You're the one who looks right through me, now you're saying that you knew me...when I was invisible.

The air needed this rain so badly, the world was starting to get stinky. I worked out the other day that 21 degrees C is the perfect temperature. Not cold enough for extra layers, not hot enough to break a sweat. Anything higher is just wrong. Sick and wrong.

I think I might be on my way up and out of the nigh-on 2 year funk that i've been in. Last night I realised that there is more to life than the old man's pub down the street and made it my mission to go and have a few drinks on the beach. For a long time I've (we've, to include 90% of my local friends) been telling myself that i'm out of Brighton's target audience age and that I'm over clubs and jazzy bars. I may have been wrong. Last night came the first recognisable pangs for some excitement involving somewhere other than the Battle Of Trafalgar. And I did it. I sat on the beach with friends and drank a few glasses (ok, disposable plastic cups) of wine and soaked up the atmosphere on the beach.

OK, so not the most exciting news ever but it was the first thing i've noticed myself have any real enthusiasm for, and put in the slightest effort for, for a very long time.