Rrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrr!

My email isn't working!

It keeps wanting to know my server name and password! I am baffled, cos larians reactivated our accounts before he went south, so I have no idea why I can't access mine - and, without going into worky type details, it is very important I do so within the next 24 hours! God, why now? Why me? Why when I am so busy? Why when it is so urgent?

My head is going to spontaneously combust. I apologise in advance if this leaves nasty smears all over your screen.

Oh yes, and my throat hurts. How dare the day be so frenetic when I want to dedicate it to self pity?

Gibberish

I used to invent languages when I was a kid, and it's just as well, cos there are no existing words to describe today; this is what glossolalia is for; I need an invented word to get it across, a combination of syllables and gestures. The gesture entails putting both your hands up to your face covering your eyes and then forming a kind of praying shape which entirely hides your nose and mouth while you rock backwards and forwards repeatedly chanting 'Oeneeng! OEoneeeeeng!' and as the day gets worse and worse, you shorten it to 'Ooon! Ooon!' or even 'Eeeng! Eeeng!' And it kind of means, the end has come and I had no idea it was going to be like this, Or, the end has come and I have decided to turn into a snail.


But OK, all done.

OK, not all done, but important stuff done, email working again, much sorted. If there is something about the important stuff I have forgotten, tell me before I sink into my bath. It will be hot and bubbly, and may be assisted by something cold and bubbly.

Nothing cold and bubbly in the house. Of course. I just had sausages in cider gravy. Barely tasted them. Right now I am the very spirit of speedfreakery, and I must slow, I must stop.

( Talkytalky and Under Milk Wood )

Finally, my letter to the local rag regarding the beast of Saddleworth Moor has made it into the letters column. Nature seems to beset our community with menace; This week's front page headline exposed the scandal of a 17th century viaduct being demolished by a hoodlum community of water-voles. Man, it's tough, living on the edge.