I am halfway through Genome. This morning I find myself idly searching for popular science books on 4m4zon. Reader, it is an affliction. I am consumed by these puffed up popinjays and their simplified explanations of the challenging scientific issues of the day. A cure might be to read a novel, but I am refusing to buy The Little Friend in W4t3r5t0|\|35 because they have broken the 28th October embargo and are therefore very bad people indeed. Luckily all this frantic adding of the dread popsci to my wishlist comes too late for my birthday, which, I feel it is my duty to point out, is nigh.

I had a superb rest in Dundee. Of course I didn't read any of the books I suggested I might, (apart from The Code Book, which I did indeed race through in one sitting on the way back) but I did gain many fantastic records from C____. Highlights include Why Me (Daniel Johnston Live in Berlin); an excellent Johnathan Richman album from 1985 (All through baseball he was loved and respected/Was there bitterness in Walter Johnson? Well, it was never detected); and The Man by Bill Drummond. Coincidentally he was in Dundee, and though I couldn't get a ticket, C____ went. The great man was talking about a piece of art mentalism that he has been concocting. A link when I find one. Suffice to say that I bought a piece of a $20,000 Richard Long photograph that had sheep excrement on it. And I was delighted.