after the ecstasy,

20 hours standing on wet pavements will apparently make you sick, drinking cough syrup from the bottle will apparently make you dizzy. On saturday night I was drinking with musicians, arguing about song writing, making friends and smiling lots, by Monday morning I was using the same pen that's been writing my first novel to fill out Heath and Safety quizzes at work. I felt this was unsuitable so I bit it in half and threw it away.

funny how the day before I get home from a tour or festival all I can think about is how much I want a routine and my own bed, then the day I get home I'm planning my next big mission. Am I always going to be on the wrong side of that door? I suppose the only way to answer that is to finish these songs and find out what happens.

writing all this up is epic and depressing - in about 10,000 words you can have my week fangirling Panic in all it's superlative, poorly punctuated glory. until then, here's a basket full of puppies.