There's a boy riding a bike onto the flyover. He has a brown scruffy dog sitting in a bucket on the back.

Lano and Woodley at the Enmore. Double-park to feed the black cat. As I'm driving away I imagine that someone opens the door of the house I've just been in, or that there's a face looking out from Gina's car parked beside me. Recover thanks to King Street neon.

Stuck on the couch under a blanket with the remote at the other side of the room, I watch The Footy Show. Mundine reminds me of Handyman Sam. Howcome boxers are permitted to talk themselves up when we only let other sports people say that they're focusing on the next game/heat/match/race? I know it's time to go to bed when the other Footy Show comes on, although I am tempted by Lillee.