Wednesday

I've decided today that from Friday I'm going to try and up the ante and do two daily blogs. This'll be tricky as I'm finding keeping this one updated every day can sometimes elude me - and inevitably there will be days where it just can't be done; but having an entry for each day is an achievable goal, even if it means a few days of catch-up in one go every now and again.

The reason is that, of course, the World Cup starts on Friday and I want to have as good a record of my experience of it as possible. I also want to revive Who Are Ya?! which has been ignored in the last 3 months in favour of thinking about my Book Project which is coming along as slowly as ever. So in order to keep this blog and the World Cup separate, I'm going to try and update both every day for the duration of the tournament. Should be fun.

Anyway, today sees me attempt to get started on the writing portion of the sales kit, become constantly hamstrung by a printer who likes to eat its own insides - forcing me to fanny around opening Unit 6 doors and sector 3a and turning knob 9b and trying manfully to convince the thing that it hasn't, in fact, got a jam any more and should bloody well get on with the job of printing - and generally find time slipping away faster than I could really do with.

Back at home, I get on with editing last Wednesday's podcast. I'm getting concerned that it's been a long time (relatively speaking) since we record it, but other than the fact that Rio Ferdinand is out of the squad with injury, none of the facts will become dated before I put in online (hopefully) tomorrow night. It was, it is clear now, a rambling, unstructured podcast - and it shows in how long it's taking to edit down. It might also end up being longer than the hour I try to aim for, but then I suppose it is a bumper end-of-season review and World Cup preview effort.

K gets back at around 9 and, after playing a bit more of the surprisingly addictive Blur on the XBox, we sit down to watch Youth in Revolt, which appears to be yet another super-indie Michael Cera vehicle. And that's what it is - though the writing is clever and the unfortunately typecast Cera gets to flex his skills a little more than he has in the endless series of gawky-teenager indie movies he's done over the last 3 or 4 years. I do wonder how much longer we have to buy that he's 16, however.