Today I've been filling in the forms that the man at the Jobcentre gave me to fill in before my interview. All very tedious stuff. This I did until Mum got back from Tesco's where she had just done the shopping. She said that there was a notice up advertising for - ahem - checkout operators, so Nick and I went down to Tesco's, waited in a queue for a bit, and found out that there were no application forms. Every little helps.

Back to the forms. At one point it asks for details of your nearest post-office, in case they need to get money to you in a hurry. Anywya, I had to go round the corner to ask their address. To my mind, a form that's completion depends upon one's going out of doors is a form that is flawed. On the way back from that I ran into a kid. I knew he was a pupil of Cordwalles Shool by his garb. "Hello," says he, "I know you from somewhere... church, the guitar playing kid." Having settled this matter, which was confusing me also, we went our separate ways. However, I am disturbed by the notion that this person in miniature might think of me as a kid. I suppose it's possible that I misheard him. I must remember to bring some money to church next week, for upon meeting him the first time, he got a little sponsorship for a walk that he was doing. Precocious, I think, is the word; saving the presence of his mother, he was apparently going to dob on Alan, our keyboard player, for falling asleep during Dad's sermon. One to watch, and forseeably lock up. Naturally, I jest