my future I decided that the time had come for frivolity once more. And this glimmer coincided with the fortuitous arrival of said tech item at my local Micro Anvika.
So we hop on a bus after a crafty fag and emerge bouncing and over-caffeinated at Tottenham Court Road. The iPods are almost throwing themselves off the shelves and into people’s grubby little mitts. I get the second to last one. They only came in that morning… Matt’s waiting outside, because he didn’t realise that we couldn’t wait for him. Rob accidentally buys himself a Sony Clié. And then we went and ate pies in a pub and it was really nice.
Then miraculously (and only two hours after we left) we’re back in the office, and I discover that the iMac I work on doesn’t have a firewire port, so I’m left frustrated for still more hours. I fiddle around for a while longer at work and run home to play.
Ten minutes later I’m hideously disappointed. And then half an hour after that, I’m bouncing with excitement once again. Then Kate comes home and we watch Bridget Jones’ Diary on video, which she got through the post at work today. Last time we watched it, it was a rough cut – and there’s this great bit in the middle of the fight where the screen goes all black and it says “FACE POV / DARCY” or something similar and it kind of spoilt the flow. This time, however, I have to confess I really enjoyed it. Although I now find myself consigned to the mass population of this country who want to bone Colin Firth. But I digress…
It’s almost midnight and I have to sleep and this entire post is over-excited arse, but who the hell cares, right? Woo. My iPod is full to bursting with dodgy MP3s of crappy songs from the eighties and I’m kind of tired and I’m going to bed, exhausted and happy and who needs a goddam boyfriend anyway?!