There is a reason for the recent eerie silence: I’ve been ill. Yes, I know it doesn’t happen that often but it is still a possibility and in this case it was very real. Throat turning to sandpaper, constricting painfully making swallowing a minute long ordeal, and brain struggling valiantly to beat its way out of my skull. The usual. That said, I’m pretty sure this is just the regular variety of flu rather than that of our feathered friends, so there’s that to be grateful for. It did still leave me hiding from the world in dark room for most of Monday. Since I don’t make a habit of getting ill and have already taken my Annual Painkillers, I didn’t really have much in the way of medication. Friends were great however and I soon found myself surrounded by a strange assortment of dubious Ukrainian drugs (thanks Irina) and Singaporean Strepsils (thanks Steph).
The more judgments I read, the more I start to think my cousin Caleb has the right idea with becoming a judge. As far as I can tell from our latest round of Denning wizardry, the process consists solely of coming up with the desired result and then finding some appropriately obscure literary reference to use as evidence that it’s correct. So roughly the same way I go about producing one of my more pretentious blog entries, really…
Regarding the mini-radio competition, which earned a much better response, the winner was Dave who suggested the firm “Ware, Faman, Death (pronounced D-ath) and Pestilante (a new Italian partner…)”, with Shamini coming in second.
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