You’d have thought that by now I’d be getting my voice back, but for some reason it’s still something of a rasp. This morning the postman woke me up at 7.50am to sign for the Idlewild tickets – much as I love the Woomble, 7.50 on a Saturday morning does not exist in my little world – so I was inspired to whack on a few albums as I cleaned the flat in preparation for the parents. My ‘singing’ is never good at the best of times, but remove half my vocal range and any sense of pitch and the result is, um, interesting. Halfway through my rendition of You Held The World In Your Arms the cat demanded to go out.

Believe it or not I’ve actually logged on this evening to do some work. I got a phone call yesterday evening to say that someone in the US has decided that a bunch of stuff has to be removed from the website I work on by the end of the month. (Don’t ask; really, it’s better that way.) Riiiight… the office is, like, closed until 2 January, so to avoid the US production team ripping down half the site I’m going to trawl the site myself and send them instructions. In the words of Band Aid, do they know it’s Christmas? What’s with the 8pm-Friday-before-Christmas panicking phone calls? *sigh* Oh well. Better doing an hour now than trying to patch everything back together in January…


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