Rant Of The Day is where I get to mouth off about whatever I feel like for however long I like. Theoretically, I'll update my whinge/opinion piece every weekday; in practice, maybe not so often.
Unfortunately, I couldn't possibly help it. I went to the geographical centre of Sydney yesterday for the quarterly record fair, which is an absolute bonanza for addicted record buyers like me. Last time I went, some guy was selling off a stack of ex-promo singles from radio stations at $1 a pop; I grabbed around 60. If you've ever tried carrying 60 singles on a train, you'll realise one of the subtler advantages of the compact disc.
This time, I wasn't quite so frenzied in quantity terms, but I did pick up some very groovy stuff, including a couple of Shakespear's Sister CD singles I was missing and a cassette copy of the pre-comeback ABBA compilation The Collection. (I swear I'm the only person I know who collects ABBA cassettes). I didn't spend over my limit, but I did spend mighty close to it.
The problem came when I left the record fair proper and decided to do a bit of general shopping. I was in HMV trawling the CD singles when I suddenly noticed blood pouring down the side of my neck. It turned out that a strange pimply thing which I've had for about five years had decided that now was the time to explode in a massive outpouring of corpuscles.
This revelation was followed by a number of further discoveries, in quick succession:
Still, a great record collection is not built without sacrifice.
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