playing Doctor

Summer! It's bloody hot, and I have a headache, but the day is bearable because Cape Town is having an outbreak of southeaster, and it's gusting like a bugger out there. I love driving in heavy wind. I have to be preternaturally alert on the highway in my small, light Mermaid-car, to tack appropriately into the buffets. A misspent youth reading Arthur Ransome finally becomes, in the most unlikely way, useful.

I am forced to the conclusion that most of the Usual Suspects are busy lying around groaning after what my family calls Too Much Kissmass; except for strawberryfrog and pinkthulhu, who are clearly hanging around in my comments pages, whiling away the dead time at work. Ah, them holidays. Mine is still filled with millyuns of social engagements; I've just staggered home, headache-infested, from a truly lovely evening hosted by Mike for rumint, at the former's larney penthouse, filled, as usual, with incredible food. This message brought to you courtesy of the twenty-minute gap between arriving home and the painkillers kicking in, at which time I shall describe a graceful ninety-degree arc to the horizontal position, with any luck coinciding it approximately with my bed. This evening also unexpectedly featured the famous James, who, after having been absent from my life for the better part of ten years, is suddenly popping up all over. (Including reading this blog - hi, James!).

The dreaded wytchfynder's new challenge: the top 5 things you'd like to be that start with the same letter as your journal name. I'm cursing Dorothy Parker and the bloody E, since mostly what I'd like to be right now is blissfully oblivious. However, here's my list.

• Eminent.
• Egregious.
• Eccentric.
• Emancipated.
• Euphonious.

Etcetera. Go on, you try.