The PC that I share with Kirsty has suddenly become a war zone. Trojan spyware is evil. People who download it need to be slapped in the face with a wet fish! Oh dear, it was me. Get that mutant turbot away from me. Arghh!
Our woefully inadequate virus protection gizmo turned out to be as much use as a decaf espresso. Yet, the worst thing is not what the spy software can do. It never gets that far. No, the worst thing is the tedious cleaning up after it. My social schedule now seems doomed to revolve around scanning the hard drive.
Never let it be said that I don't give things a fair go (at least not very loudly). A line has to be drawn in the sand though. And what am I talking about? Buying cheap wine from Laithwaites on the basis they provide 'good everyday wines'.
Is it just me, or does the selections of wines that K and I ordered taste like fruity water? I knew something was wrong when I discovered that we were both pouring wine down the sink on a regular basis. It can't be right, can it? Surely the trick is turning water into wine and not the reverse.
My latest mission to order some pigs' trotters from Chadwicks, our fantastic local butcher in Balham, has yet to come to fruition. There is currently a major cash flow problem Chez Me. Don't you just love it when you are randomly not paid your salary for no apparent reason. 'pure joy. Still, there was no guarantee that the trotters would fit me.
That reminds me actually... If you're name was Mr/Mrs/Ms Monue then your house would surely be known as Chez Monue. It also occurred to me yesterday that two pyromaniac cats might get on together like a mouse on fire.
What are you going to use the pig's trotters for?
'still trying to find a simple recipe actually. A slow roast, I guess.
Maybe Fergus Henderson has something to say about them.
There'll be no brawn making in this house though!