Here's where I am: Being Billy-no-mates this weekend, I won't be using Public Transport to attend [ep + lots of apples=not allowed out alone/could get lost] so, IF the weather is good, I will come on my bike BUT the forecast is not looking good.
No-ones said whether I'm going to get an at least 5 minutes Skype conversation with everyone or not. Someone going to take their net book or something so I can virtually attend? Don't fucking mention Facetime.
Roses are bollocks, Violets are crud, I hate bloody flowers, And much prefer mud.
Bah. Fozza will be there. He'll probably be able to Skype you from his watch.
Which wouldn't be as good quality as if I tethered my D300s to my Quad Core i7 and streamed HD video to you ... but it also wont kill my arms/shoulders either.
Depends what his dreams are about. Knowing BP, you'll soon be receiving an HD stream of ColdFusion running on a dedicated server with 16GB of ECC DDR3 RAM.
36GB, you mean? With an OctoCore, SSD RAID, and running Railo 4. :]
Although that wasn't last night.
Fire engines going in two directions, Paul Daniels (wtf?) going with one set, me going another way, traversing a cliff face, something, stuff in the garden, someone with ~14" squares of lumpy hedgerow (like turf, but for hedges), going inside for a new drink, something in the kitchen, white-and-yellow wasps on the beige carpet, upstairs to get rulers then coming down and attacking them, brother's friends watching a film in sitting room as it ends or I wake up. (forgot which)
*shrug*
Although that's missing details and it's gone vague, it was mostly a cohesive experience, which is strange for a dream.
Big sozzes to all: I'm not going to make it. The best part of a week away and an unexpected potential commission means my nose has to be firmly applied to the grindstone this weekend.
You know how pissed off I am.
"We all have flaws, and mine is being wicked." James Thurber, The Thirteen Clocks 1951
