¡No hablo Espanol!

I've got behind on myself again, haven't I? It seems like it was at least a month ago that I was lazing by a swimming pool and overheating in the Spanish sun. It's hard to believe I haven't even been back in the country for two weeks, although I've secretly already started plotting my next break. Maybe next time I should try for a country where I can actually speak a bit of the language, for all the use my phrase book was (note to self: being able to use a phrase you looked up earlier that day does not mean you will be able to understand the reply). Embarrassing touristy point-and-hope-for-the-best conversations aside, it was mostly just good to have the time away from Cambridge to relax with Simon and some mates, and to not have to do anything if we didn't feel like it.

It feels now like I've been back at work forever. It's depressing to be driving home in the rain watching the dark creeping up, and to be having email conversations with my friends about Christmas - and what with my weekend duty and Simon's packed-out week of shows, it feels as though we've hardly seen each other at all in the last week. In fact, I think we need a holiday...

All Trucked out

Truck finally happened! After a two-month delay and the worst summer I can remember weather-wise, I was expecting good things, and I wasn't disappointed. Okay, so it wasn't the best line-up ever, and there were some bad bits - such as Simon managing to catch some sort of stomach bug that knocked him out for most of Saturday, but Truck still managed to be one of the highlights of my year so far.

Low points: Simon being ill; some odd timetabling decisions (Blood Red Shoes and Foals in the Trailer Park tent?) that led to Foals being pulled early Saturday evening; the irritating man who was shouting loudly while I was trying to sleep; having to get out of bed at 6am on Monday to peg the tent down again after the wind threatened to blow us away.

High points: Fonda 500 generally being ace and even managing to bring out the sun; opera in the pub on Sunday night; Foals being rescheduled and the audience getting a wee bit excited; the irritating man shouting "I am a stereotypical festival cunt!" loudly and thus redeeming himself partially; not having to sleep in the stewards' marquee after our tent stayed put.

More of the same again next year, please. Just without the illness.

I would also like to mention, mainly as a way of reminding myself in about six months' time, that I have my first hangover since about March after drinking more wine than I meant to yesterday. This is exactly why I stopped drinking much in the first place... lemonade for me tonight, then.

Tomorrow I will be mostly packing for a week in Spain. Spain! Where the sun is shining! Full report to follow.