I could hardly contain my delight this weekend at watching Arsenal succumb to a very unlikely Nottingham Forest side. The latter were easily the better team. Arsenal, for all of their tattoos, fitted jerseys and straightened hair, lacked their usual class. And I'm always on the lookout for class, especially when folding my family's laundry by myself.

That aside you couldn't have asked for a better prelude to a Sunday night house show than the snowstorm I waded through to get there. Driving wind mixed with hard, compact flakes, as I recall. There wasn't a soul on the road save for someone attempting a brave, if foolish, ride of their bike. Perhaps the machine hadn't been used in a while and its owner harboured feelings of guilt. If so it was a less than sensible night to begin to atone.

The evening collected an odd mixture of bohemia, pop punk and hardcore. The only real takeaway from the show is that there appears to be a musical subgenre called 'easycore' (hence the title), which suggests 'pop punk' to me, which finally suggests that I may be writing in circles.

I also saw what looked like a juggalo (am I still allowed to use that term?), which was a pleasant surprise. I don't have photo, sadly, which owes mostly to the surprise I felt at the time.