I trust you have been talking among yourselves ...

while I have been in communicado ... or should that read while I have been a moody bastard?

Apart from a dash down to the big city where I celebrated the lovely E.B's birthday with 3 delicious cakes with my friends AbD and Matty B among others, life has been one long festival of shite. Since blogging, drinking, misbehaving and have one's own opinion is strictly ix-nay at my workplace I can't fill you in on that ... so you are saved from reading a long and heartfelt whine ...

So what have I been doing? Apart from the big Ws whining and working? Not a fuck of a lot. Certainly not gardening. I did pay my electricity bill twice on the same day, giving me a whopping great early payment discount this time round! And I undertook shopping therapy. I meant to buy shoes, but came away with pants and a shirt which I now have to wrap round my feet for sins, which is exactly what you should do with woollen trousers, eh?

I have been reading Herodotus - father of history, or so his agent says, - but not in any English Patient-y sort of a way, but because it is the closest I have come to reading fiction after Lucy Ellmann disappointed me with Doctors and Nurses.

Later tonight I will be going out in my new pants. I rarely go out pantless, but this will be their public debut. I am celebrating that a friend has got a job in a real city. She however is less celebrating and more freaking out. Needless to say I will be sad to see her go, and since she is my going out buddy? accomplice? it now dawns on me I may not have needed new pants after all. Or perhaps they will go out and look for friends like the poor empty pants in What was I so scared of?