Moan

Late show today; and the cats got me up at 6.30. I am tired, pimply and horrible.

Today, unfortunately, larians cannot take me to Stockport station; he has been wonderful so far, but there are times when work just stamps on your head. So I must get to the station under my own steam, which adds an hour to the travel (ignoring the 20 minutes walk dragging a carryall behind me to the station) an hours wait at the other end and then 2 hours travel to London. And then there's the show, ending in the early hours. Christ. Time to make a note: same day travel is a no-go option unless it's by plane. I really can't keep this up.

I really wish I could bunk off today. Still, I'll be back tomorrow in the land of do nothing for days and days. In the meantime, I record the dream I had last night, though I cannnot see anyone else finding this interesting so here comes the cut:
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Oh what the hell

Pimples will stop me taking it too seriously. The work is still fun, the sun is shining, the grass outside is new cut and smells delicious, and I can sleep through until 10.

All I need now is a caffeine drip and I'm set up for the day.

Tis the beast's arse, my lord

Three entries, man I will do a lot to avoid packing. Including rescheduling the appointment for a minor op I had to cancel cos of working away.

Only I can't. Cos they aren't doing any minor ops at all cos they've run out of liquid nitrogen and don't know when they will be getting more supplies. We're being told to ring back "week by week" and when they have some they'll schedule in our appointments.

Some pretty purple flowers of which I know nothing have sprung up in the garden unbidden. Pink and white honeysuckle is beginning to open on the stem; the property has doubled in value, and people are gentle and kind. But when it comes to new ideas, stimulation and basic amenities beyond third world standards, North Manchester/Oldham way is definitely orbiting the rim of blighty's bum.