About last night

There's a french term which translates as 'Wooden Mouth'. It refers to the furred dusty feeling in your mouth the morning after a night of drinking. In my case, good wine and bad vodka. Really really bad vodka.

I was awake at three in the morning, alert enough to be typing notes about how it made me feel, but clumsy enough to delete the notes. For the record, it made music seem warmer, deeper, more enveloping. With a relaxed (and slightly blurred) mind, I could let the music just happen to me in it's own time and in it's own way.
Last night, I finally got Simon M's computer up and running, with enough memory to prevent crawling, and reliable net access. It was him who fed me the wine. Then, after a slightly wobbly and ill-advised bicycle trip, I fixed the security on John M's computer. The vodka was a mad impulse on the way.

I also have a vague recollection of phoning H while knocking over some plates. We're probably meeting up on Monday.
Tonight Strict Machines are playing a smallish gig, and I'm invited. That's 'invited' as in 'you will come won't you'.

Tomorrow, election leafleting. Not for a party - against one. The BNP are standing in a nearby ward, and this is to try to reduce their small predicted turnout into a miniscule one.

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