Feeling a bit put out.

Post-event Elucidation: Initially, I should state that Mum took the first opportunity to apologise, and I am not currently seething with rage. Our church is somewhat starved of musicians, so I make a point of chipping in whenever I can - for the past two years I think actually. When I'm not there, there is a nice man whom men call Alan who plays the keyboard, but he can't be there every week. When neither of us is there, there is an old keyboard which plays midi files which they use. As you may well imagine, this is awful, and to be avoided. Okay. Well, you know how I blogged that I was practising those songs yesterday (I'm updating this on Sunday)? It was a large waste of time because my servivces were not required, so I could've been in bed, or doing course work or other things that I'd like to have done after a week of doing very unrewarding work. Mum sorts out the worship every week, and usually puts it up on the notice board. She had not done so this week, so I didn't know that Alan wasn't going to be here. In Mum's mind, this implied that the keyboard was going to have to be used. I said that I would play, but she said that it had all been arranged already. I wasn't very happy. I wouldn't have minded, but the implication that they'd be better off with that cruddy keyboard across as something of an insult. Bah.

I was running through the songs for church tomorrow on the acoustical guitar. This bothered me, not because I share the intolerance of James and Andy for all music in an evangelical stylee, but because of two words, on quite a few songs: "With feeling".

Okay, say a musician plays as an act of worship to God, and with feeling - all to the good. However, to have the book in front of you dictate it is just idiotic. Obviously if you're not "feeling" very Romans 12:11 it's very worth paying some mind to, but trying to conjure up passion as and when - daft. I suppose most people just ignore these things anyway of course, or don't need encouraging, but still.

When I compile my No. 1 best-selling Worship Music to Wind Andy and James Right Up: Volume 1, I will of course be sure to leave helpful worship instructions, like "With insincerity" and "With sneering contempt" to aid my strumming progeny in their quest for authenticity.

Shortly after waking up, the phrase "ineluctable modality of being" popped into my head. I believe it's from Ulysses. I remember not knowing what it meant, but not bothering to look it up. I think it's stuck in my head because its such a nice-sounding phrase, dinner-partyesque:

BUTLER Ferrero Rocher?
ME No thanks, I couldn't. I'm afraid I have a touch of the ineluctable modality of being.

Neil got back yesterday apparently, and I have seen him this morning. I believe he's back for the Easter break now. He, Mum and Dad all had a good laugh at my T-shirt, which in my first year was ubiquitous. Will and Paul should know the one I mean. Now it comprises mostly of holes. I'm going to go back to bed now. Have fun.

Recognition: the dream of the artist. Today, at work, Calvin rather randomly said that he'd heard good things about me from management. This came as something as a surprise. I can't imagine many ways in which I might be distinguishing myself from the other workers, given that trained monkeys could conceivably do the same work. Perhaps it's just the pace: Anyone blessed with the opportunity of watching either myself of Will walk without the limiting factor of company will know that we are rapid chaps. When I do work for cash, I usually think to myself of Colossians 3:22-5. I'm sure it's not applicable only to slaves. It occurred to me afterwards that in a dystopian future, the recognition of management would be the logical cue to illicit scientific experimentation on my person, starting down a path that would ultimately lead to me slashing prices with my adamantium claws.

Shane worried me today. His taste in films was wearisome, but the worst part was that he revealed he owned The Phantom Menace on DVD. "Didn't you like it?", he said. Spooky.

I got the boots. They're alright, but they look really dull. I may attempt to give them a lustrous sheen this evening.

Just going out now. Richard phoned again. A further item on the shopping list is now steel toe-capped footwear. I had been borrowing a pair, two pairs actually, neither of which were the correct size, from Workbase, but apparently they weren't meant to do that. I was rather expecting him to find this out at some point. I fear Richard will get the sack one of these days. He always looks completely bewildered whenever he has to do any work.

Mum and Dad have come back from the fish shop with tropical fish. I correctly divined that some of the new fish were tetras of some variety. "Rosy", says Mum.

Good morning. Theoretically today is payday, though some of my colleagues were doomsaying yesterday, saying we'd probably get cheques and have to wait practically another week for pay. I think it's just pessimism though, so I'm going to town confident that I will be able to get back into credit on my current plus account and then finally top up my phone. If I waited until July, apparently I could have £5 credit free*, but I guess I'll pass. Apparently, some time ago I applied for an increase on my overdraft. Natwest just told me I've had it since the 18th of March.

I was notified of a blood donor session in the post this morning. The fact that I get sent notifications from both Exeter and from Camberley always confuses me, as I can never be sure when I last gave blood, but due to the wonder of blogging this time I am. Unfortunately I still have to work with the rather unwieldly figure of 12/16 weeks. Now what's that divided by four.... No, they'll have to wait. Drat.

