In the end we replaced the defective Season Three of BSG with the Seasons 1-4 +miniseries+Razor box set. With the refund from the original box this only cost us £50 altogether which seems like a not bad deal.

We had a grand wee day yesterday, with old friends round the table for lunch and sucessful cooking and some diamond chat. Today, however, both Mr MacLaren and I are struggling with colds. Unusually for me, my head is still clear (as opposed to full of cotton wool) which makes me fear I have yet to suffer the worst of it. Certainly I have a sore head and scratchy throat and pain in my neck/behind my eyes but I have no sneezles and my nose is not running so there may be more to come. Typical seeing as I am to present a poster at the Institute of Molecular Medicine inagural annual retreat on Wednesday, which will require some brain.

We had masses of chicken drumsticks for lunch yesterday which spent yesterday and this morning with some pork ribs from the freezer boiling up into tasty stock. I think the plan is now for lentil soup; just was poorly folks need to see them right.

...on finishing disc two of season three of battlestar galactica, and opening the second box, to discover two disc fours. Fully an hour after the shops have closed, so there's nothing we can do about it tonight.

Instead we are setting up the new toy but it is so cold in our front room that whenever I move from underneath the big blanket I start to shiver.

Those of you who were paying attention, ooh, exactly two months back will know that I was agonising over some career choices. I had gone down the option C route as it seemed like 'the sensible thing to do' and latterly, as I approached my interview, the whole idea was making me feel ill with worry.

So I was brave. Bold. I said loud and proud- this is not for me- and then I took steps towards what I believe- hope against hope- is the right direction.

I am excited. I am ready.

Alone in the flat, in perfect peace and quiet. Fab. I've been totally floored by my fruit salad (mostly alphonso mango but also and orange and some strawbs) but am still picking at it a little.

Things I ought to be doing:

• Making up the bed, which I stripped this morning.
• Ironing pillow cases for said, and just generally dealing with the ironing pile.
• Blogging about our weekend's Nigella Express exploits.
• Planning menus for the week ahead, to assist in our progressing through The Challenge at a better speed. 
• Putting a wash on for tomorrow
• Finishing the card I started making for K&B to congratulate them on their engagement.
• Writing letters- either to friends in far flung places or to go with the few remaining, yet to be sent out Change of Address cards.
• Simply sitting, reading, quietly. You know, for pleasure.
• Going to bed.

Is a pretty neat little function. A nice way of listening to music on shuffle whilst only really getting music you're in the mood to listen to.

Two of my closest university friends have just got engaged. Exciting times. It was totally impromptu, which I think is very cool. I once very nearly asked Mr McLaren to marry me. It was a totally random innapropriate place (a dull restaurant with dull food) but that was all background noise; all that mattered was him. I didn't say a word though, I put the thought away. I don't think he'd have forgiven me for stealing his moment.

I have tomorrow off work, a random public holiday. Mr MacLaren has asked for the day's annual leave but his work never confirmed it to him. So he's going to go in first thing and see what the state of play is. If it's a nice day and he's about, I'd like to go to the Zoo. If he's not about I might go furntiture shopping.

Cafe Sci tomorrow night; just me going though, as Mr MacLaren is off to a gig.

I went out to a gig last night, to see Edinburgh legends Idlewild play new venue The Picture House . A recent conversion of the old Caley Cinema (to my mind it will always be Revulsion Revolution, a less than salubrious night club from my early student days) The Picture House is a gorgeous building to be in- I'd never noticed the artful old wood panelling in the entrance, and in the auditorium the stage of the old cinema screen is still relatively intact, albeit hidden last night behind sound curtains.

We seemed to be there for the soft opening; the first official gig at the venue but a full week and a bit before the Grand Opening with Scottish Dull-Rockers Travis. As I overheard someone saying in the loos, Idlewild seem to be more of a going concern on the Scottish music scene than Travis these days (and have always been a more interesting band)(AND they're actually from Edinburgh, just doon the road from The Picture House no less) but perhaps the fact that the Travis gig has sold out whereas last night hadn't should tell me I'm wrong.

In all I wasn't that impressed with the gig. I've been to see Idlewild plenty of times in the past and I know they can put on a blinding show. Last night though, was somewhat lacking. The main problem, as far as I was concerned, was that the mix was rubbish, and so Roddy Woomble's gorgeous voice and great singalong lyrics were lost in the three guitars. I'm not normall the kind of person who can comment on the quality of the mix either, so it must have been pretty pants. Perhaps because of this for me, the two stand out tracks were the acoustic songs at the beginning of the encore, ?American English and then When I Argue I See Shapes, which was a bit like this:

That said, the over all environment wasn't great. Gigs crowds reach this funny stage once you get out of the very smallest venues; over a couple of hundred in the audience and all of a sudden you get folk that have been drinking all afternoon, who are obnoxious and violent and you wonder why on earth they'd waste their money on coming to a gig when they can piss people off for free elsewhere. Presumably they like to aggravate with a rocking sound track. 

There were also a lot of those weird fans who are there for the lead singer and not the band (the first time we saw Radiohead there were lots of really scary people shouting about how Thom Yorke was a god and practically worshipping at the stage...it was most unpleasant) which is embarrasing when the band are as tight an effective a unit as Idlewild. A standard chant of Here we, Here we, Here we Fucking Go didn't take off when it started just before the band came on, but moments later poor Roddy Woomble was visible cringing to the sound of Roddy, Roddy, Roddy Fucking Woomble and (Remember you're a Woomble ). Perhaps because of this imbalance Roddy spent many of the non-lyric bits of the songs scooting off to one side of the stage and just letting the band have the limelight.

Generally I think The Picture House will be a good thing for Edinburgh. We need a mid-size venue, and one with decent soul not like the aircraft hanger monstrosity that is The Corn Exchange is very welcome. The wooden floors are easier on the aging/pogoing knees and the venue is dead central and well served by public transport. Even the Club nights they'll be running post gigs on Friday and Saturday appeal a bit. We shall have to see where things go.