Mud!

I just read a quote in Q Magazine where Sharon Osbourne, pissed off with having to work with Billy Corgan for long periods of time as he tried to monopolise a Smashing Pumpkins album - he wanted to play everything! - she stomped off, presumably in disgust, and said he was nothing more than a 'baldy twat in a dress'. You have to give the woman credit for being able to boil it down to the bare bones of an issue. Maybe a more tactful person would have called him 'a megalomaniac, replete with depilated head. Included: questionable sexual issues and has a proclivity for women's clothing.' Still, a sentence like that would dis-include all the Oasis fans that seemingly still flock to Virgin when a new album comes out and, incredibly, have their heroes on the front of this month's issue of Q. Are they still popular? Do people still go to see their bland rock and Liam's mournful expression plastered around a harmonica? Tis a mystery I don't have the resources to solve.

Anyway - mud! I am going to a mud festival this weekend with the Canadian Boyfriend, Shaun, Annabelle, Cara and a whole host of others who are willingly going to roll around in the 'mineral rich' muck. It is on a beach, 30 degree heat has been forecast and there will be a rich vein of activities, including mud wrestling and - well, there's others but I have forgotten. What other activities can there be, anyway? Could you fetch an apple out between your teeth from a barrel of mud? How about face painting? I am perplexed but have been assured by muddy veterans that it is immense fun.

Also - Mike has been co-erced into coming into Ireland and he shall be gracing the green shores with his presence hopefully sometime in February. With him, he shall most likely bring his special brand of humour, many anecdotes about the dams that beavers built, some tips on what Warhammer pieces should be purchased - 'The plastic ones are the best!' and a fresh naivete which I plan to take advantage of. Yay!