Last night, I went to a mini black metal festival in London. It was totally rubbish.

Ok, I tell a lie. It was, in fact, mint! How did you guess?

Enslaved were fantastic. I've only got their latest album, which I like, but the older stuff's better. And they're playing again in February and headlining - yay! Grimfist I'd never heard before, but I approved muchly. Madder Mortem, I'd gathered were weird, and indeed they were - they had a female singer that gave the band a somewhat spiritual sound, but a very dark messed up one. I liked it.

Red Harvest, I'm not sure about. I thought their albums could have done with being a bit heavier, so I was pleased to discover them to be really brutal live, but this came at the expense of the contrasts that make their "A.E.P." my favourite song at the moment. (It makes me feel like hugging things: not, perhaps, a result you'd expect from industrial black metal.)

As I'm still quite new to the genre, I wasn't familiar with the headliners Arcturus, who were weird too. Very progressive, the microphone echoed, the music often sounded strangely remiscent of and about as menacing as the "Thomas The Tank Engine" theme tune, and since when are dressing gowns black metal? Still, I'd like to hear more of them.

And I was down at the front. My spine will never be the same again and I will never have children, but I got to shake hands with someone from every one of the bands!

Also, the line-up for the Inferno Festival in Norway was announced, and I really really want to go. But, brave as I am, the thought of voyaging to a country I've never set foot in on my own is a bit daunting, so anyone want to go with me / know someone who does?

After my difficulty getting home after Napalm Death, this time I made two back-up plans in advance. Sadly, this thing didn't finish until nearly midnight (an hour later than gigs are meant to finish), meaning they both fell through. Luckily, Plan D - beg Lars to put me up, then run like mad to catch the last tube - worked. Hurrah for Lars! (Boo for tubes though - today, I should have had to change once; I had to change four times.) And, to our mutual surprise, at 8.30 this morning, Rob who I met at Slimelight a few weeks ago, walked into the living room, as he'd also been staying chez Lars.

When I finally reached the railway station, I found myself in the mood for bad chicklit and gave in and bought "Shopaholic And Sister" in WH Smith. (I did have a look for some Decent Literature as well, but they didn't have any.) I don't know whether to be glad or scared that when I got home and Sleeve (who is male) investigated my purchase, he said, "I like chicklit! Bridget Jones rocks!"