Welcome to hell

Got some sort of deep-lung cough over the weekend that almost knocked the house windows out. Not too popular for that one. And this morning, of course, the flight was 2 hours late. Not bad for a 1 hour flight. When I got to the seventh level of hell that is London Heathrow - the tubes were broken. Bus job then.

Finally got into work, all happy and skippy, still wearing my (freshly laundered from last week) CULT T-Shirt.

I thought nothing could possibly dislodge my happy trippy mood of post-lotussphere euphoria.


3 hours at work did the trick. This place (that shall remain nameless) drains your soul. Its like working in the movie "Brazil", crossed over with some chainsaw horror movie. Okay, the latter bit is what's going on inside MY head...

Roll on March. Anyone looking for a cynical, overweight, burnt-out script jockey with an evil sense of humour, and more blackmail material on IBM personnel than Microsoft ?