Wow. Have I earned my pennies over the last few weeks or what? If I'm dead lucky, I'll get a Xmas Mars Bar bonus which would be a shit because I hate the damned foul things. It will end up rotting in a cupboard until next Halloween when some brat appears, whence I shall shout \"treat\" and whisper under my breath \"sic\".

Okay, I have had the benefit of working from home thereby reclaiming at least three hours a day, but they have been spent working. And weekends! Okay -- I will fess up and say that not a great deal got done on Saturday but I more than compensated yesterday. Deadlines are deadlines. If it is within my power to meet them, then that is what will happen. I am minded of the Douglas Adams quote about flying: \"throw yourself at the ground and try to miss\". When I first read that many years ago, I didn't even laugh. I just looked at the logic and couldn't fault it at all (Waaarty -- don't get all second order logic on my ass -- I am way too tired for that). The work I have been doing has been laborious and I have had to put several colleagues through the hell that I was going through in order to get things done on time (apologies Grom).

Anyway, as if life was not hard enough, I have had to get the car MOT'd. Naturally it failed. I got a call saying they were pricing up some parts for the peri-rotary secondary arbeit-capsule or some such nonsense. What the hell do you do? I have no idea what the part they mentioned to me does. For all I know, it's a feckin' brake pad. Anyway, it's a few hundred quid and I know I have to pay it or I will be driving illegally. Honestly, I felt like my mother in such circumstances. \"Well if you say I need it, I guess I should agree to your proposal of re-calibrating the side-flanges on the rear passenger door\" even though it is not a four door car. Where do you even begin to argue about whether your Wankel-sprocket needs reaming? I hate mechanics in the academic and profession sense. There's an old saying midst my profession -- \"computers are just like animals; they can smell fear\". Tru'dat. Same for halfwits like me who couldn't spot a piston ring from a gas tank in a month of Sundays.

There was a time when I kind of understood cars, but since they all became fuel injected, I have no chance. Does a fuel injected engine even have points? In fact I remember one occasion while at Uni that I fixed a lass's car for her. She let me listen to it as it tried to start. \"Aha\", said I sagaciously, \"that will be your thrust bearings.\" She looked all enamored so I went about fettling things -- turns out it was a blockage in the fuel pipe. I only mentioned thrust bearings because it was a phrase I had heard Pater talk about. It's usually not thrust bearings when you hear that squeal; it's usually the fan belt. Anyway, it got me to fourth base for a weekend so as far as I was concerned it was a job well done. The car broke down again on the Tuesday. She ran off and married some guy from her year and is now happily living somewhere in the Pennines. I guess I didn't have my \"fell off a Xmas tree\" hat on that day. Had I been wearing it, things could have been a lot less messy and depressing because she was, quite frankly, ace.

Anyhooo. I have been royally stung by the garage. With Xmas looming large. This time last year, I was done. This year I have not even started and the bills are piling up like Geordie vomit on a Saturday night.

Don't worry kids. I am not allowed sharp instruments.

Time for your meds and some relaxation Kenny.

He's just working. But he is listening to this...
It is now 23:30 and I have not even looked at my crossword. That is how mad things are.

I spend hours on conference calls followed by hours of thought and then hours of emails. I read them, and then re-read them to make sure I have set expectations correctly.

You may have a very quiet Kenny on your hands until Christmas. And even then, I might just do one for a couple of weeks. God, I hope so.

I should go to bed, but I feel the need to wind down. Maybe last night's Bones? Yup -- that is the solution. I will have to ignore the crossword for today, GDit.

I should appraise you all of the fact that bloggage is likely to be light for the foreseeable future.

Work is literally nuts at the moment. I will not be partaking of a weekend this week other than maybe a couple of hours on Saturday evening. I have things that must be done by Monday that will consume my every waking moment.

I've given up for today (other than email and IM) on the basis that I am fried. I intend to sit back and watch some TV now. I believe I have recorded shows during the week and Friday nights are not bad anyway so no doubt should you call or IM after about 20:00 I will be asleep in front of them.

