You've got mail Downstairs to make Lorraine and I a cup of tea and found a romantic and copious cat poo on the carpet courtesy of fat Basil. I fed the cats, which Brian sicked up afterwards. Between I gave Lorraine her Valentine's card and a scarf and rose, and received a nice card of amorous owls. A lethargic start to the day, but I had to quickly get my ducks in a row and walk in to the BBC on Queens Road. Alison Ferns, who is really nice, was visibly pregnant and hadn't a clue what was on the CD (nor did she have one to hand, luckily I had one in my manbag) which left me slightly wondering what I was doing there. Still I was grateful for the coverage and she played most of one track, which sounded a bit weedy in the studio, but fine on the radio. I came out feeling I hadn't done a great job, but listening to the interview it was not bad under the circumstances. I was in and out in ten minutes or so, and then walked down to the sea briefly, and went to The Latest Musi...
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