I wonder what twenty year old me would have made of fifty year old me spending Saturday night in a church listening to something as patient and delicate as the music of Marcus Granberg and Skogen.

Freed from desire, mine er na na new defied, freed from desire, NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA #scotlandflag

Christmas tree is up.

Christmas has come early this year.

Torturous moment at the quiet start of a set by The Necks today at Cafe Oto when some music began playing, barely perceptibly, from someone’s phone, and I was terrified it was mine (but couldn’t check it as that would draw attention to me / make me look like an idiot who has done this before).

Marshall Allen collab with Wolf Eyes in Philly this eve

Winning an Oscar doesn’t seem to have had a huge impact on the number of people willing to come to Cafe Oto to hear someone scrape a guitar on a concrete floor, but that Margarida Garcia set was the best solo guitar performance I’ve heard in years.

I’ve heard it before, but for some reason tonight I was stopped in my tracks by the amazing un-songtitleness (possibly not a word) of the Northern Soul song titled “You Don’t Know Where Your Interest Lies”.

Two weeks in and really invested in this Ding/Gukesh chess match now. So little action, yet so much tension. Thirty minute thinks between moves! Makes test cricket look like darts.

First festive wallchart is up (and yeah, DO NOT mess with Alma’s Blu tack if you want to live to see Christmas)

As someone who really loves sports where nothing much happens for hours but in a really tense sort of way, the first match of the classical chess world championships today was an absolute treat.

Spent all of today in a very boggy, hilly and windy field in Cockfosters. Life choices, etc.

I’m in Stoke-on-Trent. No, locals tell me I’m in not. I’m in Hanley. Hang on, I’ve only walked 15 minutes from the station, are you sure? Yes, this is definitely not Stoke. OK, what about there, over the road, is that Stoke? No, that is Newcastle-under-Lyme. Right. Now not sure Stoke even exists.

286th in the men’s London cross country championship today, choosing to look at the fact there are around 5 million men in London as a way to judge this performance.

All those super-IQ revolutionaries who are prepared to work 80+ hour weeks for free are welcome to come round here and re-alphabetise my CD collection if they get rejected by Elon.

A very niche and particularly annoying (for me) clash this Saturday at midday: London Cross Country Championships on Parliament Hill / Deaf Center at St John’s Leytonstone.

Watching the darts with the kids, discussion about three dart bogey numbers led us to thinking about whether there are four/five/six dart bogey numbers, this is the sort of thing that needs to be taught in school. dartscheckoutassistant.com/2019/05/21/t...

After all the toxic anti-lagomorph stuff in the other place, these guys can’t wait to hear what you have to say.

Someone needs to give Herbie a treat before he wanders back to the other place.