How is it already Thursday?!! Possibly something to do with hurting my back rushing to the terminal with my lovely new-to-me orange suitcase (60s suitcases: look cool; a little less so when you're wincing and shuffling along while people smugly overtake you with their flashy wheeled ones. By the time I reached customs, I couldn't lift my arm to put my carry-on on the conveyer belt and had to swing it up like a crazy person, and spent the first twenty minutes of my flight unable to bend to get the panadol from my bag, able only to sit with one shoulder about a metre lower than the other, mouthing swear-words) and having a disgusting cold. We head back up to Auckland in a couple of hours (although I have been banned from using said suitcase). I feel as if I should be wrapped in bandages, with my arms stretched in front of me.
Anyway, the song. I really like Art Brut. I like how they take the piss, but are also completely serious about what they're saying. It's well to have this kind of outlook when you're under the weather; it makes it all seem a little easier to bear. Bad backs. Old loves. Etc.
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