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Earphones in to drown out the pub, which is currently full of weird old men ogling the women’s long jump event on sports TV. The camera at the end of the sandpit, you see, is set at arse level. A gurgling beery cheer is going up every time a pair of athletic bumcheeks rub up against the lens.

Home alone for the next few days. I’ll sling some music up when I get home, and probably do the Open Mic thing on LiveJournal tonight.

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