Not sure it's too clever to be up for 28 hours without sleep, folks so this is a quickie. I'm currently waxing my left arm. Actually, this is not quite true. I've got selotape on it, holding cotton wool, which is indicative that I managed my twelve hour starve and had my blood test. That hurt. Quite a lot actually. How junkies can do that to themselves for entertainment, I just cannot fathom. Chewing my way through the indecipherable dialect of Trainspotting at the moment, so you'd think I'd get some in sight. Muchos empathy with those friends of mine, they know who they are, who have to submit to this sort of stuff on a regular basis and for whom it has become routine, especially those who don't like needles, like me. No. Anyway, sure the test didn't hurt as much as getting that tape off my arm is going to. Down to the quacks at teatime to find out just how screwed I actually am. Oh how I am looking forward to this. Not. What I want to hear is "Mr Shadey, we've discovered you're immortal and you're going to get richer, better looking and happier with every year". Somehow I don't think this is going to be what I'm reporting later.

Hmmmmm.

Well, an annoying one last night. I was due in at midnight, 'coz of the course and a desperate attempt to not completely screw me over with work and no rest. Got in early to discover the rest of the team had deployed at nine, and in fact weren't expecting me in at all. That would explain the lack of any attempt to contact me beforehand. Should learn to read the rosters. Made contact through discrete means, established I was in fact in the office, established that they wanted me there, then found out where "there" was, planned a route, got kitted up and took the 4WD beasty out, as it was the only discrete vehicle left. Ahem. That's my excuse for taking a toy out anyway. Sweating my nadgers off in full night time sneaky type gear isn't my idea of fun, and frankly I'm glad the opposition chose not to come and play last night. I was in no mood or condition to play with local scrote and foreign crims. Unfortunately the evening ended stuck with two juvenile Yorkshiremen who're freshly trained, still think they're the mutts nuts and still think farting at each other in a confined space is funny.

God help us.