Flu off

And I'm very happy about it.

That was nearly ten days of flu, including two false dawns last Friday and this Tuesday with (rather painful) slams back down to illness immediately afterwards. (Hint, Kids: don't go to the pub when you've had the flu for five days, and decide to sit outside where it's cold).

I got a mild taster of how Dad feels. He gets frustrated that his illness always leaves him too tired to think. For him (and me, who is turning into his carbon copy in a lot of respects, when I was ill), it's a pretty nasty thing to have to get used to. You can't hold a long train of thought... Is that what it's like to be a local radio DJ?</bitch>

Thanks to our friends at Nytol.com, I've also had two good nights' sleep, so I'm feeling pretty good. Which means I need to start back at the gym next week BIG-time — I'm starting to prefer my comfortable older jeans, and that's never a good sign!

Monday could be a rattle in London, despite the unwisdom of boozing on the last day of a bank holiday weekend, i.e., you have three nights where you can get blootered, but you choose the fourth. Well done, everybody :o)

Because I've been away from the interweb a lot in the last ten days, I've fallen way out of contact even with the people I'm normally in contact with. Jason, Ben, James, Gerry... actually, even Abi! So I need to rectify that.

Er.... what else.... No Sextour summary here yet, or the Plan B... Must do that after that paper's done (should be in six days' time, if my entirely reasonable-sounding plan works!)...

Oh yeah — went to see the Hitchhiker's Guide lastnight. I loved it. Quite British, I thought, although the Zaphod Beeblebrox was just as American as he should have been. Favourite (slightly fluffy) bit was when they made mushrooms appear. Touch of genius.

Anyway, best be off soon. Now I can park my car up again...

I've survived!!

That was what went ringing through my head yesterday evening, when the money from an expenses cheque appeared on cue in my account. For five days, I

1. had to work every hour available to get a paper draft written up
   
2. had next-to-no money
   
3. had to spend nearly all of that on petrol to get to work so I could deal with point 1
   
4. had flu for two of those days and couldn't afford anything to treat it with. At least, not if I wanted food
   
5. was really fucking depressed because of all of the above.
   

But now I have a buffer of money to see me through next week, and I might even buy myself a DVD to cheer myself up this weekend. The Motorcycle Diaries is a hot contender!

PDM now has the draft of our letter, and hopefully the Mysterious Smoking (ger)Man will make it back in time to have his input before the staff upstairs get crotchety on Friday.

But nothing beat the sensation of having over �200, when I'd spent the last 24 hours with no food left and just 42p in my pocket. Honestly, my brain just couldn't take in that order of magnitude of money!

Anyway, I probably shouldn't be at the orifice, but Neilo managed to win me a free flight to Dublin that I had to book by midnight, so I'm going home for the folks' 30th anniversary in July.

Yours cheerfully... ;o)

Ben the Dog: June 1991 - April 2005

Draft message to Abi, never sent, written 9th April 05 16:33
Thanks. Dad'll be
heartbroken. Always
calls him his "shadow".

Two times of year to dread at work

1. Christmas: everyone in management suddenly wants to draw everything to a close so they can feel good about the year. All deadlines become the last day before Christmas. Questions begin with "Can you....?"
   
2. New Financial Year: everyone wants to tie up loose ends before all the new grants begin. Questions begin with "Have you....?"
   

Back on the Island

Fuck me... that was an more stressful return to England than normal. And I've probably created a bit of a hole for myself to clamber out of, as everyone noticed that I was gone. Which, on a personal level, is quite nice.

On a professional level, I may have to explain that I was so fucked off with myself that I didn't want to talk about my driver's licence having expired months ago, thereby leaving me stranded in Ireland.

I'm quite pleased with the success of Plan B, though. It's parked outside the orifice as I type this. I'll write up the story when I've got Thursday's talk at NAM out of the way (as I lost three working days to reversing the blunder). But I've a few photos on the phone to illustrate the journey.

In other news, the world is now down by one pope. Strange to think there'll be someone else filling his shoes in the near future. Not sure how I feel about it. He wasn't a particularly lord-friendly chap (not in the sense I mean, anyway), but he did accomplish a lot that was pretty positive (if you leave the negatives out for a while).

And it was Chris G's leaving do lastnight. Hard to believe he's gone. But in a slightly Doctor Who-ish way, Lucie will be returning to the orifice tomorrow; it's almost like getting a reincarnation of personality from one original member to another (original when I got here three years ago, at least). And I think today is the third anniversary of me moving to England. In fact, I'm sure of it! Bloody hell.

Too much going on in my head. Can't be arsed with this talk. Will do it and do it reasonably well, but not expecting a last-minute success like last year's COSPAR talk.

Today has been:

• Waking up
  
• Checking Andy was awake in the spur room
  
• Having a shower
  
• With (strangely) very little hot water
  
• Because Andy was doing the washing-up (what a star!)
  
• Watching some generic American sitcoms on ABC1
  
• Newland's Corner for breakfast (fast becoming an enjoyable Sunday tradition, that) of a bacon roll (even though I don't normally go for pork products
  
• < insert your own gag -- I know most of them :) >
  
• Parting company with Mr F to go home and get stuff to go into work with
  
• Being at work and not really doing any.
  
• Maybe calling round to JPD's for a catch-up on the way home. I quite fancy leaving here at a resonable hour and getting a good night's non-social, non-travelling, sitting-in action.
  

Mr M's been on, too, about a lord night out. Which reminds me about Fraser's mate, too! Much to do this month...