I intend getting in a good 12 hours sleep tonight and then crashing on with what needs to be done. Spreadsheet hell. I never used to mind putting in that amount of time for the start-ups that I have worked for, but working for megacorp, I get kind of antsy. Not belligerent -- don't get me wrong -- just fatigued that all of it may end up being worthless effort. Anyway, I'm not paid to speculate so I'll just do what apparently needs to be done.

I hope you all have a great weekend and that the word Excel does not even cross your mind. If it does do a regex on it: s/Excel/Tequila/g

I have never done this before but I feel it merited. A friend of a friend has gone missing.

Can you all take a look at this and see if you can help at all. There are a lot of people very worried about her.

From FB:

She has been missing since Tuesday. We know she caught a train from Moreton in the Marsh to Reading where she withdrew 50 pounds. Then she may have caught a train to a number of places: Didcot, Oxford, Worle in Western-Super-Mare or maybe Cardiff. The police are still trying to look over CCTV footage at Reading train station to see where she might have gone. There's been no real news in days and our concern for her safety grows everyday. Please please post the link on your wall, take a good look at her photo (bearing in mind her hair is now shoulder length) and ask your friends to do the same. Someone could see her. She is not well and needs to be found as soon as possible.

Ok I've been asked for dates. So she has been missing since last Tuesday, that was November the 9th. She was last heard of at 2.30pm and last seen at Reading station on CCTV at around 4.30pm ish. We don't know where she went yet tho. It appears she got on a train going in the Didcot/Oxford direction but we don't know where she got off that train or where/if she changed trains. As you can see we are very far behind her movements.

Everyone take a good look at her pictures or better still print them out and carry them with you. She could be anywhere and you may see her. If you did you should follow her and ring the police.

One more thing, in the CCTV footage I have seen, the girl we believe is Mim is wearing a hat, a beanie. The quality of the footage is too poor to tell what color it is but be aware she is probably wearing a hat as well..

As if we don't have enough to worry about. Sounds like this gal needs help urgently. She has friends in the US and Canada but I guess immigration would have picked that up.

Again, not the kind of thing I normally do on here but my friend is worried sick as you would be if this were your friend.

Call it an amber alert.

Sad update here

I'm sorry I have been so quiet but things are a bit mad at the moment. I have too many things to do and not enough time to do them. That, when combined with some major league work, a love of certain TV shows, the meds, trips to my brilliant GP and my legendary narcolepsy mean I have very little computer time.

When you live on your own, every job seems to triple in size because you know you have more to follow. And then when you add in the tedious nonsense of having your car MOT'd and all that jazz, you suddenly find yourself either running like a mad thing or falling asleep on your sofa at about 21:00 while trying to watch one of your favorite shows. I guess the meds don't help with the narcolepsy too. I generally crash on the sofa, wake up at 2ish and head upstairs. Averaging 10+ hours a night is not natural.

For the first time, I feel like I am pushing myself too hard. I don't mind doing that when I have someone to lean on, but flying solo heaps it on you like nothing on earth. I'm just drained of energy.

To finish, just in case Nico reads this, Happy birthday little guy. I miss you fella.

I've just heard that a friend of mine lost her grandmother this morning. I happen to think the world of this friend and have just called her. She's usually animated and full of devilment. Tonight her voice was flat. It's the first time I've ever heard her like that and it broke my heart.

L, I'm only up the road if you need anything and I mean *anything*. If you need lifts or whatever, I am at your service.

So sorry my dear. If there's anything I can do, you know the number.

Prepare yourself for a major moan. Today has been hell from start to finish. I think I just want warm milk and my bed.

This morning I arose to find the car frozen solid. I had no-deicer so switched the car on and hit the fans and heaters and all that jazz. In the course of this process I noticed I had once again run out of blue squirty. I had some in the boot so thought while all the deicing process was going on, I would top the squirty up only to find that the hood-release I thought I had fixed is not fixed and it's a two man job to get it open still. So I was technically breaking the law driving to work.

