Casual thoughts on a weekday, in the mist between Christmas and New Year.

 I'm getting old and I have to adapt. (and pee a lot more)

Everything changes, is changing, and that's good, it's always been that way, now I'm on the receiving end of evolution. I watch my language try to follow the new norm, the new sensitivities. People with multicoloured hair talking to me about gender and gender fluency, don't they now? that when I was their age I was a fan of David Bowie. Although I was an idiot back then (more than now) If you had talked to me about gender fluid I would have thought about the stains on my bed linnen. But David Bowie? he was already into all that stuff. (btw my dog thinks my leg is gender neutral).

One good thing about this getting old gig, I don't have to worry about long term problems.

I'm retro, pre-loved, second hand, antique and my prosthetics make me kind of bric a brac. 

I'd like to meet the person who makes up all the pretentious names for all the different sorts of coffee you can order, and force feed the fucker some coffee beans. 

I love Eastern Europe, most places there don't buy into this fake happiness.

Using pedestrian crossings in Prague just makes you more vulnerable.

I travelled to London for a gig on the eurostar train, I must say the legroom was just about right for me, but I'm just 1m 68cm, for anybody taller it must be hell, but there again my head didn't comfortably reach the cushion on the seat, so the design of these seats are for people with short legs and a long torso I suppose. It's a fast way to cross the Channel, but in a rubber boat you probably have more legroom.