Now and again it seems worse than it is, but mostly the view is accurate
2002-08-29 || 8:36 a.m.

I've just eaten a bowl of porridge. My obsession with porridge leads to a lot of porridge wars in this house. It is not unknown for me and Rebecca to be fighting over whether the porridge actually gets to go in the shopping trolley, when we, horror of horrors, run out.

Its funny how what you see has an affect on what you taste. I just opened a new bag of brown sugar but it wasn't the same consistency as the last - it was too fine;it looked like cinnamon. I hate cinnamon. As I sprinkled the sugar over I could taste and smell the vile stuff and the porridge did not taste its best.

Anyway, porridge is not really what I want to write about. Hmmm, what shall I write about? I could write that my head is being really fucked about with at the moment. I could write that the space bar on my damn keyboard is sticking and I have to type nearly every word twice which is a pain. I can't sleep at night. At all. I passed the time last night thinking about what I could write in my diary but now I've forgotten it all. I went to bed last night and played 'Fevers and Mirrors' and Rebecca heard it and came in and she ended up sleeping in my bed so I just had to lie in the dark all night, wide awake. Rebecca is one sunny, happy child at the moment. She spent the whole of yesterday morning moping under a sleeping bag on the sofa because all the venues that Bright Eyes is playing in this country are over 18's. However, some damn fine phone calls courtesy of her mother have meant I've persuaded Brighton Komedia to let me take her and Eleanor. I told them I was a fine upstanding citizen - a teacher no less. Oh yeah, and I told them that Rebecca and Eleanor were 16.

Music should be available to all, that's what I think. You shouldn't be able to exclude people purely on age. If you want to drink at the bar and get pissed then for fuck's sake GO TO A PUB.