Not a reference to life in a Polly Toynbee dictatorship but another day of frustration with my laptops. Both – having failed yesterday – started working today. But this evening laptop number one just went on strike again and so I resorted to laptop number two. A lovely piece on football was saved. And I was half way through another classic diatraibe against Bono ( and also Polly Toynbee) when it announced that it was going into hibernation. What the hell does that mean? I was utterly unable to stop it hibernating and having shut itself down it refused to play ball again.
As such, with the words fresh in my mind, I have trekked off to an internet cafe. A rather unlovely girl with a shorts which are far too short for her chubby legs is plying me with diet coke as I rewrite my earlier epics. Before I start the book I fear that I must invest in a new laptop. At least, on the plus side, I have had to put on jeans for the trek to the internet cafe and it feels as if my 32 inch waist pair are just that little bit looser. Remember: peak waistline was 44 and 32 is the lowest number since I was 17. Target is 28 inches and my diet of cereals and salads and intense exercise is starting to pay dividends.
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