This evening, my national news programme sounded surprised to announce that a person in the UK has died from swine 'flu despite not having any 'underlying health problems'. I can't decide why this irritates me so much. ( Tossing and turning )
I caught this in the car today. I cried a bit, and it was lovely. If you can spare a quarter of an hour, and enjoy an impossibly romantic story, this is unmissable.
Six names you go by: 1. This one, and variants. 2. the rognon 4. Pebble. Because I live next to the beach and I am smooth and rounded. 5. Bingles. No idea why, but I get called it at work. 6. my own irl surname, also at work, private school stylee. It's a thing some of my workmates and I seem to have got into the habit of. Started with my irl surname
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Last evening I was invited by friends to Graze, in Hove. They'd been there in the summer for the tasting menu (with wines) shortly after I'd been blessed by my visit to Bacchus in London. I knew that it wasn't going to be quite up to that standard, but it looked very delicious and By Jove! I like a good feed.
It was fortunate that we were able to
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"Hi, Debbie, it's Twice." "Oh, hi. Did you get the paperwork OK?" "Well, yes. Although it's not really what we need." "Oh. I did it in November, though." "Yes. It reached us on Christmas Eve. ( Read more... )
On the last night before the end of my Christmas break, I decided to go drinking. I could have had a wild Christmas, but as it turned out I had a very non-alcoholic time. I visited my older brother for the big day, and I confess that I don't give a flying fuck whether the Burgundy I drank was mighty fine and worth a zillion pounds a bottle. It
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On Friday I was in hospital, just for a check up. At my last visit, my consultant had requested a bone density scan and I had obediently toddled off and had it done. When I asked about the result, the doctor I saw (an *underling*, dammit!) tip-tapped at his desktop and calmly pronounced that there was no test. I explained that I was pretty sure I'd
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