Zzzzz

As Fran has mentioned, there is much tiredness in life at the moment. The past five days have been filled with social, and some work, but no chilling time, and I need a quiet night in.

It's been said that what makes someone introverted or extroverted is not whether they're outgoing or shy, but whether they recharge their batteries with company or solitude. If this is so, then I'm definitely an introverted type, because as much as I've been enjoying myself, I'm absolutely cream-crackered. That said, it's worth a quick round-up of what's been going on using one of my favourite HTML tags, the un-numbered list:

• Thursday: Caught up with Laura and Ed Dannan, on a brief whim, to sink a couple of drinks and find out if Laura had braved the tube, or continued in her campaign to support London's starving taxi drivers. It turns out that she's both pro-taxi driver, and a great supporter of the tube strike (or anything that causes the tube to shut down), so that was that. Also mangaged to spot Nigel Havers looking like the quintessential Englishman, and drop a pint of Guinness in the road, potential curtailing any local taxi-driver actions. Ho-hum...
• Friday: Saw Spiderman II, which I hereby declare the best super-hero film ever made. Sam Raimi has outdone all expectations, and produced an action movie, a comedy and a drama, and the first solution to the question, "How do we convert a comic to the big screen without looking stiffly-serious or cartoonishly camp?"
• Saturday: The Dane's BBQ, followed by Fran's Brother's Girlfriend's birthday party. We managed to show up to the do fairly late, but still catch some good hours of meet, meat and...erm...mete? At one point God Himself parted the clouds and declared a particular tray of sausages to be divine unto Himself, and their restorative effects were pronounced. Thanks to the Danes, and to God, for the afternoon.
  Later we went to the birthday party, at which there was much fine carousing, (I believe) much peacemaking with Fran's mother, and a slightly menacing threat that I must buy a mandolin by August.
• Sunday: ...saw the Galmarley outing to The Comedy Store, during which they discovered that God cares less for people called Kevin than he does for my sausages.
• Monday: We headed to the South Bank for the Merivale's 30^th wedding anniversary. I showed up in an absolutely rotten, sulky, tired mood and sat there moping for fifteen minutes before I excused myself and stuck my head in a bucket of water. That didn't work, but wiring my nipples to a car battery jump-started me successfully and I was back on form. It was a good night. You know it's a good night when at the end a couple of different people turn to you and say, "Thanks for the blues, maaan..."