Today's soundtrack: Catatonia - International Velvet
A day to feast on the best sport around - oh, and to catch the Everton - Burnley game as well.
Firstly the European Grand Prix, which took place around the back alleys of an industrial estate between the beach and the docks in Valencia, so far as I could make out. Jenson Button continued his one-man effort to throw away the most commanding lead in the driers' championship in Formula One history, whilst McLaren contrived to chuck away victory by getting the tyres out for Lewis Hamilton five seconds later than they should have done. Millions of pounds of investment in the best technology money can buy, and the race is lost because they can't have the tyres ready when they are needed.
Which all contrived to give Rubens Barrichello his first win in five years, and he looked like he enjoyed it a lot. I especially liked his jerky little dance when he got out onto the podium. There should be more silly little dances by obscenely wealthy sportsmen and women.
A quick dash from the TV to the computer, to watch Everton play Burnley on Shanghai Sports with some flavour of Chinese commentary. Everton continue to press the self-destruct button by a) defending like twelve year olds in the first half and b) missing the penalty they were gifted that would have brought them level. I hate it when we have to play the newly promoted teams early on in the season, when they are still fired up and believing anything is possible. Can we bounce back in a ManYooesque fashion at the weekend? Don't bet on it.
After a detour to collect Son No 1 from his Skye trip, I caught the tail end of the Ashes. And at last there was something to cheer about, by virtue of the Aussies being even worse than we are and shooting themselves in the foot just when it looked like they were possibly going to pull off an unlikely upset.
Called Son No 2 on the phone, to discover mid-conversation that The Hunter had cornered another bird, this time outside, beneath the kitchen window. Managed to get the cat indoors, although the bird (which was clearly still alive and, as far as I could tell, unharmed) didn't seem inclined to move anywhere. A few hours later, the poor thing was still there, and it became increasingly obvious that the trauma was going to do it in, even if it was physically undamaged.
Very sad, but the poor thing's catatonia does give me an-in-no-way contrived link to today's soundtrack, the first album by the Welsh funsters' first album. A patchy affair, rescued by the wonderful 'Mulder and Scully' and 'Road Rage' - and, of course, Cerys' accent which comes deep from the valleys.
Here's Mulder and Scully at Netaid in 1999. Does your mother know you've gone out dressed like that, Cerys?