I was going to go into work today. I had good intentions to. However, a hacking cough changed my mind and I think I'll just sit out the bank holiday and try and get well.

37 yesterday. And I feel crappy cos I have a nasty bout of flu. Feeling a bit sorry for myself today, birthdays aren't meant to be like that; in bed for most of the day as I felt better asleep than I did awake.

Having an internet radio means that you can access some 6,500+ stations from around the world. We were listening to the aftermath reports from Dominica last night, this morning we're listening to Jamaica. Dean has not hit them yet, and the announcer sounds calm, but you can sense a terrible undercurrent of fear. Joking aside of how incredibly laid back most Jamaicans are (moving in a slow hurry today) or the weather forecasts (its gonna get a bit windy out there) I am very nearly on the verge of tears. They are coming through so loud and clear they could only be just up the road. The faith that is pouring forth from so many of them just makes me realise how blessed I am, when so many Jamaicans are worrying about food, water and even their homes. God bless each and every one of them, they will be on my mind for the next 24 hours and beyond.

OK someone, somewhere must be having a laugh at my expense. Though I have to say that, internally at least, I find my situation somewhat bizarre, and have to chuckle a bit. Have had some trouble with my right big toe. First I thought I must have bruised it. Then I thought maybe I wrenched it somehow. I went to the docs today, expecting oh yeah just a bit of arthritis take these tablets come back if it doesn't clear up so forth, so twenty-eighth.

Um...no. Doc wants to rule out gout.

Gout??!!

Oh well had to happen one day.

Feeling old, frankly. Just had an upsetting phonecall with SOH, not an argument exactly, more just a case of him (again) refusing to let go of a subject, even though it's time to move on.

Same sort of weekend. Didn't do a lot, though the SOH is having fun with the Internet Radio and is not threatening to take this one back. Whilst he's happy I can pretty much do as I please (although secretly he's wanting me to follow less selfish pursuits).

CW has come back as CF, lightly tanned and happy to have married her soldier. It now turns out that Mr F is not going to Iraq as was originally thought, so she can go and join him down south. So, one short on that team in a month, maybe they'll make one of the temps permanent? {re-reads sentence for sense, shrugs, carries on }.

Must must must must MUST lose some weight. I can't get my wedding ring off, even though I would never want to, it would be fairly embarassing if I went to hospital again and they would have to tape over it, rather than remove it. Haven't decided how I'm going to do it, but I'm not going to go in for that horrible shake diet that TB is currently following. Frankly, I would prefer to starve.

Bliss. A day away from the phones is almost as refreshing as a week long holiday. I was doing other stuff today, still related to the-rather-well-known-utilities-company, it involved getting what I know about the client on paper. Or at least on a Word document. Word gets me so aggravated though, why does it constantly guess what you're doing? Why does it keep changing fonts, margins and numbering for no reason and at random? I reckon it's a Bill Gates conspiracy, perhaps he had a bad experience with a secretary years ago. The ultimate revenge for taking out the swear words in his correspondence to those very nice people at IBM.

Ho for the weekend. Felt a bit odd coming home tonight and then realised that, for the first time in 3 weeks, I wasn't going to Llandudno tonight.

I published and edited this entry three times tonight. Something very odd is happening. Normally I ignore the rough bits in my writing.

I updated this diary yesterday before I started the casual surfing that I normally do each evening. I noticed first, with some satisfaction, that blogger have restored the google type links in your profile (perhaps they should be called 'bloggles'?) where you click on an item in your interests and that gives you a list of everyone else who has such an item in their's. Last time I tried this, I was the only one with 'Mike Ripley'. Now there are two, although he does like the more serious crime writers, whom I find a bit too heavy and/or scary.

So...casually, I put in "Mike Ripley" blog in Google, just to see if anyone, on any blog, anywhere, reads his books. Oddly enough, I would never have found the article that mentions my activities on Amazon, had Mike not mentioned a blog earlier in the article ("writer's blog"....hahaha I'll have to try and remember that one), the one that caught my eye was result "In cold blog. Last time out, I delighted in the news that my old and .... even producing an Amazon Top Ten Mike Ripley Books, which is flattering to say the "

Ah....ding dong....I produced the Top Ten Mike Ripley Books on Amazon, so I had to click the link. And I've been seriously 'made up' about it ever since, until the novelty wears off, or probably something happens at work that sends me back down to earth with a hefty and painful bump.

But...everyone needs something like this. When times are bad, or I feel shitty and/or unloved, I can remember this and smile.

