Britain seems to be en route to whatever the opposite of meltdown is. Snow is coming, my children. FLEE! Save yourselves! Except if you could try not to flee until after my other half is back tomorrow, so that she gets the road to herself and doesn’t get stuck in traffic, that’d be lovely of you*

Manchester hasn’t had any snow yet, although it has gone from V. cold to F. cold. The cats are being extra cuddly at the moment, mainly as I’m the warmest thing in the room. I’ve managed to avoid going out at all today, but need to go on a mercy dash tomorrow for an emergency ball of wool. Or yarn. there’s a difference, apparently.

Apart from worrying about whether herself will make it back tomorrow, I’ve had a top day. Did some token productive things (washed up, sorted some clothes, shuffle some stuff round a bit) then spent a while reading watching You Tube videos about Jazz Theory. I’m not a big jazz fan (“11 guys on stage, all playing a different tune” to quote Craig Ferguson) but the theory side of it is an interesting way to improve your general musicianship and impress people in music shops.

After some Doctor Who over lunch, I was tinkering with the xbox and discovered i can get through it. This is effectively a music station based on what you like. I’ve been tuning into to eighties indie and post-folk and slowcore (all terms i’ve picked up from the app, by the way) ever since.
Making a bit of a dent on the magazine backlog too. Much easier to read without the distraction of moving pictures.

Anyway, can’t sit here chatting, got a whole lot of nothing to do before i go to bed.

toodle pip

*Obviously, this does not apply if you are driving a snow plough or gritting lorry.