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Went to a trailer in a car park to participate in the Our Future Health research programme, to have various measurements taken and some blood extracted. I’m a phlebotomist’s nightmare with hard-to-find veins, and I’d accidentally made matters worse by being cold and dehydrated – must prepare better the next time a medical professional needs to locate a vein.
(Yes it feels likely that it will emerge that the data is being sold to private companies, and that the blood collected actually went into one of Peter Thiel’s breakfast smoothies.)
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Got a new winter coat just in time for the warmer weather. It’s enormous, maybe too big, big enough to smuggle several frozen legs of lamb – I feel the supermarket security guard eyeing me more suspiciously – but so warm that the stolen meat would quickly spoil.
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🚲 Got some new tyres after a statistically significant increase in punctures. Fitting them somehow turned into disassembling the jockey wheels off of the derailleur to give them a good clean – I blame the influence of a TikTok I saw on Instagam – and getting dirty grease on my socks and treading it everywhere including the bathtub – social media is a pernicious beast.
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🎦 The End We Start From features an anomalous number of pre-2000 motor cars, so let’s say it’s set in a parallel universe where Gordon Brown’s scrappage scheme didn’t happen. It did happen in this reality, so we don’t need to worry about ecological disaster.
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To Manchester and back by Megabus. I had some thoughts about the Scania Touring motor coach (the door by the wheelchair space squeaks a lot, passengers in the aisle seats can’t easily reach the power sockets, etc) but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
I liked the softness of the Manchester water – I think my hair likes it better, and I’d spent some of the previous days scraping limescale off of a shower panel.
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Panic Shack (a) (the Pink Room, YES, Manchester) superlative.
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This Is The Kit (h) (the studio where Sale of the Century used to be filmed) didn’t even play their best song but that’s all right by me.