Ah, what a week. Mostly plodding through stuff, not totally tedious but not inflaming the passions of my heart, I did get the opportunity to take these pictures, of an alien bin invasion on some allotments on the arse-end of Slough. The sinister powerstation building in the background is the Mars bar factory. Somehow, looking at it, I doubt that it is full of semi-naked brown-skinned beauties wrapping their luscious lips around a Bounty in lieu of my being around to offer something more substantial...
It's very hard to sit in a meeting and take the individual doing a presentation seriously when she's got a camel's toe. (Tabatha is sitting here insisting that it is camel's foot.) (To settle this we googled the two phrases. She's right, it can be camel's foot. I'm right, far more hits for toe.) I mean, really difficult. How am I supposed to concentrate? And to make matters worse, she realises that there is something going on, and starts making surreptitious attempts to unshackle herself. "Have you got a problem, love?" I helpfully offered.
This week was Budget week, and everybody's favourite party animal Gordy got up and did his thang, which was that there are no massive changes for anybody, unless you are super-rich or super-poor. And this week is also the 60th Anniversary of the foundation of the EU, with the signing of the original Treaty of Rome. I'm a big fan of the European project. For many reasons. Amongst these is the fact that 60 years is about the longest we have ever gone in this continent without killing one another on a massive scale, that I like getting cars and booze on the cheap, that I like being able to travel with relative freedom, that I am protected by some pretty tasty human rights and employment laws, and, most of all, my grandfather really didn't like the idea of being chums with Johnny Foreigner. I can't think of a better recommendation.
Today I have a problem with giggling, which was a little embarrassing in Waitrose this morning. This is due to the fact that I woke up yesterday with severe cramp in my lower legs, drool all over the pillow, a tongue swollen to Oliveresque proportion and a fucker of a headache, yes, the LPS had paid a call overnight. Which meant that yesterday was a write-off. But today has meant a lot of playing silly buggers, giggling inanely at aforementioned supermarket, and generally pratting about. So I'm off to giggle a bit more, then I might come back here and write something worth writing.