A Good Weekend. Friday night Sophie and I wandered out for Pete's birthday meal, where I got to see a few folks I knew vaguely years back but haven't caught up with since (other than when I drunkenly lurch about at parties of course).

Then onto the Unitarian Church where we caught the second half of "Fire in the Heart" - readings from Rumi. Mr Helsby introduced me to Rumi about a year back when he lent me a copy of Whoever Brought Me Here Will Have To Take Me Home. As a rule I'm not a massive fan of poetry - during English A level I was sodomised by the work of Andrew Marvell and have never really recovered - but there's something about Rumi that I can't put my finger on. Anyhow, the second half was ace and the performer, Duncan Mackintosh, was extremely good: clear, warm, and funny.

Saturday saw me travel to Rochester to catch up with the Komorowski family. Under Martin's capable direction Nicki cooked her first lasagne and we wandered into town with their friend Dave, catching a few pubs before ending up at the Tap and Tin - which isn't exactly the best club I've been too, but I suspect that being from Brighton I'm somewhat spoilt. The evening ended in customary fashion with me passed out in an armchair and Nicki being violently ill, as tradition demands.

I spent Sunday recovering, travelling, and doing a few jobs around the house, then out to class - where I discovered that for the first time ever, I'd rather embarrassingly forgotten my belt (doh!!), and sweated out most of the previous evenings excess. On the downside: I've knacked in my wrist again - which seems to be a recurrent injury for me, and (from what I've seen of long-term aikidoka) probably the first of a few. Typing lots probably doesn't help much. Kotegaishi *definitely* doesn't...

Chinese food and Dr Who rounded off the weekend nicely...