I dreamt that I couldn't work my ipod, and that I woke to find someone had stolen all my magazines. It was marginally better than my previous night's dream in which I had a baby and was so clueless what to do with it that Lorraine had to look after it.

Drove to work yelling the words to Always Have to Steal My Kisses and marvelling at the group from a Bathurst High School who are going to Russia for Schoolies because they think that Lenin is hot, even after years in a mausoleum, and they want to see him before he's put in the ground.

When I picked up my toast and coffee Aussie John was breakfasting in the sunshine (fruit) and I thought that if I was the producer of Celebrity Australian The Biggest Loser, I'd want him on it.

None of my favourites have blogged this morning. But wasn't that a great frock that Missy Higgins wore to the Arias. You've got to love her because she's got short hair, and it's brown. There are interesting chicks in Australian music at the moment. Sarah Blasko is the thinking person's Missy Higgins. And, of course, I'm not talking about The Veronicas.

Neil Finn deserves a special post-Arias mention. Quite simply the goods and services.