To my my dear small (but pink and warm) audience...
Just a quick note to let you all know that I have now been freed from the shackles of work and am on my Christmas break.
As I'm not sure if I'll be able to blog for a while, I'd just like to take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy Christmas (or non-Christmas or midwinter festival of your choice).
And for those of you who have been waiting with abated breath....
I've decided that the winning name in the "Name that Dalek!" competition will be.....
....drum roll.....
....swiss roll....
...soup and a roll....
...(sorry, got carried away with the rolls there)...
Bunny!
Congratulations to all who applied. The decision was a hard one, but I felt that the winner should be my long-suffering partner Tallulah.
Not because she's my partner, you understand, but mainly because she didn't pick an alliterative name (Denzil the Dalek??? - shame on you!) or one based on the weather.
The award ceremony for the presentation of my dignity to the winner will now take place this evening. Black tie, of course.
(...and remember, dignity is like virginity.... It's a big deal until you lose it, then you don't really know it's gone).
Goodbyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Friday 22 December 2006
Tuesday 19 December 2006
The Frost Report
December bites, dear reader, with all the viciousness it can muster.
Today is the first day that it's felt like winter in Northwest Britain. Travelling to work this morning I was unable to see a thing out of the train windows. It was what I believe Londoners call a 'real pea-souper' - although to be honest the colour was more of a dirty washing up water (less lyrical, perhaps, but more exact).
Travelling home was even worse, with cold so intense that when I got home I had to perform what leprosy sufferers refer to as a VSE (Visual Surveillance of Extremities) to check that I hadn't lost any frostbitten fingers and toes on the train.
Presumably the powers that be would have had to close off the rail network if I had - a bunch of frozen digits would certainly count as a 'suspicious package' in anyone's book.
In any case, Tallulah has finished work until the new year (I'm not far behind) and the Christmas and New Year break beckon towards both Tallulah and the Geek...
...hang on, 'Tallulah and the Geek' sounds like a great title for a sitcom doesn't it?....
"Hell raising actress Tallulah Bankhead thought that she'd seen everything until she shared a flat with Internet guru Bill Gates...she's acts like a TART... while he plays with his SCART... with hilarious consequences!!!"
Now I've put this high-concept pitch on the Internet I fully expect to see it on the ITV schedules in the New Year along with 'Date my Pet!' and 'Pro-Celebrity Glue Sniffing (with Ant and Dec)'.
And now, a plea for understanding:
I have learned, through various channels, that some commentators have misinterpreted my 'plea for twee' and my musings on the true meaning of Christmas (which I think we've all established now is eating and not being at work) as something more than it was.
In fact, some people have ventured the theory that Spanglepuss and myself are having an online argument.
Nothing could be further from the truth. To these people I would say that I hope that Spanglepuss and myself are, by now, comfortable with each other's sense of humour. We both spend so much of our lives with our tongue rammed firmly in our cheek that either of us is capable of a rather passable impression of the elephant man.
As we are both such fans of the world-weary cynical approach to life it was inevitable that Spanglepuss would react with shock and awe at any moment of 'twee' optimism on my part - just as I would react with shock and awe if I ever saw her advertising 'Sunny Delight'.
(I'm assuming the 'Um Bongo' campaign was a one-off and she needed the money)
In short, I've known Spanglepuss for years, she's bloody brilliant and I'd often had the pleasure of admiring her spangles....although I've never admired her pussy.
(I mean SHE DOESN'T OWN A CAT...what did you think I meant?)
I'm going to get in trouble for that last line in so many different ways....
Today is the first day that it's felt like winter in Northwest Britain. Travelling to work this morning I was unable to see a thing out of the train windows. It was what I believe Londoners call a 'real pea-souper' - although to be honest the colour was more of a dirty washing up water (less lyrical, perhaps, but more exact).
Travelling home was even worse, with cold so intense that when I got home I had to perform what leprosy sufferers refer to as a VSE (Visual Surveillance of Extremities) to check that I hadn't lost any frostbitten fingers and toes on the train.
Presumably the powers that be would have had to close off the rail network if I had - a bunch of frozen digits would certainly count as a 'suspicious package' in anyone's book.
In any case, Tallulah has finished work until the new year (I'm not far behind) and the Christmas and New Year break beckon towards both Tallulah and the Geek...
...hang on, 'Tallulah and the Geek' sounds like a great title for a sitcom doesn't it?....
"Hell raising actress Tallulah Bankhead thought that she'd seen everything until she shared a flat with Internet guru Bill Gates...she's acts like a TART... while he plays with his SCART... with hilarious consequences!!!"
