So I said I love the Futureheads. Today I read the back of the guardian music mag, and saw that they have re-released the lp with a free dvd. Good. I think it's nice when a band are little and people buy their music - buy, not download, and then they get big big big and they give all the new people who like them now because edith bowman likes them now a dvd and i don't get a dvd.
I'm 33, have a full time job with great responsibility and potential, two children of my own, a ridiculously healthy and fulfilling lifestyle and I'm bitching because I want a dvd of the Futureheads.
I ran for 15 miles. I have a great new gps speed and distance heart rate monitor with an irritating feature. The light button is the same as the off button. Imagine me this evening, clad in skin tight lycra, pummelling away through the sunset with the mantra "I am the elite, I am the elite," fueling my 7.42 min/mile pace, beating my virtual partner by 250 ft and feeling generally good. Then I hold down my "light" button and turn off my watch, cancelling all my stats 1/3 of the way into my run. My mantra changed to fuck it, fuck fuck fuck - and it became audible. I seamlessly morph from Paul Radcliffe to mental beardy bloke, hobbling around clutching at his wrist and swearing in the flick of a switch. Still, I ran 15 miles. I am the elite. I am the elite.
Elly brought me some gloves at the boot sale. I got a flumps video and showed it to her this afternoon when I wanted another half hour sleep. I thought they'd be better after a few years absence, but no, they are worse. Animation consists of arm movements only. One song was about clouds, and during this Elly asked me to turn it off. She even started reading her books throughout the last episode. Elly usually puts the T in Telly. The Flumps are the antidote. Also got a door hanging bouncer and a lot of books.