Getting there

I’m getting over this nasty infection, but we’re not quite there yet.

Baby steps.

Voice not quite back yet, energy levels some way below where they should be, but at least the rivers of purulent gunge emanating from my sinuses are starting to subside a little. It’s been a day of trying to get back into things, with some bathroom shopping, some dog bathery and – gasp – even a very gentle weights session in the gym.

It felt like I needed to do something.

And later, in a further effort to return to normality, a braai. Nothing fancy. Just us, some meat and some salad. And that means that we can work at our own pace and go for a doze whenever we need to.

Baby steps.

It’s 2022

Robots and computers will soon be ruling the world, but before they take over, we’ve been putting them to good use doing helpful things for us, and making our lives easier.

We can send things into space with absolute accuracy.
We can fabricate tiny devices with incredible precision.

But – apparently – we can’t stop a big boat hitting a big rock when the guy in charge goes to the loo.

You couldn’t make it up. And indeed, I haven’t.

If you did make it up though, you might use lines like:

A report into the incident says the officer in charge felt a sudden “sharp pain in his intestines” at around 2am. He then “had an urgent need to leave the bridge to go to the toilet”, and he did so leaving the ship unattended.

And make it seem like a 1980s sitcom.
But you wouldn’t need to because that’s actually what happened.

And then this as what happened:

Quite how you can crash a big ship into a big rock because you went to the loo rather than steering it…

…I just don’t know. Where were the robots and the computers doing their thing?

It’s 2022 and this sort of thing is still happening.


We’re back to normal summer temperatures, with even a bit of rain tomorrow, back in Blighty. That’s more like the summers of my youth. And so I fear that this warning might be too late for many of my British readers.

But still… stay out of the sun, because, you know, it’s dangerous. Not because it’s the sun, but rather because it’s… er… not the sun:

It is – as you will already have read – not the sun that we knew as children.

(presumably, that’s this one?)

And that would surely strike fear into anyone were they to see its giggling face, 1,392 million kilometres across, looking down upon them. So this new sun (which isn’t actually the sun) must be doubly terrifying.

And that terror is down to it actually being an “LED prism”, “emitting a blue/white light”. And why would it be doing that? Well, to “excerbate [sic] graphene growth”, obviously.

Thankfully, I’m here to drop a few truth bombs so you don’t have to worry to much about that message above. The facts you require are:

1. Prisms don’t emit light.
2. The sun is the sun.
3. Graphene growth is unaffected by light.
4. “Excerbates” isn’t a word, and
5. TETC is clearly a nutter.

In fact the only sane part of the message is that last part:

Please PLEASE understand quickly where the REAL dangers are coming from and avoid those things.

Yes, like these sort of messages from people like TETC.

The drugs don’t work

Watering eyes, chesty cough, general malaise. Still no voice.

I don’t seem to be able to kick this thing. The coughing is the worst and the best bit, though. Worst because it’s damn annoying and sore, best because my abs are getting the greatest workout of their lives. It’s like I’ve done a thousand sit-ups today.

Six pack incoming.

That said, I do need to get better and get going again. So tomorrow – assuming no overnight cure – I’m moving in with massive amounts of acetylcysteine to demucusify my respiratory system. We used to use acetylcysteine in the lab to break down the… er… “nastier” sputum specimens we received, and so I have high hope that I can use it on me to achieve the same effect.

With that, and my body (with its newfound amazing abs), in on the act, I feel that full recovery is mere hours away