I got up at a time I didn't even know existed this morning but was immediately thwarted by the lack of hot water in our flat. Sadly I'm one of those people who can't even consider greeting a day without a piping hot bath first, but the boiler in our flat is either very old, very rubbish, very mean or incredibly bitter about something, so will only periodically deliver the necessary goods. Today wasn't a good day in that respect.
...Cut to me, just before 8am this morning, attempting to boil water in whatever receptacle I could get my hands on which included three saucepans on the hob, a kettle and a bowl in the microwave. It became a rather interesting experiment to see which would boil first. The kettle, unsurprisingly, did its job most efficiently, whereas the bowl of water in the microwave was bitterly disappointing. Fifteen minutes of heating, and still no sign of any decent heat!
The resulting bath was, as you might expect, very disappointing. It was lukewarm at best, I was forced to lie on a bed of limescale which had fallen out of the kettle, and there were bits of food floating around from one of the pans which I'd plainly not washed thoroughly enough. I felt like a dumpling in a casserole!
Aren't bulbs extraordinary things? We had a hyacinth. I think it was a hyacinth. Hilary gave it to us for Christmas two years ago. It flourished and was spectacular in our kitchen window for weeks. When it died, for some reason, probably because we're slovens, the bulb just sat there, staring at us, looking miserable for the best part of a year... But suddenly it's sprouting again! Perhaps it will even flower. It might end up being all the flowers I get this Valentine's day, with Nathan doing a concert in Grimsby tonight of all places. Ever since losing a court case to a choir from Lincolnshire, I've refused to acknowledge that particular county's existence as anything other than somewhere you drive through feeling a little nauseous!
I find myself a little concerned about my god mother (or atheist equivalent thereof). Unfortunately she's been battling with cancer over the last few months and my parents have just rushed off to Shropshire to see her. I can't think the news will be good but I pray to the universe that whatever happens is for the best.
I had a meeting this afternoon, down in Kentish Town, with the head of arts at Channel 4, who I like enormously and seems to be really championing our work. I played him some early drafts of some of the songs on my computer, and he's plainly musical enough to be able to appreciate them without getting confused by the tinny, synth sounds of music software. He loved the demo we recorded with Llio and took it away with him to enthuse other C4 types.
In the absence of time for a run, I walked from Kentish Town up to Highgate, skirting around the edge of the Heath. It's incredibly blustery and I didn't feel entirely safe wandering underneath the trees.
I've never known a time like this for successive gales, although I'm slightly comforted by the thought that Haringey, after Islington, is thought to be the least likely London borough to be affected by flooding. Small mercies. Perhaps the chap from UKIP is onto something when he suggests the floods are the result of the wrath of God regarding gay marriages. If I were thinking of tying the knot, I'm sure Haringey would already be under ten feet of water...