Feb. 17th, 2004

nfotxn: (seductive. Bitches gotta gid widme.)
Only eleven days remain before I fly home to Canada. Of those eleven days only seven are possible work days. Ok, ok I'm analysing too much, but can you blame me? Yes? Fuck you.

This weekend I need to get off my butt and pack what I can to stay within my 20kg limit from Inverness to London, Gatwick on the EasyJet. Additional luggage is £4/kg which isn't too bad I suppose. I have amassed an awful lot of books, CDs and clothes since moving here. Having a disposeable income is like that I've noticed. My flight home from Heathrow has an allowance of 10kg in the cabin and 64kg checked. I don't suspect any problems but better safe than sorry.

Bought a cursor miner/max tundra 7" single the other day from the fabulous Norman Records. Wanted to finally buy the Rip-Off Artist record I've been mixing a lot lately. Anyhow, I was totally suprised to have a person-to-person dialog with one of their employees via email regarding me having goofed up one of the digits in my debit card. Also their shipment of Rip-Off Artist records never came in. So I'll have to do with a possibly sucking 7" split single. Still the personal attention was really nice. Given a few other experiences with online independent mail order in the UK I've been pleasantly suprised with how attentive and personal it all is. There is a distinctly personal postal mail culture alive and well here which is heart warming... in a conservative kinda way.

Oh also bought the most comfortable piece of clothing I've owned in ages. Why is it so easy to love wool? I would argue that people like other fabrics for how they make them look but wool is all about comfort and sensuality.

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