MDF

Yesterday I went to my first meeting of the local branch of Manic Depressive Fellowship (MDF), which in acronym form sounds like it should be something one purchases from B & Q. It was not as bad as I expected, and there was chatting and cups of tea, and biscuits. The people were nice and welcoming, and I didn't have to stand up and say 'My name is Frank and I'm a Manic Depressive.' Which was nice. I don't really like the term Fellowship, which sounds sort of odd, and vaguely sinister, but there you go. And I got to go to Aberdare on the bus. Upstairs, on the almost mythical X55.

Today I had v. short haircut and spent my birthday vouchers on new jeans (moleskin) and new book called My Father and Other Working Class Football Heroes, by Gary Imlach.

It's all go.