Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Well, though today is yet young it's been pretty good.

I interviewed Pat Ingoldsby earlier and it went really well.

I mean, first off I was late (not very late... But enough that he told me off for it.) and secondly I hadn't prepared any questions. This, in itself, isn't that new for me. I don't hold with specific questionaring anyway, but it always makes me feel a little unprofessional - though I've yet to get any complaints. I reckon most people are too polite to give out to me. After all, I Am The Press!

*coff*

Yeah, and Pat was really cool. We had coffee and chatted and I recorded it and he read a couple of poems for me... (deep breath)...

One of the oddest things was this skinhead nut-job who'd just been flung from the amusement arcade next door wandering into the pub we were in. He asked Pat where the toilets were and Pat said, "Were you just fucked out of the arcade next door?" to which the fella replied, "I wasn't fucked out, it was a bit of a disagreement is all..." At which point he tottered off to the loo and when he came back he put on his scary face and re-approached our table, "Did you see me get thrown out of next door?"

Pat: I saw you get asked to leave.

Weirdo skinhead: And what did I do then?

Pat: You left.

WS: That's right... I did... (at this point he started to look a bit sheepishly shifty and wandered off, not quite sure why he hadn't gotten into a fight. Possibly a bit disappointed. "No trouble, no trouble at all..." said Pat to me.)

It was just a surreal situation to find myself in. Pat seems to have this severe disdain for journalism in general, but he agreed to help me because it was a college project and not an article for the Star.

I could go on for ages about this, but I won't. I'll paste the article up when I write it - p'raps. I'll certainly stick up a couple of his poems when I get the chance. Now I'm going to attempt to post a picture again. If it's as successful as my last attempt it won't be very...