Finally I set off and joined the M6 at junction 24. It usually takes me 10 minutes to get to junction 21A. This morning? 90 minutes. After other spats along the way, I finally arrived at work 3 hours after I had set out.

At work, I was briefed about a big piece of work that I will be leading the design of. After two hours of that, my brain went into mush. I left early because I was starting to tire and knew that my driving any distance at the moment takes it out of me. 2 hours later I arrived home, having called off for some de-icer, petrol and WD40 to fix this bloody hood catch. I am not doing it tonight because I'm cold to the bone. To paraphrase the immortal words of The Barenaked Ladies, "Tonight was the night I (nearly) fell asleep at the wheel". Scary shit. At one point I thought a HGVs rear lights were traffic lights -- I was that out of it.

Thankfully I only have a half day tomorrow due to another visit to the delightful Dr J although will be putting some hours in during the course of the day since I have a ridiculous deadline to meet concerning brain-mush mentioned earlier. And Wednesday will be my working from home day. I have another doc's appointment on Thursday morning so I may negotiate a WFH then too. Friday I will be in the office and probably dead.

If someone doesn't turn the heat up here, I'm going to return to my original blog name Tales from the Tundra. You have no idea how hard/annoying/uncomfortable I have felt all day. I have decided that once I am Supremo of the UK, everyone will have a heating allowance, not just pensioners, and bugger the carbon footprint. If I thought it would help, I would be burning plastic bags and hippies (renewable energy resource) to get the temperature up a few degrees.

Oh and a final thing: quit with the freezing fog please. Nothing narks me more than not being able to see and not beeing able to get rid of the damned stuff from my windshield.

I bet the Minnesota crew are going to tell me that it's lovely there at the moment and that the Ozzies and CA mob think it's way too warm for this time of year in which case I have voodoo dolls of you all and enough pins to stretch around the world.

Bah and frickin' humbug. I hate Autumn and I hate Winter. Come to think of it Spring is pretty pants too. That makes me happy, in UK terms, for about three weeks a year.

Yours, Scrooge of Wigan.

Ingredients:

1 table
1 chair
1 posidrive screwdriver
1 duff light bulb
1 hot and fearless goth chick from the Tudor

Method:

1) Place chair on top of table thus:

I have three things on my mind at the moment:

-- why am I completely smitten with Allison Mack (Chloe) from Smallville?

-- why do I find myself reading work documents late into the evening?

-- why am I am so stressed about something that isn't even scoped yet?

The answers are obvious so don't bother telling me I need to get a life.

Thank you.

when you're the driver of a train and you crash into Trumpton smashed out of your brain.

For those of you who don't know Half Man, Half Biscuit, that will mean nothing at all. To those that do, you will appreciate its relevance.

I've just got back from seeing the delectable Dr J. For some reason I always feel like a schoolboy when I sit in her surgery. At the moment it's once a week as she weighs me up. I'm not sure whether I feel awkward because it feels like I'm in the headmaster's office for some kind of cricket ball offence or whether I just get my usual "oooh, pretty girl" nerves. I'm sure she would not thank me for either of those two comments.

Anyhoooo, I have come away with another bag of sweeties. Uppers, downers, lefters, righters, thiamin, B-complex. That stuff costs! Not as much as it would in the US, but still, it adds up. No matter, I don't give a fish's tit about the money as long as I get my meds.

I think I am now on a dose of mirtazipine that would cripple a racehorse. I don't think it legal to prescribe any stronger dosage. That is how messed up my head is at the moment. I go for months being absolutely fine and then Nski crops up and my mental health just plummets and I end up back at the doc's for stronger and stronger SSRIs just to get me through the day. There's a reason I haven't written an amusing post in a while -- now you know it. (Okay, some of you may argue that I have never written an amusing post, but I can think of one that made me laugh my ass off -- the one where I reviewed Bin Laden's new tape -- gold dust I tell you.)

