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november 8th

Current levels of conviction in own genius: 7
Amount of creative activity achiveived in last 24 hours: 0
Hair Day: Greasy unwashed hair befitting sickly pale invalid

Gagh. Bit ill with fatigue-making bug most probably caught from pesky germ-riddled kids at school. Have been using time stapled under sweaty duvet to do half-hearted PhD work and, more excitingly, complete proposal for girl-who-loves-football book, with the 'hilarious' provisional title of Fever Bitch. Oh yes. It's meant that I've been sinking slowly back into the unglamorous world of Coca-Cola Championship League 2 (oh, it's soooo silly, Division 3 sounds so much more salt-of-the-earth and much less ITV), and following the fortunes of my blue-beloveds, Wycombe Wanderers. And by jove, if the sagging form of recent years hasn't gone and taken an upturn: yesterday we wrestled the top spot from Grimsby's slippery grasp and are currently, along with Chelsea, the only unbeaten team in professional football. Get in!!!

Have been very gig-less of late, though did take a chance on seeing The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players (the self-proclaimed 'only indie-vaudeville cult Americana conceptual rock-slideshow act in town') at Bloomsbury UCL the other week. They're an intruiging trio, comprising skinny stylistically over-stuttering, wordy dad, plumper Daphne-in-Scooby-Doo-a-like mom and punky, hair-bunched 11-year old daughter on drums. They go round car boot sales collecting boxes of family slides which seem to capture middle America just so (it's amazing how many pictures were of huge plates of meat), and then create daft, squeaky rock songs around various sequences. Whilst it was completely unique and often very very witty, it somehow lacked a little substance for me; maybe I just wanted more slides of 1960s barbecues...