Now that's out the way, today is my birthday, and you join me sat on my parents' sofa in the company of my brothers with half an eye on Doctor Who. They're giving Doctor Who a massive push over in the US currently for BBC America, with one column I read recently asking whether Doctor Who is the new Lost (a question which can only be answered with the phrases "no" and "don't be silly").
Anyway, thanks for all the birthday wishes. Several people have called it "dirty thirty", the temptation to rhyme clearly being too much for them to resist, whereas the amount of vodka consumed last night means hurty thirty would be far more appropriate.
This weekend will be now spent recovering and doing all the important pre-tour stuff; rehearsing, laundry, packing ready for the departure to Stockton on Monday. I'm a homebody through and through so I'm nervous to be stepping up to this challenge as the tour bus won't be anywhere near Reading for a good three weeks, but my trepidation is matched by my excitement. And my hangover.
This is due largely to an evening spent in the company of long-standing companion Kev of  radio and Barry aka Oxygen Thief, which began with an intellectual debate on the merits of AV vs. FPTP and soon descended into death metal covers of TV commercial jingles.
For the record, I voted 'No' despite all the hip celebrities going the other way, but honestly, I really don't see how AV would have changed anything. The arguments of those opposed to me are that it would help the smaller parties and help break England out of the two-party system of FPTP, but I'm not convinced by the logic. And so we danced (for not long enough) and drank (for too long) and then watched some Hill Street Blues and other such late-night TV treats, if by 'treats' you actually mean 'shit'. Then I ate some chips.
So that's it. The next time I see some of you, it'll be on tour, and hopefully I'll see some of you there.