Puerile sexist shite

I am listening to Aretha Franklin's version of "Drown In My Own Tears", which of course was a big hit for Ray Charles. I am just about to watch "Blow-Up", ostensibly "by" Michelangelo Antonioni, and starring a young David Hemingway, Vanessa Redgrave and featuring a then little-known model called Jane Birkin.

A couple of hours ago I finished cleaning my bathroom, which looked to me as if it hadn't been graced with a sponge all summer, and I'm quite proud that I scoured the limescale off the bath taps to reveal hitherto unseen chrome. I have not been digesting food very well recently and I'm concerned I might have a serious digestive disorder, something along the lines of a wheat allergy. Then again I'm a bit of an alarmist about these things and I've been eating utter garbage all summer - iced buns, fried potatoes, shit like that. I am having problems sourcing 650c chrome forks, ideally straight, ideally columbus tubing, for my new bike, which I'd like to be able to ride to Southend, or Brighton, or Cambridge, somewhere like that, by the end of the month. It's a lo pro frame, so I guess "lotsa luck" is the best response I can hope to get to that kind of ambition, but at the same time I think I might be able to set up the geometery and seating position to a very similar one I already ride, so it would be lovely to enjoy the last of the summer sun riding my new build along the best country lanes Essex and the South East has to offer, with a few friends from the forum.

Okay.. "Doctor Feelgood" gets switched off before the end, time to watch Blow-Up.

here is the lovely alternate take by Herbie Hancock & Bobby Hutcherson