I was in a grim state last night. My temperature was rising, my visits to the toilet increasingly frantic and frequent, and I felt dreadful. Why is it that medicine never tastes nice? Grin and bear it, Caldrail, you'll feel better in the morning. And so I was. The cold damp morning didn't put me off at all. After the heavy showers of yesterday, the big screen television bolted to the side of the multi-story car park insisted today was going to bring drizzle. I think they might have a different definition of drizzle than we do in Swindon - it was raining very robustly this afternoon.

KS also arrived for work fit and healthy. It turns out that he did indeed set his clock so out of sync with the rest of the universe that his mother had to rescue him from his time/space anomaly by shouting up the stairs to enquire whether he was going to work that day. So he phoned in sick. And, as we now know, he even got away with that. But I digress.

He later complained of being knackered from his football last night. Football? You were off sick and still played football? Well there you have it. Forget expensive medicines and other conventional treatments - go out and play football with your mates. A tried and tested cure for all ills.

Do This.. No... Do That

It was going on all day. My boss has been to Egypt for a holiday (no doubt to learn how slaves should be treated and efficiently employed to stack cartons) and whilst the brochures and television ads make tempting visions of sun and sand, the reality of Egypt is that it's a very unfriendly place for us westerners. So I guess she learned a great deal from her police overseers whilst she was there.

Every so often she would pull me to one side and get me to set about a task designed to bring patient men to the very edge of of explosive temper. And when I set about my task, usually around ten minutes later whilst I'm still getting organised, she gets overrulled by her boss and another task, much harder and exacting, is presented to me. It was a bit like playing a computer game where you advance to the next level before you've done anything. Just a helpless spiral of human endurance and mental capacity.

She was watching our every move.

Matters of Boris

It seems being called Boris really does things for your popularity. Walking along the high street a couple of pretty girls remarked "Oooh look, there's Boris"

Hey, I've still got it. But the other Boris in the news is our Mayor of London, who has proclaimed that our capital city is to made the 'Centre of fun for the whole universe'. Zaphod Beeblebrox please take note. Good for you Boris. Maybe the 2012 Olympics will be fun after all. So at least we'll be able to laugh and remember the good times when the bills roll in.

Poetry Corner

Look, I know I once wrote a poem on this blog but please don't think I do this sort of thing ordinarily. You see, KS has requested, nay, begged me to include his poem written to Mrs T. This is all his own work, I take no responsibility for injuries caused by mirth, anger, or indeed any psychological trauma resulting from this poem. Here goes...

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Show me some boxes

I'll do them for you

Stacking's okay

Prepping's alright

But when I'm with you

My day shines bright

Ugh. Ghastly. And completely dishonest. KS has voiced his opinion that assisting Mrs T is like being married. What's that on your head? No, there... Look... A thumbprint on top of your head...