The Girlfriend's ill... stomache bug. I tried to be comforting when she woke me at four in the morning with her big puppy eyes and her sad pout, but in all honesty I was too tired to say much more than "want me to get some medication for you?" and "poor sweetie". I vaguely remember her going to the bathroom before I fell asleep again, but after that I was out like a light. Until I woke up at 6am. And she wasn't lying next to me. In my imagination she'd fallen from a flight of stairs and had been lying there wounded for hours. Or she'd banged her head on the toilet bowl and was lying unconscious on the floor of the bathroom. I rushed to the bathroom and there she was... lying on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. "Oh, I must have fallen asleep?"

Who the hell manages to fall asleep on the floor?

Saturday night is synonymous with "Big Fat BBC Music Show" in this household. We searched for Joseph, for Nancy and Oliver, and now it's time for the best choir in the UK.
The first episode, the obligatory callbacks, promised a lot of drama: angelic gospel choirs, old ladies with songbooks, dressed up schoolgirls and a bitch of a matronly music teacher, a bunch of kids from Birmingham, the obligatory gay men's choir (singing "Don't you wish your boyfriend was hot like me") and a lot of choral arrangements of modern songs (Cry me a River for instance). I don't know why, but I'm crazy about these kinds of shows. And I don't think this one will be an exception.
So for those of you without a life: you know what to do on Saturday evenings!

Oh, and shockingly enough this is one BBC music show without John Barrowman!
The jury is about as annoying as three John Barrowmans though, but still, it's quite an accomplishment.