Old, Infirm, Doddering and Bland

I failed to mention, Dear Reader, that I had last week off work. Why? Because I wanted to, of course. Other than two evening trips to the theatre, I did nothing. And I mean nothing. I didn't clean the flat, I didn't burn all the tracks in my iTunes library to CD, I didn't go shopping and I didn't even read my autobiography of Ray Davies. Going back to work today, I thought I'd just wasted the week and then I recall how tired and weary I was the week before - perhaps it just takes me longer to recover from being knackered than it used to?

So, other than that, what is my big news?

Alela Diane's new album, 'To Be Still' seems to be doing well since there were no copies of it for sale in the HMV shop at Victoria Station this evening. It's a very small shop and it probably only had a few copies but that's a good sign. So I'll traipse up to Oxford Street tomorrow to get it (it's available for download but I want hard copy, thank you).

No, that's not it, there was something else... what could it be? O yes, I'm OLD. It's official.

My annual travelcard expired last week. That's the magic card that allows me to use buses, tubes and overground trains anywhere around London, or at least in the inner three zones. I use it without thinking the year round and then, suddenly, it expires. I never forward-plan replacing it - it comes as a shock every year.

I dusted off my pay-as-you-go Oyster card so I could get to work this morning meaning to re-new by travelcard this evening - I even stayed late at work to avoid the queues at the ticket office at Victoria Station. When I presented my photocard to link my details with a new card the problems struck. I don't really look like the photo any more. I haven't done for years but whenever I've asked whether I need to replace it I've been told 'no'. Apparently some "new rules" were circulated last week about photocards so I can't get a new travelcard until I get a new photocard. O poo.

If I'm going to be carrying the new photocard around with me for the next however-many years then it needs to be an ok photo. I need new photos but my beard needs a trim first. And I don't particularly want to trim him at the moment - I'm enjoying twirling him and making small dreadlocks during boring meetings at work (and I have a number of those ahead of me). Decisions decisions.

Maybe I'll avoid trains and just stick to the tube and buses until I can be bothered to trim the hairy face and get some new photos...

But, don't you agree I looked pretty damn cute when I was 22? I wore that combat jacket *everywhere* (and it had lots of pockets) but I had such an unruly mop of hair - great in the punk wars a few years earlier but didn't quite work in the '80s. Those 'pilot' glasses were all the rage too. I was also so damn *thin* (I know you won't believe that today...).