This is an ad break during the film 'Taken' which I realise is not 'Tell No One' nor is it even based on any kind of novel by Harlan Coben. It's not nice, in fact I've just decided I don't want to watch it. I read loads of thrillers but somehow only visualise the events in some vague haziness that leaves me the right side of a big wall. Watching it acted out doesn't do it for me.

I've had a very sociable couple of days, starting with allotmenting with JSing on Friday after Bloke had collected GS. We mainly chatted, drank tea and ate hot cross buns, with a little digging and planting, just to show willing. She's towards the end of her comeback album which she's bringing out herself, having been fucked over by record companies once too often. Lots of tales to tell.

I found this pic SC posted last year of the changing face of our allotment on google earth:



which reminded me that for a pair of knackered stoners, me and SC have done pretty good and I feel inspired to persevere.

At this time of year garden centres sell small perennials at a decent price, so although we're nowhere near ready to plant them, I bought ten assorted for twenty quid:



They're a good starting point, but I think I'll probably have to pot them on.

In the evening I wandered down to the seedy old club on the beach for my first evening out in god knows how long. I was early so had a quick smoke on the beach. Looking west:



south (on the right that's a bunch of old hippies frolicking in silhouette):



and east



and a close up



The gig was perfect. Last time I saw them they were knackered and it was all a bit of a let down but last night they were really fired up and even came at 'Woke up this morning' from such a new direction that it gave me goosebumps all over again. Dancing - brilliant. One of the things I like about them, as well as just loving the music, is that they're old gits like me, not trying to be young or aiming at a young audience, just being who they are now. I managed to become surprisingly pissed on an empty stomach and a few pints of lager, which somehow led to me getting involved in a long political discussion with a very charismatic and beautiful black gay man, who was part of the band's entourage in some undetermined role. We hit it off to the extent that when I decided to go home he picked me right up and hugged me so tight he bruised my fucking ribs. And that hasn't happened for a while, I can tell you.

Today travelling V came to town for lunch, which was excellent. I met her on diaryland many years ago and there she was, right in front of me, somehow asking after ED in a way that enabled me to answer honestly without breaking down, which also hasn't happened for a while. I feel truly blessed to have made friends with her.

So, very pleasant, but that brought me right to the end of this latest surge of energy. I crawled home and have barely moved since.

I've lost a whole box of valium somewhere on my travels. Two weeks worth of my regular night-time dose. The doctor won't replace it - she'll think I've upped my intake and am getting into trouble with them - or maybe she wouldn't and would believe me, but I'm trying to do without them. This may lead to some aggro, but maybe not.

I also want to rant about my struggle to find something decent to wear to YD's wedding. I'm walking her in and she wants me to try and not look as scruffy as I do, but fucking hell, it's hard work. I don't shop online much - is there a secret? Endless gazillions of shite and whenever you come across something half decent it's been discontinued. Bah humbug.

Here's Bob:



Today I am grateful for: friends; music; allotment; photography; family - this is a good life, all in all

Sweet dreams xxx