Such A Little Thing Makes Such A Big Difference

Such a little thing / Such a little thing / But the difference it made was grave / There you go, wielding a bicycle chain / Oh, why won't you change? / Change and be nicer?

Sorry, got sidetracked there. That's a picture of the little device that means we've got internet access in Flat C now. Due to a set of circumstances whereby we managed to move into a residence with no phoneline installed, and then Virgin Media proved to be a Useless Twat Collective, we've had to 'go mobile' with '3'. I promise it had nothing to do with celebrity endorsement of the company from June Sarpong MBE, irritating purveyor of bad television and owner of a voice that sounds like the strangler has got a good grip on her neck but is yet to press ahead with proceedings (I've never quite been able to go through with it). It was just a necessity to finally get online, even if it is proving to be much like the staff in an Argos store (temperamental and not as fast as advertised).

I'm presently exploiting the benefits of mobile internet by sitting in bed. I've fallen thoroughly ill in the past 24 hours with a heavy cold - I would call it flu but people always say you're lying unless it lasts about two weeks. I suppose it's more like a snack-size flu; the type you'd find in a Christmas selection box of, erm, illnesses. Yesterday I bought my first box of Kleenex since 1996 and then had to suffer the ignominy of walking through the city centre and sitting on the bus home with the box in my hand, with a fresh tissue sitting proud from the clever dispensation system on the top of the box, permanently aroused. The looks I got were not so much dirty as heavily soiled. I felt so ill last night that when I tried to start writing a blog about pies I soon lost interest and gave up. So there's something to look forward to when I'm better.

I'm determined to spend the majority of the day in bed. Illness etiquette dictates that "staying in bed is the only way to get rid of it". Or at least that's what the mother figure always told me when I was skiving off school in the hope of starting a new league season on Premier Manager 3. Then again, this is the same mother figure who always tries to get me to put some shorts on because "they'll thicken up your legs", so perhaps I should be less quick to take heed. But regardless, it's nice to lounge and I'm lying here listening to the second Andrew Bird album, Armchair Apocrypha, in preparation for seeing him live next week. The world is on hold. Do not disturb.