Thursday, 8 January 2015

The City of London has a beautiful hot air balloon

And all the bankers in the City are fighting over it. (City A.M. has the details.) 'Why?' Because they want to fly away, obviously. I know how they feel.

Love is waiting there. 'Where?' In the beautiful balloon. I'm pretty sure the world's a nicer place in the beautiful balloon.

It's the end of the week. Don't worry about me, dear reader(s). / Pub tomorrow. I need a drink - or ten. Down by the river.


Microphone? Yeah, I've got my new microphone, but it's a piece of shit. So, it's back to the drawing board, I'm afraid. / I'll just have to stick with my old one and pray I can record without any noise anywhere getting picked up. Either that or I can go to a professional studio. (Even a rehearsal room with my laptop and old microphone would be better.) / On a more positive note, my guitar playing and singing are starting to kick ass, as it were. There must be a reason for my struggle. 'There is! You're becoming a better guitarist and singer, Mikey.' Thanks, Voice.

I'm knackered. Totally knackered. And £35 out of pocket. See you next week, later(s), crocodile(s).