But enough of the advice for students that will, in all likelihood, never be read. Today has been, as they say, an interesting day.

So far today, I've helped someone put up posters for a worthwhile charity - for which I was rewarded in tapes, seen family I haven't seen for a long, long time, created a new creature on Spore which is now succeeding in annoying me as much as I enjoy it, which is a little bit of a shame, and I've seen the X-Files movie, and in a lot of ways wish I hadn't.

With the latter point; the problem with the movie is that it was completely aimless. It shouldn't have been - it had plenty to aim for. But it wandered along, at a slow pace, until the inevitable conclusion involving the transplantation of a gay Russian organ harvester's head onto a woman's body.

Yes, you read that correctly. And if you're worried about spoilers, well, oops. Trust me, you're better off with me spoiling it for you and saving you having to see it than going and seeing it yourself. It was a bizarre mix of a film; an attempt to get back the credibility the early seasons of the TV show had, wherein you were never totally sure if it was the paranormal or the criminal that was the cause, and instead, in this film, there was a muddled mish-mash of both, involving two-headed dogs (kind of ick, trust me), and Billy Connolly as an priest defrocked for buggering many, many altar boys, who is now having psychic visions.

And, that's, about, it. For nearly two hours, we get to follow Mulder and Scully as they traipse aimlessly from set to snowy field, back and forth, back and forth, including a questionably-put together sub-plot involving a child with brain damage and the merits of stem-cell therapy against the evil that church men do.

Ugh.

Seriously, ugh.

This morning was fun, though. I'm new to driving. I love driving, but I still drive like a lovestruck teenager; fast and slow in the wrong places, and, occasionally, way too much thrust. I love my car, though, even though it doesn't reciprocate this love in any way.

If you want retro, though, you'll go a long way to beat my late-nineties tape deck, simply because it is such an ass-pain to get tapes for it now we're in The New Millenium. But tapes for it I have found, and thanks to today, I now have tapes from someone who, worryingly, seems to have had much the same taste in singles as a teenager as I did.

So I now get to drive along to Touch and Go and Shawn Mullins.

Yes, you can touch me.

My tape collection is now at a worrying level, especially since if I ever change my car, they'll go back to being useless hunks of plastic unless any of them are so, damn, valuable that I decide to copy them over to MP3, which is, to be fair, incredibly unlikely.

Anyway...