Dreamtime

I had a very strange dream last night/this morning.

I was on holiday in India when I was told to go to the USA because I'd written a controversial, award-winning pome and they wanted me on TV. Despite leaving my passport, I was allowed on a plane - the wrong one, though, so I ended up in the middle east. Thankfully I met some people I knew and talked my way onto another plane, before realising not only did I have my own passport but also the passports of all my family on holiday in India.

When the plane landed in Moscow, it turned out everything was part of an elaborate scheme. I tried to get a warning message out by writing on some laminated paper. But that was incredibly difficult, and so I tried to encode the message by circling letters in that day's newspaper. Then I realised I was not human, and was promptly plugged into a spacecraft's navigational device by my family so they could get home.

Stressful dream!

Hoodies aren't the issue

Hoodies. What's the problem? It's not as if just shoplifters/muggers/loiterers wear them, or they're some kind of gang symbol (the Bloods, the Crips and the Hoodies). I wear a hoodie, and not just for looking threatening. It's almost surgically attached to me; it's comfortable and it's multi-purpose. Going up the scale:
Scruff: thrown on over pjs to attend corner shop for milk.
Casual: with jeans, down the pub (or anywhere, for that matter)
Formal-ish: to the office, in lieu of the ageing cardigan look
Showbiz: worn to attend the after-party of the British Soap Awards.
Yes, I have worn the same hoodie to each of these events very recently, sans eyelid-battery from anyone. The only reason I'm not wearing it now is that it is in the tumble dryer - the label says Do Not Tumble Dry, but I can't cope without it for the length of time it takes to air-dry.
So, media, shut up about hoodies.And buy yourself one. They're useful.

P.S. It's the ones who wear them with baseball caps you need to be worried about.

Current affairs

Thought of the week: Where can I get some of Julian Clary's iridescent highlighter? (Coming in second - about various people - "he's much better looking in real life")

Disappointment of the past week: Not walking away with £50K on live national television.

Highlight of the past week: Meeting Alan Dedicoat (if you don't know who he is, hang your head in shame/bemusement/indifference).

Challenge of the coming week: I've been told I need to get some even "more smoochy photos" of myself and Mr. Current Number One than the one currently in existence (you can see it when it's been photo-shopped to protect the innocent)

Annoying comment of the week: (of the stupendous photo) "Who's that hairy goblin peering over your shoulder?"

Record of the week: Close call between The Birdie Song and The Conga.

Runners-up prizes of the week: We may not have won the cash, but between my team-mate and I we have accumulated: a mountain bike, a Bristol City Shirt, a weekend in Bristol, a visit to Hull, a press photo of Eddie Izzard, unlimited sushi and wine, and the schmoozing opportunity to get a job in broadcasting (mebbe). Not bad. Still wanted the big money, though.

Magic is real

The other day:
Thinks, "hmmm, I really fancy some carb-based crunchy snacks which would be found in a bag, but unfortunately the shop is closed."
Continues tidying.
Opens chest containing shoes.
Finds two bags of crisps.

Miraculous.