This week I'll be mostly on holiday

As I'm on holiday and am 
unable to take a suitable photo, 
here's one I prepared earlier.

I'm on holiday, so there won't be much to say (you'll be pleased to hear).

As we speak, well, as I write, well, as I type, I'm just down the road from where we used to live in Broadstairs, in bed with the missus who is finishing off some book or other, while I think of something to write about the fact that I haven't had time to think about what to write, what with being on holiday and everything.

I'm able to write and post this because the friends we are staying with have just today got wireless internet installed in their home. I was lured in with the usual "hey, you work in computers" conversation, which moved swiftly into the "so you might be able to give us some advice" arena, at which point I (un)wittingly invoked the "while I'm here I could sort it out for you" clause. Within 12 hours I had recommended, supervised the purchase of, and carried out the installation of, a nice shiny Wireless 802.11g ADSL router. All in return for a couple of evenings of good company, an all-day-breakfast, and a few bottles of Stella.

Beats work any day.

This week I'll be mostly all fingers and one thumb

Ouch.

My weekday apartment is just round the corner from the hospital, so I've always figured that if something dire happened to me during the week, I'd at least be able to drag myself round to the A&E ward with - say - my severed leg in a carrier bag and ask them to stitch it back on for me. For this reason, I haven't bothered getting any plasters or antiseptic cream in, because who needs that when you've got the States of Jersey health service on 24 hour standby.

So a couple of days ago when I cut my thumb on a tin of grapefruit segments, it didn't come as much of a surprise to find that I had no plasters in the place. I checked anyway. This was no ordinary cut - it was a man cut. (You've all seen the 'man cold' bit of video on YouTube that's doing the rounds?)

I was on the verge of putting my severed thumb in a carrier bag to take round to the hospital when I decided instead just to stick the little bit of skin back down again and see if it would stop bleeding. It did. Although it would start again at the drop of a hat: when typing, doing the washing up, putting my shoes on, during meetings about regulatory changes to Foreign Exchange deal confirmation. That kind of stuff.

You take your thumbs for granted, and then having to do things without one of them for a couple of days is a bit of a mare. It makes you wonder how the rest of the animal kingdom get by without their opposable thumbs. I mean, fancy being a cat and only being able to bat at a ping-pong ball, but not being able to flick it with your thumb and put some side spin on it making it curve across the carpet. Or being a cheetah pounding gracefully across the plains hunting down a tasty looking gazelle only to find that you have to claw and bite at your dinner rather than getting a good hold on it like one might with a KFC.

Anyway, I must stop there and get something to wipe all this red stuff off the right hand side of my keyboard.

This week I'll be mostly wondering who I am

The incredible hulk?

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Bruce Banner and The Hulk. Penry and Hong Kong Phooey. Niki and Jessica. They've all got one thing in common. Or is that two things in common?

In here inside t'internet we are not necessarily ourselves. Well, maybe I speak for myself. As Hugh Simon would say if (a) he were here, (b) he were a real person, and (c) we were still doing What's Up Doc quotes: "I don't know who he is, but she is definitely not herself."

So while I'm coming up with some worthless drivel to put on here this week, one of the other internet versions of me is out there on some other web site trotting out some other worthless drivel about something or other under an assumed name to avoid embarrassment.

Here's the thing then. Am I the real me? Can I keep being the real me in here? Is it easier to be the real you on some other site with a fake name? Out there I can tell you what I'm thinking, because you don't actually know who I am. But in here...

... I fear I'm getting a bit serious. So let's call it a day. Tune in next week for some other worthless drivel that might at least fall into the 'light-hearted and vaguely humourous' category.

If you're lucky.

This week I'll be mostly frightened of an indian meal

Arrgghhh.

A few weeks back I was clever enough to give myself food poisoning. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say ... (ah, no, I said I'd spare you the details). Anyway, food poisoning isn't much fun. We've all been there, dashing off to the ... (oops, I said I'd spare you the details).

On occasions like that, what you need is someone to tuck you up in bed with a fresh cup of water, put a large bowl on the floor by the bed, and make sure there's a clear run to the lavatorial facilities. You take these things for granted until one day you find that you're yacking ... (sorry, the details) ... you're not well, and the lovely someone who would tuck you in is 150 miles away with the English Channel in the way.

But I digress.

The last thing I'd eaten before I found myself heaving up ... (yes, I know, the details, I'm sparing them) ... basically, I'd had this M&S indian. Looked lovely on the box. Tasted OK. Came with a free balti dish too. "Tender pieces of chicken breast cooked to a traditional balti recipe in a spicy curry sauce". Whatever. Didn't taste so nice on the way up ... (oh, the details).

When I'd recovered I sprayed the entire apartment with bleach. Obviously I lean towards the obsessive and compulsive anyway, so on this occasion I really went to town. In fact, after taking the remainder of the indian out of the freezer just for the 'photo opportunity' for this blog, I spent a good deal of time scrubbing my hands with a wire brush (OK, that last bit is a lie, but I was washing my hands like a surgeon).

So here's the point.

I figured that one day I might fancy an indian again. But I don't know that I will. Certainly not an M&S balti with naan bread and starter selection. That box of "samosas - delicately folded in a crisp pastry and stuffed with spicy minced meat and peas" went straight from the photo shoot into the bin.

Instead, tonight I'll be indulging in a "moist and flaky portion of fillet of cod coated in a light, crispy breadcrumb". Cod 'n' chips to me and you.