today's stage of le tour was won by a belgian hearthrob in fairly decisive fashion. the future mr martin? god only knows why i think of him in this light. fun in london yesterday, though i met three girls on the train home who reminded me of viz. "UB40 were butters but doherty, he is a fitty". i may well go on holiday to a monastry, or some such frivolity. my records have been found, so in celebration i should like to lead you all in song:

i haven't known sorrow for so many years,
with no foe to fight, death's all i fear
and death would take you, death would take you
thats just what it'd do, thats just what it'd do

a bird in my ear, was beaking away
about all the jewels he'd come across that day
jewels in the grass, jewels in the grass
where the worms used to be, where the worms used to be

the cattle were lowing, they cried for your feet
the clouds were your arches, the cows were alseep
and they spoke of you, they spoke of you
as they lay there and mooed, as they lay there and mooed

the house walls are tighter, the bed it is small
housing just one soul, just one soul that's all
when it once held two, it once held two
no it doesn't hold you, it doesn't hold you

the ride and i wont be t'wards working today
that's good that's over, you are away
and now ill undo, now ill undo
thats just what ill do, thats just what ill do

(not, you are free to extemporise your own whistling solo between the second and third verses)