jerry, jerry

I am just exhausted today after the full on sun and festivities of yesterday. Mr McMuffin and I are such typical novice parents in that we were so looking forward to going to the Sundae, that we insisted in getting there about an hour after it opened, to maximise our fun. Obviously this meant leaving early, but I still got to hear The Cutter twenty one years after I first heard the Bunnymen perform it live in '85.

Considering the tickets were so cheap, it was a good day out, but strangely lacking in atmosphere. I couldn't work out what was wrong and then it occurred to me that I couldn't smell drugs, there was no litter, no one vomiting in a corner, I couldn't see a single man pissing up against a fence and when the bands came on, I couldn't see anyone singing or appearing to enjoy themselves. Gypsy Cake said it was a little bit better down the front, but sadly that was too loud for Babycake, so we had to appreciate Ian McCulloch's continuing ability to hit and hold a note from the soulless section of the audience.

Jerry came to speak for a few minutes (Mr McMuffin says poor Ben was hoist on his own petard of full fat dairyness) and said a couple of things about corn starch water bottles. He seems very keen to save the world and I almost pledged to get rid of our fridge freezer, except we wouldn't be able to keep ice cream cold then and that would be a shame. A world without Cherry Garcia (full and low fat versions) is not a world I want to live in.