October 22 (Friday): Crashing Foreign Cars. This morning I wake up with a thud, my alarm once more startles me when it goes off at 7 AM and I awaken alone mentally whinging “it shouldn’t be like this”. I leave the alarm clock to buzz long than usual by way/effort of protest but eventually give in to its haranguing.

Things get worse when I discover that my computer has gone blue screen and postal once more, there really is something horrible going on with my PC right now, ever since I installed AOL broadband. I switch it off and restart and it takes an eternity to reboot and forever to get back online. I get messages of AOL needing to be reinstalled and, early morning, memories of all my lost emails in the personal filing cabinet come flooding back. Eventually I get online to speak to Sara but now I am in the finest mood, work is good and therefore life is good as a result. I must type with a glow, Sara comments that she thinks I sound like I got a shag. Yeah fucking right.

I walk into work and for the first time in weeks I arrive early, early doors no fear. And I proceed to have a really good morning, getting lots of work done in the process.

Today, as per yesterday, the weather is fantastic perfect autumnal, sunny but chilled so I decide to leave at lunchtime and use up the spare half day I have still knocking about (much to the chagrin of everyone around me). This afternoon I intend to get my house in order, tidy up Bohemian Grove, bring my writing up to date all with the view/intention of being well set up to begin studying this weekend.

After watching Working Lunch though, salaryman that I am, Richard immediately hits me on MSN asking “what are you doing at home?”. Jesus, the first real holiday day I am taking off this year (the others having been spent on study and job interviews), immediately I am (almost) being accused of being a skiver (kind of). We talk music and bring up RTX and Hot Snakes, which I promptly begin downloading. RTX is cool stuff. Shock horror it sounds like Royal Trux and as I download it with broadband, tracks download quicker than their actual length so I get to listen to the album without break, uninterrupted. Back of the net.

Eventually I get down to some intensive/extensive fulfilling writing, as I finally get my visit with Eva down on paper. It’s a draining task/experience. And ultimately too graphic for this blog.

Tonight is the final of The Apprentice and boy am I too interested by it. And bonus material, tonight the episode is almost 90 minutes long. The show is well edited to make Bill and Kwame look equally incompetent but Kwame does appear to have a distinct disadvantage in having the useless nutbar that is Omarosa on his team almost purposely sabotaging things like a plant, all despite the Jessica Simpson concert looking the easier task over the golf tournament. Eventually/obviously both events go off without any real hitch or drama and Bill, looking just like Brian from The Sopranos, gets the nod and wins the competition, in a weird bit of editing that sees Trump’s boardroom turn into a television where all the competitors are wheeled back out including Tammy who is now knocked up. Apparently there is going to be a UK version of this show with Alan Sugar. I can’t imagine it being anywhere near as good.

My Friday evening turns out to be a real yawner of a Friday with resorting to watching the Jasper Carrott car crash sitcom All About Me with the Asian teenage Stephen Hawking sneakily doing a voiceover of events and passing judgement on his friends and family. Hasn’t the BBC learned from Little Britain that people in wheelchairs are only funny when they’re saying “want that one”.

The night only improves when I begin playing FIFA 2005 some more before turning in a bit too early for a Friday night.

After a brief bout of sleeping, I awaken to the weird recognition of A Forest by The Cure as Jools Holland shows Robert Smith the oldest footage possible going of The Cure in action which frightens the hell out of me and freaks me out. Really strange considering that A Forest is my favourite Cure song.

I resume sleeping, awaiting nightmares.

np: Royal Trux - Stevie