chilling

A team telecon at work began with an invitation to share any adverse incidents or near misses, Health and Safety-wise. As if we were going to volunteer to give a hilarious account of our pratfalls (and near-pratfalls) for the amusement of the team! Mind you, I did fall over on the way to work the other day, and although nobody saw, I seem to feel the need to tell everybody. Perhaps I think it will humanise me.

It happened on Thursday, during my epic journey to work across the frozen fields from Ingrave, just me and my i-pod. This is when your so-called 'avant-garde' sensibilities can come back to haunt you. It might well be appropriate for my slow death in a snowdrift to be accompanied by a punishing industrial drone, or someone squawking about death - when it comes to it, I'll probably be wishing for Relight My Fire.

Meanwhile, strange events have been happening in the new house - Dave's razor practically throwing itself out of the bathroom cabinet when I open the door - mysterious spots of blood appearing on the living room floor - and a strange milky ectoplasmic substance obscuring one shelf in the fridge. Dave insists that the razor only fell, that the blood came from some or other human being, and that the milky substance was, in fact, milk, which had leaked out of a milk carton. I'm not so sure. To paraphrase Sherlock Holmes: once you have eliminated the impossible, everything else is too boring to bother thinking about.