What have I done this weekend? I’ve driven (mostly with Nick and Katy) about three hundred and fifty miles. I’ve taken my friends to a Norwich gay bar full of army fetishists. I’ve smashed things with my Hulk Hands. I’ve chased Mo around a garden. I’ve turned thirty-one, cooked a massive breakfast, fed baby lambs and goats, been scared by a turkey, eaten fudge, laughed at cups with puppy heads, bought tons and tons of meat, ploughed a boat into shallow waters, cooked steak on a barbecue, watched an eighties sunset, snapped at a friend, watched music videos, eaten watermelon for breakfast, watched This Island Earth, cleaned like I’ve never cleaned before, become obsessed by the sky, eaten hamburgers by the ton, connected to a wifi node in Primrose Hill to check film times, took a high-speed trip to Tottenham Court Road to watch The Hulk, but missed the film, drank a Caipirinha and drove home. Wrote stuff. Became really tired. Went to sleep.
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