Sorry I've been quiet - I've just spent a week on-call for work. This involved keeping a mobile with me 24X7 and being able to log in and fix any problems within an hour of it ringing. That means no cinema or theatre, no restaurants or parties, and no booze for a week. But the money comes in handy. I came off call at 3 o'clock yesterday afternoon and celebrated with 20 lengths of the health club pool, and a reacquantance with gin, wine and vodka. My head fairly nipped this morning, I can tell you. We went to see Lost In Translation. This made me want to visit Tokyo. I identified more with Bill Murray's character Bob Harris (no, not that Bob Harris) tremendously, and told Helen she now knew all she would ever need to know about men.
Wedding plans continue apace. We've booked the honeymoon, and ordered the dress. Next come the invitations. It's agony. Not only do I look at my list and think "Is this all I've got to show for nearly 38 years on this planet?" but the compromises and fiddles are soul-sapping. I'm looking forward to it, though. Just as well, I suppose.
Helen is out tonight and tomorrow night, so I might get some life laundering done. Tonight I am planning to audit my recent DVD recordings and cook a pork vindaloo. These are exclusively male activities, you'll agree. I have to come up with a short story outline, too. It's not coming easily a second time. Colin and Alex are coming for dinner on Saturday, so I'll get to cook that goose I ordered for Christmas. To my delight, the latest Doctor Who audio seems to be utter bilge. And I'm told I'm far more entertaining when I'm being savage.
This is the Caledonian Brewery, near our house, with the Edinburgh-Glasgow railway line in the foreground