2001-10-28 - 9:15 p.m.

�Oh, isn�t a lovely day�I�m feeling all brand new. Oh, isn�t it a lovely day�for boating on Sunday with you? And if you really want to kiss her, just go right up and tell her��

Last night was kind of an unofficial reunion to mark the inauspicious occasion when, ten whole years ago, a random group of fairly unremarkable people came together at a rural university to drink pints of cider and blackcurrant and dance badly to The Wonder Stuff . Oh, and, erm, study. I hadn�t put a great deal of thought to it really, and in fact it was only on the walk from the tube to the pub that I started to wonder exactly what I HAD done with the last decade. I decided to avoid direct questions about my career by offering to go to the bar every time someone bought the subject up. The evening basically consisted of repeated bouts of vague recognition, followed by remedial smalltalk, which last about ten minutes before you realise �Oh yeah. THAT�S why I didn�t keep in touch with you.� And I�m not exactly Einstein myself, but seriously, there were some conversations that just left you staring blankly at people who used to read philosophy and are now babbling about sales figures and thinking, �Why has your IQ gone into remission?�

But it was all fairly bearable, the only perturbing moment being getting trapped in a corner with Dave, who we secretly called �psycho Dave� because he used to like to show people his knife collection with virtually no prompting. Thankfully he seems to be living without knives now, at least, he didn't seem to have any on him, though he HAS gone into marketing. The girls all looked the same. The boys all looked the same but two stones heavier. One girl, whose name I guessed wrong TWICE, told me she used to have a crush on me. This perked me up no end until she segued into fifteen minutes of enthusiastic chat about her great husband and Christ-like baby, just so I didn�t get any ideas about taking up where we didn�t leave off. Cheers, then.

Lots of husband, wife, baby and same sex life partner action. �Are you married, Pablo?� �Um, no, but I did almost get a date on Friday.�

Anyway, no-one had won a Nobel prize or directed an award winning opera, so I didn�t feel TOO much of an under-achiever.

Though I do still a bit, because I got a scanner but I don�t really know how to use it.

�Oh, isn�t it a lovely day�oh my patio�s on fire. Well, isn�t it a lovely day�no more words of wisdom from liars�And if you really want to kiss her, just go right up and tell her��

EVERYTHING�S FINE! A continuing feature looking at our idyllic, problem free world!

Hey military jet fighters! Here�s a clue when wanting to avoid those embarrassing instances of dropping bombs on people who are actually on your side! I know it must be tricky to tell one towelhead from another, or know one side of the mountain from the next, but our side are the ones NOT shooting at you. OK? OK! I mean, it�s not your fault. You�re just a trigger happy pituitary case, and you�re put in charge of the most sophisticated weaponry known to man. You can�t expect too much, right? Our hopes aren�t high. And I know there was probably a rumour of a potentially dangerous farmyard animal in the vicinity, and that means bombing the fuck out of every square kilometre, but that bit down there? With the children and the donkeys? That�s not the enemy, OK? OK!

�Collateral damage� should be referred to as what it really is. Dead babies.

�Oh isn�t it a lovely day�for love?�

STOP PRESS - this is the most honest thing I've read about the war and it was in a UK tabloid paper. restores your faith a bit. GO HERE

�Oh isn�t it a lovely day�for love?�

Today�s welsh rarebits