I'm writing this in school, immediately before Dave takes me for a lavish meal in advance of me screwing up his choir rehearsal with my under-practised piano playing.

Another anecdote about the school filtering software, which might be amusing if it wasn't so tragic. The school network will allow me to look at this page, despite the fact that the word "fuck" appears dozens of times. I cannot, however, update the blog properly from school, as the filter blocks the blogger.com main page, which, as far as I can see, contains not one instance of four-letter swearing. So I'm having to type this up in Hotmail and send it to myself so that I can post it to the blog when I get home at about eleven tonight. I might not be arsed, so there could be a double entry tomorrow.

Just had jazz practice, and I'm a bit worried about Sab. Transpires today that she spent Friday night at the Nixons, having failed to work out a way of getting herself home from Club M. So she was stranded in a next-to-nothing dress with no money, drunk - on Teesside. Nice one, Sab. Good job Matt was there to rescue her. This afternoon she was moaning about him being moody. I also find out that earlier that same evening she'd been waving around bits of her anatomy that demure young ladies should not wave around in public. Why? In exchange for a tab. Now, I'm not exactly a puritan, but that's not good. I'd talk to her, but I doubt she'd listen. Suggestions on a postcard, please.