One unexpected side effect of getting married seems to be an increased capacity for shouting at the telly and moaning about the state of the world. We watched a bit of Glastonbury this weekend and complained about: bands that plunder Talking Heads but with sharper suits, the honking huge void left by John Peel and of course the mighty suckfulness of Coldplay. Everything was better back in OUR DAY, don't you know; even though our day was only a few years ago. Gareth declared that the last Really Good Glastonbury was 1997; and of course I agreed, having formed this opinion in Australia from an imported copy of Q magazine six months after the event. I'm hoping this curmudgeonly behaviour simply indicates we're now nicely settled into our state of hitchedness. And the timing is good since we have to get married AGAIN next Saturday, aka The Night of the Hot Ceilidh Action. SHAUNA: Did you know that I've previously only been to four weddings in my whole life, but now I have to go to four weddings in one year alone? And they're all our bloody weddings! GARETH: Yeah? I'm really getting sick of getting married to you! S: Yeah? Well I'm really getting sick of getting married to you, too! S & G: Hehe.