Now I've put this high-concept pitch on the Internet I fully expect to see it on the ITV schedules in the New Year along with 'Date my Pet!' and 'Pro-Celebrity Glue Sniffing (with Ant and Dec)'.
And now, a plea for understanding:
I have learned, through various channels, that some commentators have misinterpreted my 'plea for twee' and my musings on the true meaning of Christmas (which I think we've all established now is eating and not being at work) as something more than it was.
In fact, some people have ventured the theory that Spanglepuss and myself are having an online argument.
Nothing could be further from the truth. To these people I would say that I hope that Spanglepuss and myself are, by now, comfortable with each other's sense of humour. We both spend so much of our lives with our tongue rammed firmly in our cheek that either of us is capable of a rather passable impression of the elephant man.
As we are both such fans of the world-weary cynical approach to life it was inevitable that Spanglepuss would react with shock and awe at any moment of 'twee' optimism on my part - just as I would react with shock and awe if I ever saw her advertising 'Sunny Delight'.
(I'm assuming the 'Um Bongo' campaign was a one-off and she needed the money)
In short, I've known Spanglepuss for years, she's bloody brilliant and I'd often had the pleasure of admiring her spangles....although I've never admired her pussy.
(I mean SHE DOESN'T OWN A CAT...what did you think I meant?)
I'm going to get in trouble for that last line in so many different ways....
Sunday 17 December 2006
Christmas is coming and the informed rants are getting fat...
I have to admit that I'm a little taken aback - I've now received my first blog abuse!
Certain commentators of the spangly feline variety took exception to the excessively christmassy nature of my last post. Words like 'twee' were employed in an uncomplimentary manner and some seem to feel that it did not carry the usual geekish cynicism which we've all come to know.
Reading it back again I admit that I probably went overboard with the picture of the tree (just showing off with my birthday camera). I'll admit that it was somewhat twee...
...BUT...
...the pure truth of the matter is that my life does occasionally wander into twee-ville.
Occasionally I wonder whether I should take steps to remedy what appears (to some) to be these intermittent acts of non-cynical twee-ness in my life, but then I note that the alternative prospect - of spending ones life trying to be "cool", "arch", "alternative" and "right-on" ALL THE TIME - doesn't seem to do it's adherents much good.
Been there, done that, wore the disdainful t-shirt, ate the ecological fair-trade burger and tried to choreograph the guardian-reading musical.
I'm 33 and I own Dalek bubble bath for (insert cosmic being of your choice)'s sake - being twee is the least of my worries!
On the subject of my regard for Christmas - I really don't attach much importance to the Judaeo-Christian Mythology of the event. It's a midwinter festival (rather like lunch is simply a mid-day meal) and it rather neatly breaks up the monotony of December in the same way that nipples break up the monotony of a man's chest...
(that last observation courtesy of spanglepuss herself)
In fact I'd go so far as to say that Xmas is the least religious festival that I can think of.
As a child I was extremely greedy and it was about Xmas presents (receiving of), television and food (in that order).
As a teenager I discovered food and the social pressures that forced me to start buying presents for people who weren't related to me - so it became about Xmas food, television and presents (receiving and [reluctantly] giving of).
As an adult I found that Christmas television sucked and so it became about Xmas food, presents (giving and receiving of) and television.
(This was also the point that I probably became aware that "family and togetherness" was supposed to be involved - I think I got this area covered by taking my laundry home with me).
Nowadays I spend a few days with either my (reduced) family or with Tallulah's wonderful relatives and I enjoy the true meaning of Christmas - NOT BEING AT WORK.
So, apologies to anyone out there who, like spanglepuss, coughed up a hairball over the previous post. I sympathise with Christmas-phobes - my father suffered the onset of his final illness on Christmas Eve - and sometimes I feel like I'd like to give it a miss.
But another (possibly less cool but probably more self aware) part of me feels that isolating myself disdainfully from the whole experience might be tantamount to cutting my festive nose off to spite my face.
Certain commentators of the spangly feline variety took exception to the excessively christmassy nature of my last post. Words like 'twee' were employed in an uncomplimentary manner and some seem to feel that it did not carry the usual geekish cynicism which we've all come to know.
Reading it back again I admit that I probably went overboard with the picture of the tree (just showing off with my birthday camera). I'll admit that it was somewhat twee...
...BUT...
...the pure truth of the matter is that my life does occasionally wander into twee-ville.
Occasionally I wonder whether I should take steps to remedy what appears (to some) to be these intermittent acts of non-cynical twee-ness in my life, but then I note that the alternative prospect - of spending ones life trying to be "cool", "arch", "alternative" and "right-on" ALL THE TIME - doesn't seem to do it's adherents much good.
