Whoopity doo

I seem to have landed rather a large client (not fat) who wants a web site for his record/agency/management company, along with quicktime and realmedia streaming. He is also interested in a web based radio station.
If he has the money for all this I shall eat my hat (cotton cap rather than bowler).
I shall probably end up doing it for the usual pittance... Still you never know!
To this end I have installed PHP NUKE and am frantically trying to learn enough php jargon to flabberghast with the best.
Fingers crossed.

True

Whenever you feel small, useless, offended and depressed, always remember that you were once the fastest and most victorious sperm out of hundreds of millions...
Thanks for the reminder

Weird but oddly attractive

I hereby decree that Transgenic Tombstones are the way forward. I plan on setting root in an attractive orchard somewhere in Sussex, my leaves rustling in the wind, my fruit providing succour for epicures that so desire it. Hmm.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!

What is it with me and deadlines, and why can't I get it through my dense skull that finishing early would be a pleasant and relaxing experience.
I remember at school it was the same. I'd leave my prep until the last possible second, often staying up half the night to finish. Strange how the excuse 'I'm working on my prep Sir.' never seemed to hold any weight when caught in the library at 4.00am.
I've written a good, nay, a damn good song called 'Hollywood Fantasy.' I can 'hear' how it could be, the production I'd like to throw it's way. Yet what have I done? Watched a shed load of T fucking V, and only started to record it at 11pm. Arse that I am.
Winge over

Somme like it hot

Big fun today. I spent a couple of wonderful hours driving a 3.5 tonne mini digger around the field, raising the brambles to the ground. True the field now looks like the Somme in 1918 (without trenches or corpses), but I now have two LARGE piles of shrubbery to be burnt.
In other news I still haven't reviewed the last songfight, and I still haven't finished my tax. Oh for a brain that has its head screwed on.

A tired bunny

Not that I would actually qualify as a bunny per se, but I am tired.
It's aroung 2.30am and having got to bed at 6am, dragged from the pit 3 hours later by an over enthusiastic neighbour who had 'a mate delivering 80 tonnes of free scaplings for the track' (when is anything actually free?), I have not been in the best of moods today.
I don't really mind the fact that the track is beginning to look like a small 'A' road, or that I had to spend several hours doing hard manual labour, but the perpetual moaning about the state of my land gets me down. They all want to live in the country, but have the country like a glorified B&Q garden centre. Fuck 'em.
Enough. I'm away to my bed.

pondering green

I'm thinking that this 'new' blog template is just too green. I was after something calming, but not too calming. I'm not sure if this is the one.
You see? It's making me write utter bilge, and for no apparent reason.
On another note: My entry for 'When it snows' has already garnered a vote, so I must finally be doing something right. I get the feeling that I'm finding a syle, though the style I'm finding doesn't actually appeal. Odd.
Yesterday my bank manager asked me what I would really like to be doing (bank psychobabble) and without a moments hesitation I said "writing music". Then I had to qualify this by telling him about my musical past. He said "did you play on Eastbourne Pier in 1979?" I replied that I hadn't and he said "Good, it was a terrible gig." It was all rather surreal and a tad confusing.
Now he wants to sell me a mortgage.
If I didn't already live in the country I'd say 'Oh for the peace of the country.'