Wow, today is really dragging. I’ve got a ton of stuff to do in the next 6 weeks but it’s a bit of a flipping punch up the numbers job, so I’m starting to look at the clock every 10 minutes. Yawnsville.

Meanwhile the search for a new flatmate to replace No1 steps up a gear – we are about to actually advertise. This is the fun bit, or it would be if FM2 was going to be about – never mind – means I get to to interview the tide of human scum that will shortly be lapping up against our front door begging admittance. Which leaves me free to accept a) the prettiest one regardless of clear mental deficiencies b) some kind of vegetable who’s personality I can mould to my freakish purpose without noticeable effort c) the one who offers me money.

Actually I just hope we can find someone who isn’t a total freak, ie doesn’t fill the flat with the bitter aroma of tension and barely contained violence and/or some sort of druggie and/or washing up nazi.. Can always get rid of them I suppose – could be tricky what with our highly original approach to contracts and legal niceties. But all that is yet to come – here’s hoping for the best.

Crap – I just cannot stop yawning. I’m sitting in my ex-cube (my cube has been deconstructed in the interests of cramming more people in, now a sort of open plan rectangle) and my head is spinning with tedium . . only 65 . . . mins to go . . . gotta . . . stay . . . . .awa . . . z z z z z z z z z