Been there, done that, wore the disdainful t-shirt, ate the ecological fair-trade burger and tried to choreograph the guardian-reading musical.
I'm 33 and I own Dalek bubble bath for (insert cosmic being of your choice)'s sake - being twee is the least of my worries!
On the subject of my regard for Christmas - I really don't attach much importance to the Judaeo-Christian Mythology of the event. It's a midwinter festival (rather like lunch is simply a mid-day meal) and it rather neatly breaks up the monotony of December in the same way that nipples break up the monotony of a man's chest...
(that last observation courtesy of spanglepuss herself)
In fact I'd go so far as to say that Xmas is the least religious festival that I can think of.
As a child I was extremely greedy and it was about Xmas presents (receiving of), television and food (in that order).
As a teenager I discovered food and the social pressures that forced me to start buying presents for people who weren't related to me - so it became about Xmas food, television and presents (receiving and [reluctantly] giving of).
As an adult I found that Christmas television sucked and so it became about Xmas food, presents (giving and receiving of) and television.
(This was also the point that I probably became aware that "family and togetherness" was supposed to be involved - I think I got this area covered by taking my laundry home with me).
Nowadays I spend a few days with either my (reduced) family or with Tallulah's wonderful relatives and I enjoy the true meaning of Christmas - NOT BEING AT WORK.
So, apologies to anyone out there who, like spanglepuss, coughed up a hairball over the previous post. I sympathise with Christmas-phobes - my father suffered the onset of his final illness on Christmas Eve - and sometimes I feel like I'd like to give it a miss.
But another (possibly less cool but probably more self aware) part of me feels that isolating myself disdainfully from the whole experience might be tantamount to cutting my festive nose off to spite my face.
Monday 11 December 2006
It's christmas time (and there's no time to be afraid)
Having scored something of a minor hit with my last post (three comments - woo-hoo) I thought that I'd stick a picture in this one too - this is the Xmas tree recently installed by Tallulah and myself.
This weekend is the first point this year at which I felt Christmas-sy. Tallulah and myself had a lie-in, went out and bought an Xmas tree, decorated it together and then wrote our Xmas cards as we drank mulled wine. Then we watched the studio Ghibli masterpiece "My neighbour Totoro" - or at least I watched it, Tallulah got bored and went and did something else...
(...it's a good film but somewhat overrated and, to be frank, takes far too long to get going. A bit more Totoro would be nice - as would the opportunity to watch it in the original Japanese without the, rather cloying, American dub).
Unlike many people that I've spoken to recently, the excessive Christmas-ness that abounds has not annoyed me...yet. Despite being a complete cynic in almost very other respect I do still have a strong regard for Christmas, although his may be because it's a festival that revolves around food.
(I'm told that there is some kind of religious angle too, but I've yet to see any evidence).
I've thankfully managed to miss the worst excesses of Christmas shopping (so far). The one advantage of living so near the Trafford centre is that it's _always_ packed - a seething mass of human Brownian motion that defies the seasons. I'll admit that it's MORE packed nearer Xmas but the place is so vast that it can absorb a lot of the bustle without become too oppressive.
The one time that I saw the Trafford Centre REALLY busy was when Billie Piper was doing a book signing. Made my little geek heart proud, although not proud enough to buy her autobiography and queue for two hours.
Thursday 7 December 2006
i love the smell of an extermination in the morning
Just thought that I'd share a picture of the latest acquisition to the Geek/Tallulah household with you all.The fact that I find this object very fabulous neatly proves (I feel) that - as far as geekiness goes - I do exactly what it says on the tin.
Meet my latest acquisition, which is actually a container of shower/bath gel.
I saw it in the supermarket and grabbed it before jumping up and down and shouting "We must get this! We must get this!". This neatly gave Tallulah both a new plateau in her Dalekphobia and a snapshot of what life will be like when we have children.
Now my only dilemma is what to call it - I know Daleks don't usually go in for names but I feel that giving it a sense of identity will centre it as a person/being/toiletries container.
I thought this would be a neat question to throw open to all those watching in the big ol'wide blogosphere - suggest a name by posting a comment (using the comment button below) where you can see other peoples suggestions (if any). If you're still too shy to post and have my detail then sending an email, phoning, writing or texting is still sufficient.
The winner will receive my sense of dignity - only one owner, never used.
Tuesday 5 December 2006
umbrella etiquette for the gentleman
For those of you who may have been worried (and even for those who were not) - I wrestled the Dodo into captivity in the end.
December showers are on us again and I thought that I'd share some very important information for those among us who are struggling with the difficult social situations that wet weather can bring.
