Duck in burgers... Weather, effect on mood of... By the skin of Monty's teeth

Nothing to see here. Move along. More unremarkable progress going on here.

I overslept this morning and that's about as dramatic and difficult as it has got. I know why. I took my Trazadone too late - Trazadone says on its lovely little side effects leaflet, along with skin rashes and as with every antidepressant I've taken does sexual malfunction of various sorts (one included, I think it was Effexor, spontaneous orgasm, which sadly didn't trouble me), that it can cause drowsiness.

This, as understatements go, is up there with calling Pol Pot a little cranky. You take it and about 40 minutes later you're asleep. I've mentioned recently that I've noticed I'm dreaming again and that's new because with Trazadone I've been going LIGHTS OUT, then, about 10 hours later LIGHTS ON! It's good for me that I'm getting good sleep, so don't think I'm moaning. But last night I was a little tardy in popping my pills, so didn't surface until 10.30am.

And, as I say, that's it for dramas, triggers, crises today and that's pretty small potatoes I'm sure you'll agree. [Going through the spell check, I've just realised I've made it through a crowded public event with bugger all in the terms of panic - beyond having to go back to the car to make sure it was locked, of course it was, and that's worth noting - well it is to me.]

We pottered around happily enough, Mrs CD in the garden, me in the kitchen and then drove down to the Bay - Cardiff's version of the redeveloped docklands that have sprung up in pretty much every major port in Britain, usually replacing ships with the arts and restaurants and stuffing warehouses with bijou apartments and lofts. This, apparently, regenerates the economy of the area. It wouldn't be too cynical to suggest this is really gentrification. There are jobs of course, as waiters and the like, but, aren't you just shifting problems elsewhere. I'm not really qualified to pontificate on this, but that doesn't usually stop me. Still Cardiff, as a capital, at least had the chance to pop a rather swish National Assembly there and the Opera House which seems constantly busy. Cripes, who am to moan anyway, I like the Bay (I know older Cardiffians who refuse to countenance this term and gruffly correct me: "The Docks!"), it's aimed squarely at a Guardian reading handbag like myself. So good luck to Pizza Express, the Glee Club, Gourmet Burger Company and all who sail in them.

It was the International Food Festival today, hence the duck burger. Very nice it was too. A nice wander and we caught a bit of music, for one of which M was doing the sound for. We gave C and D a lift down and popped them back to the Pub afterwards. All pleasant enough.

The weather was superb. After listening to the cricket this week, I'd been briefed that it was going to rain today, but it's been perfect. The sun beat down, but the Bay always benefits from the cooling effect of the sea breezes. Everyone seemed to be having fun.

I got back just in time to catch England's fortunate escape with a draw in what was quite a thrilling finish. (Ah, American readers, you don't get cricket do you - that's a shame, you're missing out on one of the world's great games, I suggest you get a copy of the rules forthwith and cast off baseball as the pointless waste of an afternoon it so obviously is).

I've done a bit of arsing around on this ol' machine and that, and that's about all.

On the drinking front, sober as an umpire of course. The only time it struck me was at the festival where I was assaulted with bibuliscious alcohol of almost every description but had to pop to a local corner shop to get a bottle of water. And, I do still miss the damn stuff - every day to be honest. That rush of I don't want to drink the other day is anomalous - that's why I remarked on it I guess. Almost every day I will at some point think, I wish I was drunk, and it's not a craving for a sensible couple of pints, it's for being drunk, drinking to sleep, or that glorious feeling of being in the pub in the early afternoon having got down the four or five pints that make you feel first human, then mmm, quite tasty really and knowing you've got £20 in your pocket and nowhere to go and some decent spliff and some cans at home. Oh yes, I still miss that.

Still. Getting sleepy already from all that sunshine.

If you spent it, thank you for your time.