It appears that a number of you did read the last effort all the way, thank you, that was a big ask.

A letter arrived yesterday from the doctor, regarding the recent bloodtest. They want to discuss the results with me. So will I make an appointment to see the doctor. However, when making that appointment, I find that I am unable to discuss it with the doctor for another thirty days. That pisses me off a little, because that ol' ring just may have a twitch or two in the meantime.

Anyway, in an effort to try and incorporate something sensible into my diet, I breakfasted on All-Bran and Weetabix. Dear God, it looks like some form of industrial sludge, something that builders might use for filling joints or worse. And it tastes not that different, too.

Work has been great fun. Well, tolerable. I'm getting an audience, so I can't complain.

The bloodtest thing all stems from the Long Purple Shadow, and it really does fuck me off today, I have to say. It makes me have an exaggerated appetite and a greater propensity to put on weight - great combination - it is a contributor to my baldness; I know that's genetic, but Daddy didn't start going bald 'til he was twenty years older than I am now; and it makes the rest of me look like a fucking werewolf. And I'm not even sure that it does quite what it's supposed to do, having woken up on Wednesday with an evil headache and having bitten my tongue. But they told me last year (I'd only been taking the bloody stuff for twenty-two years) that I'm going to have to take it for ever. That wasn't actually the original deal, but it appears that whilst the cons of taking it are poor, the cons of stopping or tampering are worse.

I'm watching athletics on the telly, which gives me an opportunity to quietly lust after Hazel Irvine, and knickers to you if you think that's wrong. Some of the athletes are alright too, though I won't go further on that subject, as frankly that's my business.

The weekend holds the prospect of going home to the ancestral pile, to celebrate the birthday of Mummy. This is a good thing, as I could do with a bit of tlc in the bosom of the clan. And the nosh will be excellent!

Anyway, enough of my witterings, have a good weekend all.

PS. This athletics is fine as long as they don't wheel out that awful Edwards man.

PPS. The pictures as promised last time around; no, actually, it still won't let me load then.

PPPS. It's worse, Lord Coe.