Late for me own birthday, this one. Not only did I notice that I missed marking my second anniversary of Morrissey-solo journalism, I was going to post an entry on my birthday - my address to the nation, if you will - and I didn't. Although that was through choice in the end, rather than through force.

Anyway, I "celebrated" my birthday by studying. It was rather poor this year, although I don't suppose being nineteen is anything to be excited about these days. However, I shall go out this evening, because I now have stitches to wear (my Strangeways t-shirt and my TQID hoodie arrived on my birthday, strangely enough! - incidentally, TOTP2 decided to show "Boy With The Thorn..." on my birthday as well - was it planned?) and I shall go out and get royally rat-arsed.

Not a lot has happened other than that. I had a lunch with people from PricewaterhouseCoopers today, who presented me with an award for my achievements of the previous year. Who knows, maybe they'll give me a job. I've let my hair grow to ridiculous lengths; when I shave, it looks even worse. I don't have much time to get my hair cut, though.

I did go to see The Thrills in the end. They were rather good, although I only really knew "Big Sur" and "Santa Cruz", which I thought was the best song in their set. I may go and see "The Complete Stone Roses" and Fleetwood Mac soon, coupled (or tripled) with my Radiohead gig in late November.

So, that is about it, my faithful reader. Thanks to Higgy and...well, Higgy, for remembering my birthday. I must now go for a bath to get the stink out (that is not a phrase used for purposes other than the obvious), and prepare myself for a night of hot loving. Or drinking.