Reading was and excellent festival (the bits that I can remember) and apart from a rather disappointing example of bad showmanship from the pre-madonna Axl Rose, I found most of the bands to live up to my expectations. Didn't get much of a chance to write in between hangovers and drunken escapades, but took my note book nevertheless in the vain hope that some random strain of inspiration might come spinning into my head.
I then had around two days to recover before being whisked away by my father on a walk from my home in Hertfordshire all the way off to Southend. It was great fun, save the freezing cold nights in my microlight sleeping bag, curled up with every single piece of clothing I own wrapped about my person, and amounted to a rather impressive 45 miles in all.
Now I'm back in the home town and have finally managed to grab some time to myself to update this little blog of mine. As for actually doing any writing I'm afraid the since the last post I've been relatively unproductive, and by relatively I mean I've done nothing.
Hopefully get some stuff written up this afternoon, before I wonder off to Camden Town to perform my last ever gig with StereoTypical before we bugger off to Uni. Lets hope the bloody tube workers actually bother to do their job and don't go on strike.
Until then...
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