The car is still holed up in Toyota, where several tests to discover why I can’t get the bleedin’ thing in gear have proved inconclusive. This is now causing something of a problem as I work 40 miles away and need to get there. It also sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, as people don’t believe that a reputable garage could take so long to discover a problem on one of their own cars. The woman at Toyota also has a knack of making me feel guilty for asking about what they’re up to with my car. Anyway, have worked from home, at great expense to my own phone bill, and done a blistering job although don’t feel as if the management think along the same lines as me and won’t thank me for it. Should have just pulled a sicky like everyone else would have done.
M has had her hair cut and looks better than ever. Which is great given my present state: full of cold, congested, smelling of Lockets, nose emitting lots of nasty fluids. Just what a gal with funky hair is looking for. Actually, I really should have pulled a sicky – I’m in no fit state to work.
Book I’m dribbling snot on: The Ultras, by Eoin Macnamee.