Hate, spleen and wrath

I never used to be all that bothered by smokers- I mean, yuck, but it's their own business. And part of going to the pub is the smell of smoke. But now I keep finding myself with the taste of blood in my throat the day after going to gigs, and generally feeling completely like shit because people can't be in a small enclosed space for two damn hours (when there's a damn interval when they could go outside, as well) without sucking on their blasted burning leaves. Bastards, the lot of them. Coughcoughcough.

( But apart from that )

I've been going through my bookmarks. I don't remember what some of the broken ones even pointed to, which is no bad thing, I suppose. I was very glad to find that Old Scrote's Cookbook is still up. It's the slightly grumpy style that I really like about it, along with a respect for real food.