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

Went to The Shack in District Six last night, can't remember getting home, have a bit of a hangover. Chatted to a nice personable young fellow. A nice down low dive of a bar, liked it, my kind of place.

Feeling grim this morning though. I must have had a lot to drink last night as my memory is almost completely wiped.

Got all the mental oblivion of a hangover but with none of the pain. It's weird. Feels like half my brain is missing.

Trying to phone the contact person of the local Writers' Group. If someone advertises their phone number for the general public, the least they could do is organise an answerphone.

I've got the mental oblivion of a hangover but with none of the pain. It's weird. I was on Vodka last night at The Shack in District Six.

And the email address advertised doesn't exist. This sort of thing makes me hopping mad. If people can't be bothered to answer their phones or advertise working email addresses, why should punters bother frequenting their group? I'm actually trying to organise a bit of social life and the Fing details don't work and she doesn't answer her phone! It's maddening. I'm sick and tired of the constant, constant battle of the Christian life. It's just unrelenting.

Well I managed to get hold of her and she sounded awfully nice, and what's more, she stays just up the road from me! So I can walk there! That's cool. I'm really looking forward to the challenge of writing to someone else's specification. The last time I did that was for Olga and it was a spectacular success. I think I do things better when people ask me to do them.

Got a lovely message from Jane on my Facebook page. How lovely. That's really cheered me up; I was feeling sad. For some reason I was anxious in the Spar just now when I was buying my supper. Had sweet chilli chicken stew and sticky chicken wings that weren't very sticky and weren't very nice.

I'm very tired indeed so I'm going to have a pint of water and hit the sackeroo.