I suppose it has been quite a nice little weekend, all in all. Nothing much happened…Well, I say that when what I mean is, compared to some weekends Lyn and I share, nothing much happened. No gigs at the palace or appearances with Coldplay. We did, however, go out to a very nice exhibition at the South London Gallery, Peckham, yesterday, to see an exhibition about gender. Although getting there was a bit of a trek (sorry guys – my bad), we saw a couple of interesting short films about transsexuality, crossing gender lines and so on. Right up our street, and definitely something I’ll have to follow up. It was there that, inspired, I jotted down yesterday’a poem. Great stuff!

Today was also cool, but far more chilled out. I’ve mostly spent it on the sofa, reading at first, then watching TV. Believe it or not, I dob’t think I’ve ever seen ‘The Search For Spock’ until today, or at least I hadn’t since I was small. Those early trek films can be hit and miss, and I mus say I wasn’t very impressed. Nevertheless, it was good to see the old crew played as they should be; as usual, I found myself wondering whether Bill shatner could ever play Kirk again. I doubt it, but stranger things have happened: after all, we live in an epoch where the queen can be escorted to the olympics by 007. (I know I’m obsessed by it, sorry!). True, he may be too old, and but has been just under twenty years since he pulled on that uniform, but part of me wishes he would. The same applies for Patrick Stewart – I long to hear him say ‘Make It So’ one last time. Perhaps that era is gone, and I should let it become history, but what is the harm in a little nostalgia on a wet sunday afternoon.

In all, then, a pretty nice weekend. Time, then, to get dinner going, go back to my sofa, and look forward to Top Gear and then the Baftas. Here, I wonder what clarkson and his pals would make of a crippled trekkie, presently sporting a nice purple leotard…