24th
0063
Upon leaving uni today I realised I’m too tired to walk to Morrisons. I had to stand by Holloway Road tube station for a while before I managed to move, and even then I was more of a zombie than a thinking member of public. I’m about to fall asleep at the computer. I believe this is what they call deflation.
Anyways, the Weekend was fantastic. I flew in a day early to have a short, albeit fruitful poke around Amsterdam, and it is ACE. Seriously, what a charming little city that is! Too bad Dutch is the single most ugly tongue I’ve had the misfortune to hear. Seriously, it sounds like German that’s smoked too much weed. Anyway, the Weekend itself was quite an adventure, with three Marillion gigs - one for each night, and constant Marillion talk, hearing it blasting from every cottage window, seeing flags and posters all over the place. It was a surreal experience, and I’m not entirely sure I want to repeat it come 2011. Why? Well, while it was a great adventure, the sight of some 1500 old, fat, balding, middle-aged men desperately trying to reclaim their youth just depressed me. True, the other 1500 weren’t as bad, but they were either the aforementioned old, fat men’s wives, their children or a small group of people that were either closer to our age group, or seemed less pathetic. Maybe if we (myself plus Alex, my long-term gig companion) had been with more of our mates it would have been different.
Right, bed beckons.
