Update!

A somewhat so-so week. Had a lurgy that made my throat sore, my bowels runny and my muscles achey. Spent a day and a half in bed sleeping it off with Her Catness as nursemaid. Still not 100%, but I'm sure I will survive. On Friday I got a £60 ticket for displaying an out-of-date tax disc on my car. Yes, I'd paid for and received through the post a new tax disc, but hadn't yet gotten around to taking it down to the car. Stupidity and laziness is no excuse! Last week, I dented the car and shattered the side-panel indicator when exiting a cinema carpark (after a crappy film), forgetting entirely about the pillar next to me. This will cost cash to fix, but more importantly time and inconvenience.

Then on Thurs the Big Wan lost my cashcard for me in the 10 mins between taking it from my purse and leaving for the hole-in-the-wall. Between us we spent 5 man-hours turning the flat over to find it, without success, so it's now been reported missing in action.

When I lose something, I try to recapture my actions, thoughts and movements around the time of the loss, but this doesn't work for the Big Wan. He put the card on the coffee table, then it's all blank. Possibly our neighbour with the spare key to the flat snuck in, bludgeoned BW over the head and made off with the card, or aliens abducted both him and the card. Sometime over the next few weeks, the now-cancelled card will surely show up in some obscure hiding place in the flat, and I will learn something of the mysteries of the Big Wan's thought processes. I've told him not to tell me if he finds it- it will only re-open the wounds- and just to cut it up and bin it. However, it's likely to be H-etc., my own hut manager, who will come across it first.

Lastly, I had an episode of Pie Rage last night uptown, after working my way through Fringe crowds to claim tickets without the card they were booked with. I'd visited the bookshop to pick up 'Catcher in the Rye' and 'The Epic of Gilgamesh' for the aforementioned Big Wan's studies and stopped by the pie shop for a couple of pasties for my tea. I may have been ever so slightly irritated by crowds, tourists and hassle already. There was a long and disorganised queue in the pie shop. A group of three young luvvies came in after me and proceeded to intrude on my personal space and sensibilities by standing too close and shouting in my earhole to each other about this show and that show, and how little time they had till the next performance. When it was my turn to be served, the lassie placed her order in a loud braying voice. I said, "Excuse me, I'm next" but she carried on, ignoring me. I screamed, "EXCUSE ME, I ASSURE YOU THAT I AM NEXT!" and both she and the worker fell silent and acquiesced. I think they could sense that I was a woman who would not be trifled with.