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Well, after a while we got playing Bomberman Tournament, which was much more fun for me at least. As I'm so wicked awesome at Bomberman, Neil not particularly, and the computer player not responsive to malice, Nicholas had it in for me, but that's the way multiplayers work. I love multiplayer games; it's just odd that in this day and age a console is practically required. If you can be bothered with such things, a PC usually supports one joystick, which sucks big-style. On the amiga you had two ports standard, which could be either mouse or joystick. Plus, they just slotted in and worked which is a kind of Plug-and-play feature worth commenting on rather than being ashamed of. Anyway, I rock.
After a while it dawned on me that I had no news on whether or not Shirley was going to sing tomorrow, though she had been asked. I texted Dad at New Wine to find out. "No." quoth he textually and then phoned me five times to tell me that he had a bad signal and couldn't hear me. I would definitely have stopped after the third attempt. Inbetween these I sorted things out, and the upshot of it was that I went round to Shirley and Stuart's and practised the songs there. It went passably and then I was offered cheese on toast, which I hadn't actually had for a while, so I concurred. There was some white stuff on it that I was very curious about. Celery salt apparently. I've never heard of such a thing! Very exciting. How does one make salt from celery? The mind boggles.
When I got back, ended up watching one of those chart shows. I believe it was the best-selling singles of all time to commemorate 50 years of the