I do not ignore my phone for weeks at a time ill have you know especially now i have a new one that has a working battery and doesnt switch itself off e

very time [someone calls]

says Emma. Well, that's me told. On the subject of phones, someone has left me an answerphone message on my mobile. It'll probably be Mum or Dad, they're the usual suspects. I don't like answerphone messages on my mobile, because it costs me money to listen to them. Currently I don't have enough credit to do this. When I do, I think I'll change my answerphone message to "Please don't leave me any answerphone messages." if I can.

On the minibus back tonight, I heard an apalling thing. Our driver, without exception, puts on a tape containing soul music on when we drive back to Camberley. For all I know he listens to happy hardcore on the Basingstoke leg, but everytime I'm in the minibus - soul. This I can usually cope with, but tonight, he achieved aural decimation. The offending article was a soul cover of "Somewhere" from West Side Story. I can't really convey the awfulness of it, but I can say that the verse was sung over the opening riff to "Cool" which was a patently stupid idea, and even when it got more sensibly arranged, it ran the gamut of every rubbish soul cliche available to leave the listener with a soggy mess of a once noble track. On the plus side, I got dropped off nearer to home than might be expected.

Right, well I shall read 'Tis Pity in the bath.

My very own copy of Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals has finally arrived at Blackwell's. I should be able to visit it in two and a bit weeks.

As I whiled away so much time yesterday, I thought I'd do some things before blogging today. So far, all this has meant is that I've tidied my room and changed my sheets. I may start reading 'Tis Pity She's a Whore before work too, but it's not looking as likely as it might be. My GBA was running out of steam from playing Chu Chu Rocket so I drained the batteries by leaving it on in my room so that I could recharge it later. I think this may have led to Nick putting some music on. He was autoshuffling his way through a compilation of world music and Take Five - I think that's the name of the album.

You know when you get instant coffee, it comes with kind of a paper seal, that one is compelled to pop with the back of a teaspoon or whatever, because it makes a satisfying noise? We got a new jar of chocolate spread with one of those. Nicholas, peeling back the label, says he hates "these kinds of lids" because "you have to peel them off".

Natwest sent me a questionnaire. "It should only take a few minutes to" throw it in the bin.

Hmm, no archiving. Anyway, literature...

My day off has been quite nice so far. I did nothing for ages, but I did it out of bed, because... well I don't know why.

I hung around until Nicholas got back from college, so we could go to town to do various things. I went to Workbase and told Richard that I was only working until next Friday (if my grey cells haven't dissolved by then), then found out that I'm still not in credit, so I couldn't buy everything I wanted to. I just bought myself a new watch instead. It seems to be a Casio W-34H. Somewhat atypically, I have not read the manual yet. Nick came for his own reasons; to pick up some French newspapers from Smiths (not possible), get a new walkman, some DVDs and a GBA link-cable. The DVDs he bought were The Seven Samurai and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The former I think superb, the latter rather good. I was badgering him to get Metropolis and Strictly Ballroom, but the cad displayed independence of mind.

When we got back I showed him "a choice selection" of Strong Bad e-mails. He'd been to www.homestarrunner.com before, but made the rookie mistake of watching the main cartoons rather than looking at the e-mails. My highlights comprised trevor the vampire, superhero name, website, japanese cartoon and, that apex of all things strong and bad, dragon. A brief connection of GBAs ensued in which we played about two rounds of "Green Beret" off Konami Arcade Advance and then "Yie-ar-kung-fu!" which was more awesome than I was expecting as a two player.

Mum asked me at some point in the day whether Adrian had told me when he was planning on visiting. I replied that I did not know. I contacted Adrian through two very uncertain media to tell him that I was around in holy week; in a comments box and by text to Emma's phone, which she has been known to ignore for weeks at a time. Anyway, should you read this, let us know will you?

I got round to telling Vicki and Mary about my blog via e-mail, and Vicki reminded me of her site, which is a collection of essays and other things. It's a bit blog-like in that the essays are listed by date. She also said that my blog had "a very nice design" which was itself, a very nice thing to say.

Nicholas has gone out to play three notes* in the Collingwood production of My Fair Lady.

Good morning. Day off today! Whoo! Which is why I spent so much of last night adding simple things, like a Bloglet form and archive pages. I think everything's back to normal now after Blogger weirdified my template, screwing up all things timestamp. Obviously the fact that no-one could comment overnight is the reason that no-one did. Obviously. Have pleasant days, I'm going to get some breakfast, and relish a whole day of clean clothes and daylight.

Nick knocked on my door early today again. He looked a bit sheepish, but it wasn't half so early, so I didn't obliterate him. He wanted to know if I had seen Neil's link-cable so he could play GBA games at college with some other guy. What a concept! If only it were possible for us to link our GBAs together in Exeter with a £1 4-way cable from Poundland for example.

I found a thing on the interweb called Bloglet. Apparently it sends blog entries by electrical mail, so that you don't have to check them by going to the site. This sounded splendid, so I've signed up. I soon found, however, that you can only get entries from people who have signed up. Ah well, hopefully some people who's blogs I want to read will sign up in time. Till then, I suppose you could make do with mine.