Usually I’m mistaken for a terrorist.

So:

To Borough Market for breakfast.

Then H goes off to do her Saturday, I come home. Burn CDs for Phil. Take them to SW1R, where they’re having a car boot sale, only without the cars, obviously. Surprised at seeing the hall full of people I’m acosted after taking a photograph. It’s all straightened out. I call Phil to tell him and say that it’s unusual for me to be mistaken for a pervert when I’m taking photographs. Usually I’m mistaken for a terrorist.

Thence to Maplins north of Oxford Street (I meant to go there after, but missed my stop), then to the Apple Store, where I spend a lot of money on software, but which I need, and ought to pay for. As I say to the guy behind the counter, if I’m going to drop that much money on software, dammit, I want a box.

Home. Install software, also install Subversion on a web server and set up a repository. This is free.

Record a song – drums, bass synth, piano and vocals. I only finished the lyrics today, so it’s brand new. Hooray.

Go and get fish and chips and toothpaste. Not all from the same shop, and not all to be consumed together.

More blues on BBC 4.