...uh, I've run out of energy already.
Had strange dreams on Thursday night, went to the pub with the

It was much less hot in Brighton, so merely very warm and sunny rather than ohmygodi'mgonnadie, and there was a reasonable breeze for most of the day. However, the trains were packed in both directions, and the one going down had no air conditioning and only tiny windows. We were packed in like a cattle truck, and the humidity in the carriage was unbearable. A lovely homophobe got on and started berating the three guys who were trying to stop him getting on, because there just wasn't enough room. He ranted at them all the way to Preston Park, and I thought "You've really picked the wrong seaside town to go to if you hate queers" - seeing as Brighton is the sort of place where same-sex couples can hold hands on the street even not on Pride day! And also the fact that over 50% of the people in the carriage were going to Pride. Idiot.
Going to Pride is something quite important to me. As a bisexual and especially as a bisexual in a long-term opposite-sex relationship, it's important for me to go along and get counted as Someone Who Likes The Same Sex Too. I don't like London Pride - apart from the fact that when I hear "London Pride" I think of the beer rather than the event, it's too damn commercial. It's very centred towards gay men on the scene, to the extent that the one year I went, I felt quite excluded for being a woman, let alone a woman with a boyfriend. And the fact you have to pay to get into the festival afterwards just sucks. Brighton Pride on the other hand is free and welcoming to everyone - including straight supporters and families. So it's a much better place to be.
Anyway, so I've seen some of my friends that I hardly ever get to see, and feel all affirmed. But I can't think of a good closing sentence.
[*] It did however belong to the strange woman that I had gone to Pride with. Ah well.