There - over 10,000 words. I have ten days to get my months target and less than 5000 words to go to hit it. I am fairly certain that I'm going to make it... Yay!

I had a little moment over the last couple of days when I wondered whether or not it was working, but I had a good little writing session today and it seems to be back on track. Well, for the moment anyway. So, I'm happy.

And I've made a loaf of bread. Well, the bread machine is making a loaf of bread for me - who do you think I am desperance? And there is home-made cake. There is actually two sorts of home-made cake - one from my dad and one from my wife. I am in a sort of home-cooked heaven.

In the office here at work, the radio is on. Which is why I usually listen to my MP3 player. However, for some reason I don't have it on today and so the radio is playing in the background. And it's BBC Radio 1. (It could be worse, it could be Metro Radio, the local independent radio station who proudly proclaim that they play lots of different music for everyone. Which, in practice means that they play lots and lots of different shite that no-one actually likes. And they have adverts. I will confidently proclaim that British television advertising is the best in the world (see things like the Orange phone ads, the various Guinness ads and so on - really well done and clever) (Damn an aside within an aside. That is probably going to end up longer than the actual original geeky random comment. Which I am going to have to continue in a bit, because I am going out for lunch with my friend Chaz now. And it's pissing down...)

(Back from lunch now. And it was delicious. I had Smoked haddock chowder with leek and ham. Now, I am now not a soup person as a rule, but that was one of the best things I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Sex on the tongue. And it was followed by an equally gorgeous chocolate cake. And, being the wonderful husband that I am, I have got a slice for Candy which I won't even try and eat unless she offers me some. I may make puppy dog eyes and follow each bit from plate to mouth but I won't ask...) (Oh, and it was all home made. Chaz is an excellent cook. And a good writer as well.)

I think I've closed all the parentheses properly.

Where were we?

Oh yes. The radio. Anyway, an hour and twenty minutes ago, the radio was playing a track - I neither know nor care what it was - and it had a riff in it that sounded exactly (well, probably not exactly, but close enough to it so that it set off some kind of alarm) like the theme tune to Blake's 7.

Sorry. Wasn't really worth it was it?

(Edited to correct the positive soup connotation to a negative one.)