Bad news for my Sudoku withdrawal therapy. At the height of my addiction, I was on about nine a day. Well, I say nine. I mean 1 in the top right, 5 in the middle center and 3 bottom left.
So what do they come up with but Killer Sudoku?
Actually, it's maybe not so bad that they make them harder and harder. One less thing to waste my life on.
30th birthday for some of Jo's friends on Friday. Theme of the party: "Dress as what you wanted to be when you were ten". That pretty much only leaves me with Dr Who or Adam Ant.
Scarf, bought off a woman on eBay called weesweetpea (I paid a bit over the odds, but never mind), the rest from fancy dress shop. I don't think I can pull off the Tom Baker face, mind, although the chins are quite good for Colin Baker.
Should be lovely and cosy on one of the hottest days of the year.
Someone has pointed out to me that this pic looks like Jon Culshaw, which is fair enough as I think we both come from around the same part of the country. Here's a comparison shot.
The acknowledgement letter I got from the BBC for Flee From Cleveleys, Flee From Cleavage in 1993. 
The script was actually read by Kate Rowland (now a big cheese in the BBC's new creative writing dept.) and she later sent me a very polite, quite justified, rejection letter.
Although I don't recall the exact details it said something about "sparky" dialogue, which was nice, and "won't stretch to a series", which wasn't. She was, of course, absolutely right about the last bit. It didn't even stretch to a 37 page script.
The biography sheet which accompanied demo tapes sent out by the Innocent Piglets to record companies in 1989. Written by my own fair hand, I dare say. This would've been back in the day when I was a Steven as opposed to a Steve.
I think I started being a Steve when I got to university. There's something matey about it. Steven is more formal, more suited to the poet I figured I was going to be. Worse still, when I ran into one of my old Scout leaders (even though I'm grown up now) he still called me "Bez". That was weird.
Note the important credited influence of Miranda Richardson. Something I'd forgotten for a long time is that the band were named after one of the characters in After Pilkington, a BBC 2 film from 1987. Indeed, some of the lines in Everlasting Bonfire (itself a nod to Shakespeare - how literate I was!), were lifted straight from the dialogue. Talent borrows, genius steals!
None of this original line-up have died (at the time of writing) you'll be pleased to read. Stewart is doing exciting things in the field of chemistry up in York (and still plays in a band that wears school uniforms) and Sarah now makes award-winning documentaries.
This is a sheet of lyrics written for the band I was in 1988-90. These were printed out in the school computer lab. The first draft of at least one of these songs (the masterful Buttercups), I think, was written on the school bus.
Note coy remarks made by Stewart, the band's guitarist and musician, in blue ball-pen. These are the two songs that were sent to Rough Trade records on a demo tape.
A brush with fame. Back when I worked on the web site for V Graham Norton, I persuaded the models who accompanied the guests down onto the stage to pose for various shots. One of these was the lovely Sarah Reeves, below right.
Sarah's turned up a lot since. She is also the face of UK Online broadband (you might have seen the posters).
I swear I've seen her on the telly advertising JML ironing board covers too.
So tonight she appears as the mysterious "Janet Dobbinson" on C4's Kill Me If You Can docudrama.
If you want to employ Sarah, you should get in touch with her agent, although that could be either Base Models, or Absolute Models, or Elliott Brown. Or all three.
She is lovely, by the way.
