h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Reading about Hypatia's day made me realise that my horoscope, the evening one in the free paper on the way home,(what is the point of a horoscope for less than half a day,I ask) for once offered a modicum of sense.

'In comparing our problems to other people's we sometimes come to realise that our lot in life isn't as bad as we first thought...think on it next time you perceive the going has got tough'

I have a stinking cold of the snot factory producing variety. A visit to the dentist has left me feeling that a round or two with Mike Tyson might be more preferable...(half my nose is now so anesthetised I am oblivious to the mucus pouring unchecked onto my chin) and have been training my new, if somewhat ageing assistant, who has incessantly interrupted my concentration thus causing me to send out several emails with entirely the wrong information in them, which will undoubtedly validate the receivers already firm opinion that I am nothing if not suited to my hair colour.

The journey home promises to be miserable. The 6.06 is the worst train in the commuter run, overcrowded, surly and packed with persona one would hope would never appear on your Christmas card list.

To add to the misery I am travelling with my newly appointed ageing and overly enthusiastic assistant who has yet to understand that the bubble we live in, far from being wonderfully exciting and cutting edge, is actually mundane, tedious and no different to working in the tax office.

We discuss office politics (trust me no different in the charity sector), forthcoming events, interviews that have been pencilled in, and how to engage money, influence and the right 'A' list for future advantage to the cause...our day job.

The sweetest, if somewhat more elderly than I (if that is possible) lady is sitting next to us with an overnight bag that threatens to make the journey unbearable. We move the offending bag to the luggage rack and promise to help her get it down at her destination.

The dribble from my nose is unabated.

Continuing to chatter inanely, he rather than I, (Remembering I am four years in to this bubble} we drift from one titled being to another and one impressive venue after another. He delighted with the opportunity, me thinking 'it will never become a lifestyle I would willingly embrace, give me Africa and a cause!'

The delightful lady disembarks at the station before ours with the passing shot.
'You really do lead the most exciting life my dear'

Horses for courses I say - but it's not a bad lot in the scheme of things.

Oh I am glad you're back
You could pop that straight into an A-number and offer it to The Post, you know. Wider audience

Think I'm a bit rusty. need some practice or Pin will say I'm just repetitive and hiding behind my comfortable anorak!
Came back to try and find a new voice and something worthwile to say.
May submit a bit of vapid for fun later.
Hope you are good
Take care
Boots

I wouldn't say that.
I wouldn't ever describe your anorak as comfortable.

GB's right, atch. Your rusty, boots, is other peoples' gleaming, oiled and ready to run.

<> - it's the laughs we appreciate

and the typos!