Addiction

I am not an addictive personality. I can use the drugs I have tried (legal, I'm a bit prissy like that) without cravings establishing themselves. Alcohol I like but can happily spend a few days without, painkillers I take as little as possible, even morphine, nice though it is, did not trap me in its sleepy, cotton-woolen, and above all slimming arms. I came off it as soon as I could, too soon as it turned out, ouch, but I didn't like being on it. It was beguiling, but just not right.

But I think I have met my match in the form of a computer game called Civilization. And all I can say to the person who introduced me to it, is this: I have a LAN cable and I think the copy of the game that you so kindly gave me handles multiplayer. I am coming over, and you had better get the supplies in and marshal your puny military, cultural and scientific forces, because it won't be over until your puny nation have been ground into their malaria-infested marshlands and you yourself in all your imperial grandeur have been reduced to Ozymandias's feet.

I can't think of a game designed to madden a civil servant more. What, honestly, do I need temples for? Why is Bismark so ratty? Why do I have to put in an aqueduct to seaside cities when plains cities without freshwater access don't seem to need one?

Aaaaaargh!

You may not hear from me for a bit...

POTTY!

Phone rings.
Me: Hello?
My cousin: Hey there it's me, how NO ON THE POTTY, ON THE POTTY! are you?
Me: Very well thank you. How about you?
M.C.: Well we're all NO THE POTTY QUICK THE POTTY! very well.
Me: Good to hear. How can I be of service this evening?
M.C.: Well I wanted to invite you AAAAARGH NO ON THE POTTY OH GOD IT'S GONE EVERYWHERE.
Me: Do you want me to call you back in a few minutes when you've dealt with this minor family event?
M.C. No it'll be fine. Well, anyway, Mum and Dad are coming over and so we were wondering DON'T WALK ABOUT IN IT AAARGH whether you'd like to come around.
Me: It'll be lovely to see them. When would it be convenient?
M.C.: Well you're probably out at some fantastic party on Saturday aren't you? STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M BRINGING A CLOTH.
Me: As a matter of fact, I'm not at some fantastic party on Saturday evening, so I'd be free then.
M.C.: Could you come around for 5:30 then? We'll probably eat really early. AAAARGH NOT ON THE CARPET!
Me: Love to. See you then.
*CLICK*

Two things about having all your friends become young parents simultaneously are the following. One, they ring up and yell at you about potties. Two, they all suspect that because you've not got kids, you're getting out a lot more and having a much nicer time than they are. I'm sorry, there's just no getting around this. After the conversation I've just had, I think they're probably right. Still, someone has to pay for my pension, so I shake all my young parent friends by the hand (after checking first and if necessary offering them a wetwipe) and encourage them to keep at it.

Ay ay ay, tengo un examen....

Por favor, desean mi suerte por mi examen de Español mañana, si, es verdad, es mañana por la mañana.

Tengo que tener exito, porque quiero aprender el flamenco....

Should I sue?

Daffers stopped me as I was coming in last night, and very kindly handed me one of these:


Look what is all of a sudden available from Yves Rocher!

Tomato and Basil hand soap!

Hands up who thinks I should sue... Or do I have to wait until they produce Tomato and Basil Sandwiches soap?

Happy New Year 2008!

I'm off for a week or so. Maybe I'll tell you about it when I get back. Maybe not. In the meantime, a little Mornington Crescent, I think.

Here's the map. Heathrow Terminal 4, I think.