So, a certain medoperdo and her chum Tash paid me (and Scotland, but more importantly me) a visit last weekend/Tuesday. It was brief but by no means fleeting and seemingly gave them a taste for the place. More time to indulge in the many vices of the city would've been great, but there's talk of another visit in the summer, so soon, my love. Soon.

Yesterday I attended my mate Rhiannon's flat-warming party. I drank a quarter bottle of vodka with the aforementioned orange and on my arrival home proceeded to puke four to five times. One of which being in the clear Fopp shopping back that is acting as my bedroom's bin. My love affair with that drink is officially over.