Tuesday Blues

My Grandma telephoned last night telling me she was sending money so that I could buy a new dressing gown. She wouldn't let it go and of course took it as a personal affront that I didn't want one, as if the years of bacon sandwiches in bed and emergency rescue cheques at university were all for nothing. So now I'm going to have to lie or give in to the dressing gown pressure group, which is steadily growing. She actually thinks I'm about 12 years old. I should be more charitable she is 83 years old. And has some very nice etched sherry glasses and an East African bonewood standard lamp I've got my eye on. I'd have to have the shade reupholstered but the carving is really very special.

Not wanting to sound like a Victor Meldrew in the making, my BT Home Hub continues to be nothing but a source of anger and irritation. I took some photos out of the window of my Posh New Office of the Florida style-hurricane/twister/tropical storm that advanced upon London yesterday with the intention of dragging my blog into the realms of multimedia and couldn't get online again. Then I was disconnected whilst talking to Mum on the phone and then I saw an advertisement for said Home Hub in between the Channel Four News and Fifth Gear telling me how reliable it was. The ridiculous flashing blinking thing may look very modern but is certainly not the the hub of my home because it doesn't work. Trying to connect and sustain successful wireless broadband has been the singularly most stressful aspect of my existence over the past five years, across two addresses and two service providers. That and losing all my credit cards every three months and never being able to find my glasses. The one consolation is that I don't have to read or have any involvement in the publication of Trademark World.