I was walking up the stairs the other night (at about 4am actually); it was very quiet and I could hear creaking and I thought That's funny, only every second stair is creaking. I wonder why. A couple of nights later I realised that it was my fucking knee! Fuck. I get the odd twinge, but the noise is kinda sick making. It feels too trivial to go to the doctor about and perhaps I should just start quaffing the cod liver oil.

I went for a cycle this evening for the first time in about a year (and much longer before that). Erk. Wheezeville. But at least my knee held out.

Life is keeping on keeping on. Roisin is taking up much of our time but doesn't interfere too much with sleep. I mean, obviously she does a bit, but not too much. She smiled at Sally the other night (allegedly) but not at me yet. She'll be sorry when it comes time for pocket money.

Easter and the annual choco-fest has come and gone and the clocks have gone forward and it's daylight when I get home. Sally and I will be 39 this year and this combined with my creaky knee is a little depressing. I really don't want to get all clichéd and get all midlife-crises-y (and I mean, really I don't), but it is beginning to feel like I am now the old dog that will never learn a new trick.

My reading time has taken a battering and I haven't had any time to do any of the music related stuff I wanted to either. The problem with all that stuff, is that it's all a bit solitary. I can't concentrate to read when in the company of others and I can't inflict my music on others who might be trying to concentrate on their own thing. So when I do take time to do any of that stuff, I feel a bit guilty.

I should really stop playing No-one Live Forever though. That's solitary and mindless.

My zonked out girlie. One month old tomorrow. Bless.