I’m blogging at 3am. You just know I’m prevaricating, don’t you?

I’ve been listening to my music and having it faithfully transcribed by Audioscrobbler.

And yet, nearly 400 tracks in, the website hasn’t told me who my musical neighbours are.

Is this because my listening habits are just too damn odd? Or is it because my MP3 collection isn’t properly named and it can’t work out what I’m listening to?

Hardly anyone seems to be listening to the Draylon Underground.

I’ve spent the week obsessively listening to one track on repeat: The Connells, 74-75. But that’s been on my CD player in the kitchen and not on anything webbable.

Someone firebomed a car outside our house earlier this evening, and now at 2.45am, the remains have just been lifted onto a flatbed truck and removed.

It was the neighbour’s old Volvo. Had obviously been in the wars, with one window replaced by a black bin liner and duct tape. Which was probably how they got the burning things in in the first place.

I must be more careful about closing my sun roof and locking my doors when I leave the car. The old Volvo was no more a desirable target of a car than my own old Skoda.

I changed my own front tyre this evening before setting off for work, and consequently feel very manly.

It was obviously flat. Practically everyone I know who’s ever been in a similar situation has phoned the RAC and played heavily on the ‘single female’ line, and I didn’t think I could get away with that.

I was somewhat relieved to discover that I did have everything I needed to change it in the car. (The thought had been bugging me all round France.)

For some reason, someone’s just subscribed me to a ‘Burns Victims Throughout the World’ mailing list.

I do hope that’s not portentous.