For the last couple of days I've vibrated along to the rumble of heavy machinery trundling by on the street outside. Hot asphaltic steam rose from the shiny black road surface, and young workmen buried under layers of once fashionable clothing wandered here and there, earning their money by looking busy all day. This morning I glanced out to see what progress they've made when... Huh?

What a suprise! A brand new road, glistening darkly with brand new tarmac and light rain fall. Cars wafted by happily, their drivers grinning maniacally at discovering a new pass between the mountains of brick housing that seperated them from gainful employment elsewhere. It looked pristine, perfect, and bare of any white lines that will surely be painted on in the near future.

Yet for some reason, a pacth of the original road surface has been left untouched. I wonder why? As an archaeological record of road surfacing in the late twentieth century perhaps? Or did they run out of stuff to repave the road? One wonders whether the manhole is in the right place at last.

Things To Do, Places To Be

Right then. Off down the hill and call in at the museum for another morning of thrills and spills. Anyone who thinks nmuseums are boring places really ought to work in one. As it happens, I was educated by one of our youthful volunteers into the deeper mysteries of contemporary heavy metal. He downloaded song after song from the internet in the vain hope of finding one I thought would be musically significant. Have I heard of a band called Hollywood Undead? No, but I think I'm going to.

Eventually I received a sample of recordings made by a band called Korn. My colleague was very enthusiastic about them, and in all honesty they could be a very good rock band indeed once they finsih their course of psychotherapy.

We had a visitor come in, so the music stopped (We're not allowed to play music that the public can hear because the premises aren't licensed for entertainment, although what could make you describe a Korn track as entertaining is difficult to think of). We even sold a book too. Rushed off our feet.

Football Hero of the Week

One of my museum colleagues is a keen footballer, as young men sometimes are. He was telling about meeting a young lady he found somewhat attractive. Apparently the target of his passions is also the only club physiotherapist, thus I can now reveal that my colleague will shortly become the most consistently injured football player of all time. Good luck laddy.