Following yesterday's massive lie-in - well, it was more of a coma day - I had to get up and do stuff. I'd asked a friend to give me a ring to see whether I could be awoken from my Sunday slumbers before lunchtime. The prospect of receiving this call made me wake up early, even though the call did not come.

Knowing that I had some work to do to prepare for my plasterer, I headed to B&Q. In truth, I just needed to buy some plasterboard so that an awkward section could be covered in skim and we could forget about it. However, a cascade of thoughts arose and I ended up reasoning thus:

If I'm going to put the plasterboard up for the plasterer, I should probably put a stick of wood up for him to use as a line to plaster up to on the chimney breast that then morphs into a cupboard. If I'm going to have the room replastered, I may as well sink the light switches into the brick. If I'm going to do that, I'm going to need some better drills.

And so I talked myself into buying a good hammer drill... or at least some sort of one. As I arrived at B&Q, the special offer on drills hit me... as did the residual desire for a new cordless drill, especially since there was a special offer on one of those.

I left the shop having spent a couple of hundred pounds on drills.

And a new doorbell.

I'm happy with my purchases and I made a good afternoon of sorting out the room that's ready to be plastered. It was fun and I was ready for a shower at going-to-gig time.

My gig tonight was in Gillingham in Kent. I drove there, I did my gig. It was fun. I watched the rest of the show. That was fun. I drove a couple of acts home, and that was fun too. Gigs are fun. It all makes sense now. Friday's realisation, that I'm doing all of this "for the hell of it" has put everything into perspective.