Equerries Valued by No One,

These are simpler times. It feels as if the cloud overshadowing our lives has rained itself out. Nothing remains of The Canadian’s visit except the flat rechargeable batteries for the digital camera I had loaned to him. I missed out on a cracking photo opportunity today; not the albino starling, but a silly arty shot of a brae, a street sign and Fife life. Of course, the quality of The Canadian’s photos, which he emailed back home, made my inconvenience worthwhile. They were all pictures of The Canadian against nondescript backgrounds, in front of a field, a road, a wall. None of them are like Father Dougal’s. Whilst I was working at my desk, he interrupted to ask me to take one of him; of course, I asked where he’d like me to take it, he replied, “Just here.”, ergo he has one of him framed simply by my doorway. He never took any photos of us to show his folks back home.

I still have plenty of complaints about The Canadian; about how he kept talking in an exaggerated Scottish accent, about how he kept interrupting me in my work to ask how to spell words, about how he kept kissing the Union Jack in front of me, about how he laughed like Muttley at the most immature things, about how he yearned to see Sectarian violence during his holiday. I’m trying to stop.

The only problem caused by The Canadian's departure is that other people's flaws become apparent. Sometimes I become frustated living with this family, I feel like I'm the one looking after them rather than the other way around. Some of the blunders that occur would never take place under my regime. The fridge is full of cheese.

I went out on a proper walk this morning before the bad weather moved in, sometimes I need to here the sea crash against the rocks. The brae, created by isostacy, had to be scaled on the way home.

I did waste too much time watching videos of Jeffrey Lewis gigs on YouTube. It’s part of the build-up for tomorrow night’s gig at the Bongo Club.

I did do a few hours work in my new office, the kitchen, before heading out into the storm to play football. Wearing jogging pants would be giving in but I did wear two t-shirts under my strip and gloves, which hampered my throw-ins (throw-ins are my best skill). We won 2-1 and are now through to the next round of the cup, which is bad because it means we will have to go out into another winter evening to play again.

I returned to watch The Music Show, which has King Creosote playing three songs live in the studio, they’re great. Afterwards, I bought some CDs on t’internet because I need some new stuff to amuse me, I’ve ordered up albums by Saint Jude’s Infirmary, Union of Knives and The Singleman Affair as well as the single by Poppy and the Jezebels. Some of these might be bad choices.