Marching towards April ...

By then, the Commonwealth Games will be over. But wait, I hear you ask, they haven't even started yet! That's correct, but the esteemed broadsheet and most other media outlets are in an outright panic about how to cover them. It's a once-in-a-lifetime event for the city, but then again, it's not the Olympics, with the USA, China and most of Europe missing. Aside from people getting stabbed left, right and centre (I bought a knife this week - true story) the city is in the grip of Games fever. They should just get a grip. But it has been better than going to funerals and doing the occasional "death knock". Note: Just to clarify an earlier point, I bought the 8-inch Crocodile Bowie knife for a story, OK? It cost me, rather the esteemed broadsheet, $39.95. Bargain.

There's no other news and no other reason why I put this picture up - of me in San Francisco no less - other than to break the monotony of several text-only posts. That will change soon hopefully. I'm in the market for a new camera, having received a big cheque from the insurance company. You might see the new house, JB's new haircut (watch out ladies) and more shenanigans than I've been having lately. The Rayman arrives home over the weekend so we'll have a few ales in his honour. Luckily, I have Labour Day Monday to recover before it's back to the salt mines.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the footy with KL and Cousin Davis. Hopefully the Cats will win, despite being without the injured Kent Kingsley, who I saw at Wood Oven Pizza the other night. Instead, he signed his autograph for a lucky young fan with playing pinball with his girlfriend and downing a bottle of Coke in quick time. It was thrilling stuff.