Mmmm, Chocolate

Right. I have ten copies of a two hour play, dumped from DivX to VHS. I'll cycle round to comrade Max tomorrow morning and deliver them. And no doubt spend two or three hours drinking his tea, munching his chocolate biscuits, and listening to his latest mad scheme to make the masses rise up by throwing art at them.

Unless John M is there too, in which case it'll be five hours of tea, chocolate biscuits, and philosophy. Which is always genuinely welcome. I like being a revolutionary socialist - you get to meet such fascinating people.
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Some of the multinational sailors from the 'festival of the sea' - retrospectively rechristend 'Sail 8' - are still around town. The burly bearded turks seem to have gone home, but there were some lovely russian ones outside the guildhall. All boyish and blond and, erm, yes.

The local rag is now asking: Sail 8 - What Went Wrong?. Presumably asking why it cost so much, why a profit wasn't made, and why the town went back to being sleepy, poor and tedious immidiately after the final firework display.
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Spent yesterday evening with Simon M, giving his computer a checkup, and trying out his eliptical fitness training machine thing. And then some spot research on Tom Cruise making a scientological tit of himself on daytime TV. And the anti-semitic, homophobic, incredibly violent film The Passion Of The Mel Gibson.

It's based on the heretical ramblings of the stigmatic Anne Emmerlich, the beliefs of a tiny sect (about 70 people) called the Holy Family, and a few inventions of Gibson himself. Like Pilate's wife taking pity on Christ, and Herod being a creepy gay perv.

Just two thirtysomething overweight marxist queens who share a fondness for famous people being extremely stupid. All perfectly innocent.
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I want an eliptical training thing. It simulates cross country skiing and 'gives you an intense fat burning workout' for 'sleek sexy thighs in just a few weeks', according to the shopping channels.

Unfortunately - there is always an 'unfortunately' - the only space for it is in the room that I cleared out and painted as a gym. And the reason that is unfortunate is, it's a coal hole. A cellar room with damp, muggy, dusty air. Not ideal for exercises that involve breathing.