I'm talking about umbrella etiquette.
We've all been there - the social awkwardness of walking past another human being on a rainy day when you are both carrying opened umbrellas...
"Will I raise my umbrella slightly to let this person pass?" you think to yourself "or will I lower it slightly so that that their umbrella can pass more easily?"
Before you have time to reach the correct decision you've become ensnared in the rain-deflecting device of someone to whom you haven't even been introduced - thus causing much embarrassment to yourself and your family. One person I know had to change his name and move to Sri Lankha as a result of getting his umbrella caught in the hat of a young unmarried woman from Aldershot.
The basic rules of umbrella etiquette are as follows.
1. There are basically two types of umbrella - the cheap small type that can be bought in Woolworths, can be collapsed to fit neatly into a handbag and will last about a month (this type is hereafter referred to as the compact) or the large golf-type umbrellas that can merely be furled into long vicious weapons (hereafter referred to as the avenger).
2. A tall gentleman carrying a compact or avenger must raise it when approaching another gentleman unless the other gent is the same height or greater in which case the avenger takes precedence over the compact.
3. A small gentleman carrying a compact should tilt it to pass a man of similar or lesser height. A small gentleman carrying an avenger obviously feels he's got something to prove and should be avoided at all costs.
4. When approaching an umbrella-bearing woman the gentleman should always both raise and tilt his umbrella as a mark of respect. Be careful not to impale passers by while doing this - it is considered very bad manners to do do.
5. In ascertaining whether to raise, lower or tilt ones umbrella when passing another umbrella user it is often necessary to stop in order to assess how the passer by will position their umbrella. This can often lead to two people standing in front of one another for hours, raising and lowering their umbrellas while deciding how to proceed. It is considered bad form to laugh and point at these people.
6. If travelling in London remember that the inhabitants are a crass and indolent lot and so all bets are off. Many of the inhabitants of London are adept in the ancient art of Upokemi-i umbrella combat and caution should be adopted.
Hope that these notes are useful. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
December showers are on us again and I thought that I'd share some very important information for those among us who are struggling with the difficult social situations that wet weather can bring.
I'm talking about umbrella etiquette.
We've all been there - the social awkwardness of walking past another human being on a rainy day when you are both carrying opened umbrellas...
"Will I raise my umbrella slightly to let this person pass?" you think to yourself "or will I lower it slightly so that that their umbrella can pass more easily?"
Before you have time to reach the correct decision you've become ensnared in the rain-deflecting device of someone to whom you haven't even been introduced - thus causing much embarrassment to yourself and your family. One person I know had to change his name and move to Sri Lankha as a result of getting his umbrella caught in the hat of a young unmarried woman from Aldershot.
The basic rules of umbrella etiquette are as follows.
1. There are basically two types of umbrella - the cheap small type that can be bought in Woolworths, can be collapsed to fit neatly into a handbag and will last about a month (this type is hereafter referred to as the compact) or the large golf-type umbrellas that can merely be furled into long vicious weapons (hereafter referred to as the avenger).
2. A tall gentleman carrying a compact or avenger must raise it when approaching another gentleman unless the other gent is the same height or greater in which case the avenger takes precedence over the compact.
3. A small gentleman carrying a compact should tilt it to pass a man of similar or lesser height. A small gentleman carrying an avenger obviously feels he's got something to prove and should be avoided at all costs.
4. When approaching an umbrella-bearing woman the gentleman should always both raise and tilt his umbrella as a mark of respect. Be careful not to impale passers by while doing this - it is considered very bad manners to do do.
5. In ascertaining whether to raise, lower or tilt ones umbrella when passing another umbrella user it is often necessary to stop in order to assess how the passer by will position their umbrella. This can often lead to two people standing in front of one another for hours, raising and lowering their umbrellas while deciding how to proceed. It is considered bad form to laugh and point at these people.
6. If travelling in London remember that the inhabitants are a crass and indolent lot and so all bets are off. Many of the inhabitants of London are adept in the ancient art of Upokemi-i umbrella combat and caution should be adopted.
Hope that these notes are useful. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Sunday 3 December 2006
ask not for whom the M6 tolls
Talullah and I have just returned from brief weekend in West Oxfordshire to visit sis and mater. Arrived home (stinking of gin... well, gingerbread latte, anyway) at 4pm on Saturday and left at 3pm on Sunday having spent 9 hours asleep. Funny to think that my parents always used to comment that I treated my home like a hotel - I always used to deny it when a teenager but now i'm in my 30s it feels like I do it on a regular basis.
