Must get round to yakking about Doon Sooth soon.
Work's OK. I have a few things to be getting on with.
Last night after grabbing a quick bite I went over to the Beltane office to meet assorted Torchies (and one or two others) and shred sheets for torch balls. The sheets were in an . . . interesting state, with stains that might be identifiable but probably would be better left mysterious. They'd also been sitting around a warehouse for an uncertain length of time. I would have thought that it was obvious that using your teeth to start a tear was a bad move (and I'm fairly blasé about infections) but apparently it's not. Any cases of Weil's disease are not my fault, OK?
After everything in sight had been shredded and a couple of balls had been made, they were soaked in paraffin for half an hour and taken out onto the Meadows to be lit. We wanted to see whether they'd burn for as long as we'd hoped - twenty minutes was our optimistic aspiration - and whether the one with a lump of wax in the middle lasted better than the other. In fact, they lasted about half an hour, and the wax-cored one was very significantly better, so things are officially Going Rather Well. A drunk (but pleasant) bloke and a couple of youths wandered up and admired the flames for a bit before ambling separately away again.
Steve was heard repeating "30 minutes!" in an awestruck tone for the rest of the evening, in between threatening to keep his beard (after he shears his head) in his pocket so he can pull it out and stroke it at the point when he normally does such a thing. AJ should probably remember this possibility in case he ever feels like shaving off his moustache.
A couple of pints were had in Bertie's, and then the Hoose. Yesterday's Daily Record had the most amazing apology, which I will repost here if I can find the exact text.