In some other reality.

No, tonight pop pickers, I am cooking myself something to eat of the "unknown but lets see what is lurking in the freezer" variety

Looking after Sarah and getting her into bed at a reasonable hour as Jo is out for a couple of hours tonight

And possibly ironing some of the big pile of clean clothes in my room, before they topple over and get more creased.

Spare me those envious glances, you can't all be me you know - you wouldn't be able to handle the pace.

Ahem.

So don't feel at all compeled to send me a text at all. Just to let me know there is a world of excitement out there beyond the ironing.

No, no I'll be fine. I enjoy ironing.

sniff.

As alot of people on my friends list are mentioning that sport. I will not sully my eyes with words about that dull waste of time.

So what is going on here. Well thankfully a lot of bods in the office are on leave so it is quieter than normal. Good - less people to talk about you know what.

In blogland..

Some people on my friends list are busy doing the thanksgiving thing, whatever that is. Probably giving thanks that the natives didn't give back the infected blankets or something.

People are getting ready to travel, some people are still trying to recover from traveling and rescue their jobs, some people are trying to get well enough to welcome travelers and some of us are just generally going "Eeeeeep!"

Some of us are worried about others, and others of us are worried about nothing.

so all in all.

Trumpets.

The scene - an office in london.

The camera pans across the desks to a visibly vibrating with rage office worker. He is devilishly balding and slightly handsome at the front.

His workmates are jabbering around him with each other over their coffees and such.

Suddenly the stressed worker jumps up on top of his desk and brandishes his staple gun like a Colt 45 - clasped in both hands straight out in front of him and screams

"ANY OF YOU FUCKING PRICKS MENTIONS THE FOOTBALLL AGAIN AND I'LL EXECUTE EVERY LAST MOTHERFUCKING ONE OF YOU!"

Cue Miserlou by Dick Dale at high volume

Fade to black.

There are, right now at this moment, a grand total of three people in this office.

Me

My line manager

A worker on the other team.

Two of the above are going on and on about the bloody football last night,

and one of them is going for a ciggie before he starts throwing sharp pointy things at the other two.

ahem.

I hope you have a good one and get everything you desire.

Now I have only met you once so I don't know what sort of stuff you desire on your birthday. But being an observant sort I did notice that you were a bloke, so I can imagine what sort of thing you will desire on your birthday.

Yep.

A Scaletrix set!

What did you think I meant?

Mucky minded bastard.