Thursday, May 26, 2005

37-3-21-3-3-3-2

India's chicken spots have scabbed over and she's over the pox for all intents. The total number of spots counted on her face and body was 37. She has had just one bad spot -- on her cheek -- which may or may not leave a small scar, apart from that she (and we) got off pretty lightly.

I'm seeing my solicitor later to discuss an offer of three months "gardening leave" that has been put on the table by my company. There's obviously a fine line between gardening leave, redundacy and unfair/constructive dismissal, but on the whole I'm happy with the offer:

I'm going anyway, so why not take the potential to earn "double wages" for a month or two, as long as I can secure another job within the next 13 weeks?

That's the gamble, but I'm confident in my abilities to find a decent position in the job marketplace at the moment.

The offer would also free up some time in which to assault the house with a second wave of decorating.

And finally...

What a night.

James Hussey summed it up in his one word text message after the game:

Unfuckingbelievable.

What a night of football.

Dudek's crazy Grobbo legs were the icing on the cake.