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being at home, ill.

Act I: Actually, this got underway last night, probably, but someone called round to say there was a load of rubbish on the back street outside our garage. I hate fly-tippers. I've reported it to Ealing, they're going to come round and have a look (at least).

Act II: The recurring sales call from for the non-existant Mr. Garrod. (If informed Mr. Garrod is non-existent, "the homeowner" will apparently do. In our case, the homeowner is the Church Of England (will, the Diocese of London), someday I will come up with a witty way of getting this across).

Neither of these were helped by:

a) our phone's reception not being very good, so people can hardly ever hear us anyway

b) my voice being almost non-existant at the moment

And my sinsuses are throbbing, and my throat and nose sting. At least the squirrels in the roofspace seem to have gone out for the day.


Fortunately over the weekend I replaced my Windows hard drive (the previous one had a fit and suddenly decided it was going to transform from a 20Gb drive into a 2Gb drive) so can work from home (when able to focus) or more realistically play UT2004 from home (focussing not so necessary). However, even just writing all this out is making my eyes hurt, so maybe not today.

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araqnid
Steve Haslam

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