Bit weird at work at the moment. I'm treated as boss of the payroll I'm on...but I'm not. I'm sort of enjoying the power without the responsibility.

With 21 new maternities to process today, the conversation turned to the question of the record for the highest number of children to one woman. Turns out it was 69, a Russian woman in the 18th century. She had her first at 17/18 and had a total of 27 confinements (obviously some twins and triplets in there too). Imagine if that happened today on a British payroll. Would drive the payroll department loopy.

It seems summer has arrived. Bout time too.

Had a hard time keeping my composure over the phone today when a guy with a Dublin accent called from the CSA to tell me that an order previously sent was wrong - "So-it-is.". Reminded me of HK in the Surrey office who used to say it all the time, sometimes in a tongue-in-cheek way to emphasise his 'Irishness'.

About 28 hours. That's how long SOH lasted before realising that he could live with mains hum, he needs wireless internet radio. Knew it was going to happen, I know him too well.

Unfortunately, it meant tackling the pretty dire Sunday public transport they have round here. Key in your request to National Rail Enquiries or Arriva, you get nothing but a page of someone clothed in blue and green rolling on the floor and wetting themselves laughing. Well, OK, not quite, but they might as well. Getting into Rhuddlan wasn't too bad but getting back I knew would be hassle. Eventually we got a cab all the way home; the cabbie was on his last shift ever with the company and just charged us a tenner, cos he really didn't give a stuff - had a new job delivering Welsh meat in London.

Two cups of tea and a bacon sandwich later, I've relaxed. And it's been worth it for the smile on the SOH's face.

I was up 'til about 1:30am. Just playing about on the Tosh whilst the SOH sulked about suddenly going from around 5000 radio stations to 20. New bee in his bonnet about getting a Tivoli. Nice. Nice quality. Nice product. Nice price too (not).

Needless to say, wasn't up until about midday and went shopping late, but got bacon. No, real bacon. Having been desperate enough to get the supermarket stuff (mostly water) couldn't stands no more. There's something really satisfying about having Welsh meat in your fridge, knowing you're going to eat well in the next week and not having to nip into Somerfields for some processed crap.

SOH is 'sharing' the PC, by playing Smooth Lounge to his speakers via the headphone outlet, meaning I have to remember to turn my game sounds down. However, since it's Chill, the whistles and random midi interruptions make him think that's its all part of the track. Maybe I'm missing my vocation here. A mixure of Burger Island, Theme Hospital, Lemmings and Civ and we have another 'Music for Lifts'.

Ah. Seems JS is set on being a nurse. Well, I bet that patients are more polite than our employees, or at less you can jab some morphine in patients to keep them quiet, whereas with the employees you can only have weird fantasies.

In other news, we took the Internet Radio back to the shop today and did not walk away with another one. So tonight and tomorrow the search is on for another. Had KFC tonight, first in about 2 years, and despite a lame seagull, which I nicknamed Harry, wanting to share it whilst we sat on the prom enjoying the sunshine and the view, think it was the best takeaway experience in ages. Gosh, It girls would think what a sad life I lead, but believe you me, I am happy. Very happy. Are you?

LW walked out of work yesterday. I think they heard my jaw drop in Rhyl, causing EL to burst into hysterics. Totally unprofessional way to behave (LW that is, not EL, I had to laugh about it), regardless of how much you may hate the job and the client. And besides, she was so darn quiet that it was difficult to know what she was thinking at any time unless you could read her mind. Some people just don't know when they're blessed.

Anyways, JH is back on Monday, and his jaw will drop even further methinks so I will enjoy that, teehee may get some wicked mileage out of it. Amazingly, LW has been replaced today (already), fresh from the agency, by JS. For once, they seem technically orientated and good for a laugh once they've been here a while. On only their first day they were asking about permanent work. Gosh they're keen, they haven't had the rather-well-known-utilities-company bedside manner yet, which can either have you crying into your tea or running screaming into the hills to bang your head against a few rocks.

SOH unhappy with the Internet Radio, but has phoned up the shop who are happy to exchange. Result in our lives for once.

My SOH got me crying last night. No, he wasn't horrible, he was maudling about the hateful day when two may become one. It was all I could do to stop myself sobbing hysterically.

You see, with the age gap between me and my other half, it is my nightmare, the one I pray the day never comes, or at least pray for me to be properly prepared. I love him so much. He has been part of me for the last 20 years. How would I cope without him? Would I want to? It's all very well for me to insist that suicide is against all my beliefs, but who would be around to care?

Such talk is awful I know, but has to come out.