As I am writing this in the UK, it is now 00:01 on the 16th of February, 2002. So far, nothing has happened. I actually wrote this at 23:54 on the 15th, but I've waited until now to post it. In the 60 seconds between 00:00 and 00:01 I felt slightly ill from eating too many biscuits, and I also contemplated going off to make a drink. But I didn't, I wrote this instead. I type at 70 words per minute and you could probably make a computerised simulation of my actions as I wrote this, the pauses and the typing and so forth.

In a moment I will listen to Charles Wright and the 103rd Watts Street Rhythm Bands' 'Express Yourself' again. Uh. Yeah. Lord. Uh. Then I will try to download something by Isaac Hayes.

I was just thinking - if Isaac Hayes was French and a chair, would we call him 'Isaac Chaise'? Yes, I think we would.

Well, what did you expect? Some boring stuff about relationships?