Tuesday...

Sort of a David Peace 1977, 1983, GB84 etc approach to the titles of these most recent two posts. Ill again. Flu. Not man flu but proper, no-holds barred, kill you in your tracks flu. Seriously, I feel as if I'm dying. PR can wait. Can wait for ever to be honest, I've had enough of it. I have drained what was left of the Beecham's All in One (the all appearing to allude to everything other than a cure for whatever it is that I have running around my body).

The afternoon was different. Mike and Yuka and Isla were in town. From Japan. So we wrapped up warm and went to meet them. I only hope that I ain't given them something!

Monday...

It is Monday. I am supposed to be back behind the keyboard today, churning out money-earning words at rapid speed, the fast buck of freelance PR bringing festivities to a shuddering halt. Yet I am too ill to even look at the laptop screen, let alone apply some thought before shifting fingers to keyboard. Back to bed.