Bouncing Back

I had one of those bad days yesterday. There's nothing worse than when a thonglateer has a bad back -- I blame helping Gabby carry a couple of goats to her allotment over the weekend -- but when added to a bad mood, there can only be tears before breakfast. It explains why I sat around in the flat wearing a pair of Y-fronts.

Listening to Patti Smith kept me sane. I can't say enough good things about Ms. Smith. So enjoy it, if New York punk is your thing, while I sit down, contemplate another odd morning, and try to put it all into words.

(Edit: I forgot to mention, you should turn your speakers on full to really appreciate this...)