nothing to hold, nothing to hide
auld lang syne
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Now everyone seems to be on a quest to restore me back to health, although jamex had the right idea when he asked if there wasn’t anything more than feeling the lingering effects of illness.
In a little while, I hope to introduce you to J.N. and his writings. I’ve finally finished blocking out a design for his use and he’ll probably occupy one of my little-used domain names.
And in other news of the weird, apparently I met E.R. at the door in a Sunset Boulevard-style dressing gown and high heels sometime last week. The memory of the whole event escapes me, but he’s Adamant as to its amusement value. This, kids, is why you should never do Robitussin and vodka shots in quick succession.
And speaking of drunken excesses, I went out for drinks with business colleagues and was given my first taste of 12-year-old Macallan single malt yesterday after work. I do realize that it’s a fine year and for a whisky, it’s rather smooth, but I spent the rest of the time blinking wide-eyed at my glass and making small choking noises in the background. However, I did manage to drink it neat