Well, the weeping angels didn't stalk me over the weekend (unless the reason my stove has no gas is because they're to blame…), so that's all to the good, I suppose. The dog also gave it a rest last night, which was definitely to the good. (Alternatively, I suppose the weeping angels, or some other good samaritan, may have dispatched the dog.)
I am currently attempting to catch up with a friend from overseas, who's in town for the week. Turns out phones are immensely useful things – but only if you can both be available at the same time. His body clock appears to run on a different time zone to mine. Add a dash of uncontactability on my side due to all the training at the dayjob,1 and a dollop of uncontactability on his side due to carrier-locked phones and the prohibitive cost of global roaming, and the result is a succession of increasingly demented emails flitting between the two of us wherein we bemoan the impossibilities of us simultaneously occupying the same square yard of Australia at some point this week.
Meanwhile I've been fighting with the gas supply company who maintain I need to definitively establish whether the units in my block are separately metered, and I respond with "I keep telling you, I FOUND the gas meters, and there's TEN OF THEM, ONE FOR EACH UNIT, and furthermore, they're very helpfully numbered for you."
It seems quite simple to me, but then what do I know?
As further proof of which, turns out all that cellophane-wrapped flesh in the supermarket is delivered humanely: Meat FAIL.
- Which, this week, I kid you not, featured a compulsory tic-tac-toe competition. That's right, people — your tax dollars at work. [↩]
(And huzzah!)