It's been a funny old week. My damned foot has been playing up a lot and prevented me from playing badminton on Thursday, and I was really hoping to take the Puch out for another ride.
Work has been shit. It was implied the other day that I was prioritising the wrong things. I wasn't happy about that at all, since it was beyond my control. And if anyone asks me yet again about the fucking AS/400s...well, I'll probably just say again that I know nothing about them, but in my head I'll be screaming obscenities.
Yesterday evening was brilliant, went out with the gang for a meal in the Brookhouse Mill, which was typically excellent, and had lots of entertanining conversation. Most memorable was me mishearing something that Rob P said which led to a long and convoluted discussion about the role of fluffers in pr0n movies, sounds weird but it was bloody funny and wildly inappropriate for the setting.
Last night my foot felt perfectly fine, or very nearly, and then this morning it was so bad I couldn't put it on the ground. Spent the day not doing much and taking ibuprofen, and again now it feels OK again. I wish I knew what was wrong with it.
Tired now, bed beckons.
I have an idea building in my head about something I could do with the remains of my cousin's old bike after it donated it's wheels to the Puch, but not sure if it would work.
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