Ooh, that's better.

I had an emo moment – well, morning and early afternoon – earlier today, but a few hours spent in bed with some appropriate depressing gothy bleak 80s miserableness seems to have done the trick of draining off the worst of it.

[yes, it's that damn badly-lipsticked bloke. If you've not got this album, but would like to try out its utterly divine despairness, give me a shout and...]

There's a difference with me between momentary emo-day-ness, which can be nicely solved by lying down with crap music, and actual depression, in which I can't abide any music at all. You'll know the difference, because with the former I moan a bit about feeling emo, and with the latter I don't talk at all.

Also: with the former, I get momentary fleeting ideations of "hey, a drink would be nice right now". Not the latter. Even if I wanted to – which I wouldn't, because in that mood nothing is thought of as "nice" – I could hardly get out of bed as far as the offie [liquor store].

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Good Things:

The old printer, which died last month by having its cartridge carriage fall off as if it had electronic leprosy, is now in the back of Priscilla waiting to be "recycled"; luckily someone else had just got a new one and asked me if I had a good home for their redundant HP.

Priscilla, by the way, is thankfully not affected by the current "sticky pedal" nightmare – she's too old. Her MOT* reminder has just come through, though, so someone will have to get underneath her and have a good poke around. Lucky girl.

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Another Good Thing:

On Tuesday night, I had an epiphany. For the past few months, I've been drawn into weekly hospital-soap Holby City like a fly around a particularly delicious stool; I found myself rooting for some characters [often evil ones] and booing others.

Then, halfway through the episode the other night, suddenly it dawned on me. "hey, this is utter pish!"

I won't be going back to it.

Promise.

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And A Slightly Surprising Thing:

The people of my little town are, well, they're Suffolk. They're not known for their advanced intellectual abilities; yes, I know, that's a country bumpkin stereotype, but like almost all stereotypes, there unfortunately is a small grain of truth for some people behind what gets blown up into complete bollocks for everybody.

I'm thinking of one particular person of my friendship and acquaintanceage, who has arrived in Suffolk from Essex and whose outward personality and identity sometimes reflects the stereotypes of both regions.

So when, over coffee the other morning, she says "oh, I love Shakespeare", it doesn't quite fit…

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* Note for non-UKers: an obligatory annual roadworthiness check for older vehicles. Despite everyone's moans when the time comes around, it probably saves thousands of lives a year; and if you're the kind of stupid rabid libertarian who thinks this is unwarranted over-Government regulation, then get the fucking fuck off my website now. Seriously.