Anyways, back to trivial non-medical matters. I have recently rediscovered my love of fish finger sandwiches. When Lauren was around the other night, she cooked some up. My God, manna from Heaven.

Oh, just to backtrack for a sec, someone (I forget who) suggested I take up yoga or pilates. That had me in hysterics. I have neuropathy in my feet and I have broken both capellas in my life. Doing that stuff is like asking me to do a marathon armed only with a Snickers bar and a zimmer frame. I'd be clinically dead within the first 200 yards. Just the lack of cigarettes would kill me.

The Waaart may think he can emulate my old mate Homer Simpson but I can do an excellent Monty Burns (hopefully without the gay sidekick). In fact between me, the Waaart and Mrs A, we have the whole kaboodle. I'm sure we could turn Mr and Mrs Albert's kids into dysfunctional children too. I see a plot evolving and screw you Fox.

I see my 30mg of mirtazipine is kicking in because I cannot even follow my own logic. Thankfully it's out of working hours.

I'll probably try to stay off the blog for a few days until I get used to this wooziness because all you will get is streams of consciousness (or more realistically streams of unconsciousness).

Hmmm. Fish fingers.

Now, where was I?

I have a boat load of things I want to get off my chest but cannot for ethical reasons.

I managed (probably unwisely) to drive down to pick up my script earlier. I think there was a Bowie song that went along the lines of there is a happy place where only children play. This is what these pills feel like. I have moments of lucidity and hours of being bombed. For those of you that can be bothered, I have a combo of mirtazapine (tetracyclic), amitriptyline (tricyclic), acamprosate (bugger knows) and clordiiazepoxide (again an ?). They beat you senseless but when you're up, you're on top form. When you're down, you feel like you have been beaten to death by Arnie. The pain is agonizing.

As per Mrs Albert's advice, I have taken to taking fish oil for the omega 3 factor. I've also added thiamin and B complex to the mix. That right there, is a completely balanced diet. :)

Seriously though, I'm not as bad as I made that sound. I'm working from home at the moment because I never know when I am going to crash (and I mean that mentally not physically). I could do 90% of my job from home. I just miss the banter with the guys at work.

My PM made me smile yesterday. She texted me on a Sunday to ask how I was. I replied something to the extent that that was very thoughtful and thanked her. Under normal circumstances, PMs just need you to do your bit and be right. In this it was purely out of the goodness of her heart. The budget for her Xmas present just doubled. Mrs A has given me a pointer on the Xmas pressie and while I am grateful, I'm going to get creative on this one. This PM is one hell of a lass. She's bailed me out over a couple of faux pas and is more interested in my health than most of my family are, so she deserves the gold medal.

I'm due back at the docs tomorrow afternoon. We'll see what she thinks about my ability to drive.

I've managed the crossword three days on the trot so my brain is not toast, yet. Apparently thiamin restores your nerve endings and it appears to be doing the trick. I haven't woken with muscle cramp in weeks. I'd give you the name of my GP but for the fact that you all might register with her. My take on GPs has always been that they are just trained monkeys, just like us computer geeks are. Not true at all in her case. I don't even need to say anything and she can tell what's wrong; a special skill. She's seen me nude (how awful is that?), watched me cry and consistently does the right thing. I reckon she's about a year or two younger than me. Were she not married, I'd be in like Flynn. There is nothing more comforting than her telling me I'm not dead. Her concern is real and you can see it as she watches you. She'll tell me when my gait is bad and she'll also tell me when my head is screwed on in the right direction. There are not many GPs in the UK who do that so well.

Anyway, I'm off to cook. If I go in to see her tomorrow and look like shite, she'll murder me on the spot. I think I know what I need but I am too cowardly to ask her. I recall her having a cold when I saw her and was remarkably unwitty by stating \"physician, heal thyself\". Self-diagnosis is a stupid thing.

Maybe you'll get some humour out of me tomorrow. Who knows? Any more happy pills and I'll be flying.