I think I smell of curry.
Found on Unlucky Friend’s dining table: millions of small bits of soggy paper. He had washed his driving license in his jeans pocket. We drank Guinness last night, and talked writing and music.
Listened to a rarities DVD by the Doves. The Doves are terrific – they’re what I wish Pink Floyd had turned in to. Talked more music, borrowed the DVD.
I’m sure I smell of curry.
Got home. Realised that I do not posess a DVD player. Read the liner notes.