It's still January, isn't it? Good. Wouldn't do to be wishing the year away already. That comes later when it's warm out and you feel like you're wasting the daylight in mucking about with computers or mithering in front of the telly ( Read more... )

It's top weather out. (And I have been using 'top' in that sense since 1989 for which you can blame the NME. Sorted, etc.)

... And I'm mithering inside since I've not eaten properly since Wednesday and it's safest for all concerned if I'm within bolting range of a bog. Lovely.

What is this fashion for ending a paragraph with the phrase 'End of.' ? It makes you sound like a stroppy wanker ( Read more... )

(Probably also s of the t that I have written before)

When you can no longer read screens without peering at the things like a wanking tortoise, go and get your head and neck thoroughly massaged. Then you will be able to focus, both mentally and physically.

I'll bet it's done my eyeball pressure some good, too.

It's time for my regular ramble about cups. (The magic spodix printing infrastructure ( Read more... )

... To trawling the 'entertainment' section (aka the 'Who in the name of 'Bob' are these people?' section) of the BBC webshite, I note with an appropriate amount of mirth the name of Steven Seagal's blues band:

Thunderbox.

Oh dear.

Mind, they're doing a fair old tour.

So, um, this exercise business, right. Is it just me that gets yea-many weeks in to a reasonably exacting regimen and then has an attack of the Serious Bleak ( Read more... )