Chef re-discovered honey yesterday. Now all the saucepans, ladles, plates, spoons and staff are covered with the bloody stuff, and it’s my job to scrape it off and flush it down the sink. And even I have limits, let me tell you.
So yes, you’re right Peter I did make a big song and dance about re-starting this, and then do nothing afterwards. But hey, if I wanted criticism I’d phone my mother – let me know if you’d like her number, but don’t, whatever you do, ask her how she’s been recently. The answer is “Better than I was – Oh, but you don’t know that I’ve been poorly because you haven’t called for so long now……….”
Mothers.
Oh, and I have another excuse, apart from the one where I explain at tedious length that I have a real job, here look at my hands, that’s washing-up hands for you not the damp-but-otherwise-perfect model items you see in the Fairy Liquid adverts. Peeling skin, that’s washing-up hands for you; holes the size of Ecuador in my knuckles, that’s washing-up hands for you.
Anyway. Excuse: I fucked up my computer, and I use that term advisedly and with due consideration for the technicalities of the matter. First, AVG let a virus in and buggered the MFTs on ALL my hard discs (see http://www.drkeyboard.net for the tedious technical details of this one if you must); then a disc went bad on me – a 40GB Maxtor which was touching six years old, so not bad, I replaced it with a 200GB Maxtor for more or less the loose change from down the back of the sofa; then the motherboard went bad (OK, OK, I messed up the BIOS and that was my fault, but I have an excuse for that, too, I was trying to get it to work with a new Sempron 3000+ which it refused to recognise); then the new motherboard (EUR44? Are you kidding? For a motherboard with sound, Ethernet and six USB2 ports? Good grief) wouldn’t boot and, just as I was about to rip it out, I read the instructions and moved a jumper and, walla walla, it works). So that all started at about the time I proudly boasted that I’m Back and I’m Bouncin’ (well, some word that means ‘writing’ but which begins with a ‘b’ – you only miss sub-editors when you don’t have one to hand, don’t you?) and there you go. And I’ve been working hard, so there.
So my left hand’s getting much better all the time, thankyou. I can now type more or less normally. The ends of the first two fingers still tingle when I tap, but my thumb has regained completely all feeling, so that’s cool. However my right hand is now starting to play up, although the Ruta Grav appears to be helping. We’ll see.
And work’s going great. Apart from all the bloody honey, anyway.
We’re up to our elbows in stupid stagaires, which gives us all something to shout at and about, and things are fairly quiet at the moment anyway apart from the occasional passing tourist. It’ll warm up soon, though.
Oh yes, and if you’re the person who stuck your chewing gum to your coffee cup saucer the other day – step out the back round by the dustbins and wait for me, would you? I’ll be the one carrying the baseball bat.