I had a very strange dream last night. In it the computer playout system which I use at work didn't function properly so I decided to go and smoke crack with Daryl Denham. It's worth making it clear that he's not, nor ever will be, a drug taker* and crack is certainly not something either of us will ever tamper with. Also, he's on holiday at the moment.
Right in the middle of the dream I was woken up by the water man who was here to read our meter. He was very swift, in and out. I feel a little socially under nourished by his brevity. I thought workmen were supposed to have a cup of tea and stuff?
Not to worry. My main focus should really be the fact that I've managed to fall off the weight watcher's wagon, in a big way. Over the last fortnight I've put on 8lbs. More than half a stone. What a chubby little f#cker I am. I'm currently sitting down to eat a plate of these words right here. It's not that the atkins diet doesn't work, it's that I simply lack the will power to do it properly.
It's sort of a shame that you can't give advice to your former self from the vantage point of the future. Maybe post a little comment on the blog telling yourself in the past what to do. That'd be quite good. It's possible though that even from the future you might give bad advice. You'd only be talking to them from one possible future. In many ways me putting on more than half a stone is a product of fate. Yes. It's not really my fault at all. Those pies were driven into my mouth by the hand of destiny.
Speaking of life choices, I think this website is f#cking brilliant. I spent ages on it. It's literally an online maze of pictures. the different choices you make determine the journey you take. Genius.
*Unless you count cigarettes and Jack Daniels, right kids?