Have realised how much I dislike the M6 toll road. It's not so much that tallulah and I resent paying money to travel down a road it's just that it's so...soul-less.
For those of you unfamiliar with aforesaid expressway imagine a scaled up model railway diorama with roads instead of rails but with the grass along the verge still looking like it's made of:
a) green flock sprinked over pvc adhesive
or
b) fake green plastic turf (the kind that for some reason often lines the bottom of butcher shop windows. i don't know why - perhaps the butcher is trying to create the impression that it's perfectly natural to see skinned and dismembered animals frolicking amongst leafy pastures).
To be fair, the trees might be nice when the've exceeded their current height of two feet.
I feel that a road one has to pay to travel along should have some form of entertainment - perhaps a group of minstrels in a car that keep pace with you, or an escapologist trying to free himself from the tartan straps that lash him to the roof rack of a Ford Cortina.
Would some dancing girls be too much to ask?
Have realised how much I dislike the M6 toll road. It's not so much that tallulah and I resent paying money to travel down a road it's just that it's so...soul-less.
For those of you unfamiliar with aforesaid expressway imagine a scaled up model railway diorama with roads instead of rails but with the grass along the verge still looking like it's made of:
a) green flock sprinked over pvc adhesive
or
b) fake green plastic turf (the kind that for some reason often lines the bottom of butcher shop windows. i don't know why - perhaps the butcher is trying to create the impression that it's perfectly natural to see skinned and dismembered animals frolicking amongst leafy pastures).
To be fair, the trees might be nice when the've exceeded their current height of two feet.
I feel that a road one has to pay to travel along should have some form of entertainment - perhaps a group of minstrels in a car that keep pace with you, or an escapologist trying to free himself from the tartan straps that lash him to the roof rack of a Ford Cortina.
Would some dancing girls be too much to ask?
Thursday 30 November 2006
the comment people
Hurrah - just logged on this evening after a day of Dodo avoidance....
(When I arrived at work it was sitting there, looking at me in an accusing and not entirely friendly manner. I chose to ignore it and it became simply an oppressive presence that everybody was aware of but refused to talk about.
You may be reading this and thinking the geek is being surreal, but in fact I _do_ have a Dodo waiting for me at work tomorrow. Just one of the many facets of my unconventional existence).
....anyway I logged on and found that I had a comment! Salutations, rapture and joy beyond measure - i'm no longer a comment virgin and will have to have a quick cigarette before I turn over and go to sleep.
(When I arrived at work it was sitting there, looking at me in an accusing and not entirely friendly manner. I chose to ignore it and it became simply an oppressive presence that everybody was aware of but refused to talk about.
You may be reading this and thinking the geek is being surreal, but in fact I _do_ have a Dodo waiting for me at work tomorrow. Just one of the many facets of my unconventional existence).
....anyway I logged on and found that I had a comment! Salutations, rapture and joy beyond measure - i'm no longer a comment virgin and will have to have a quick cigarette before I turn over and go to sleep.
Wednesday 29 November 2006
cutting out diary products
Well here we all are, almost twenty four hours into my life as a blogger. 24 hours is a long time - if I was Jack Bauer I would have beaten those pesky terrorists already and would be sat at home with a mug of Horlicks watching 'Hollyoaks'.
How do I feel - tense?, nervous?, jittery?...
...actually I feel kind of sleepy. Insomnia, I love it.
I thought that I would record some reasons for writing this blog. A long, long time ago (in a galaxy far away) a friend of mine (at the time they were a friend - but these things seem to oscillate) recommended to me that I write a diary.
It was, given the individual in question and our relationship at the time, probably a veiled attempt to say "Why don't you stop bothering me and write a diary?" but the principle was sound. Unfortunately I spurned the suggestion and continued pushing the door of life until I finally noticed it was marked "pull".
A lot has happened since then - I've found love and I've grown older and a very little bit wiser - but I still regret not writing that diary.
In many ways this isn't the diary that I didn't write.
Confused?
How do I feel - tense?, nervous?, jittery?...
...actually I feel kind of sleepy. Insomnia, I love it.
I thought that I would record some reasons for writing this blog. A long, long time ago (in a galaxy far away) a friend of mine (at the time they were a friend - but these things seem to oscillate) recommended to me that I write a diary.
It was, given the individual in question and our relationship at the time, probably a veiled attempt to say "Why don't you stop bothering me and write a diary?" but the principle was sound. Unfortunately I spurned the suggestion and continued pushing the door of life until I finally noticed it was marked "pull".
A lot has happened since then - I've found love and I've grown older and a very little bit wiser - but I still regret not writing that diary.
In many ways this isn't the diary that I didn't write.
Confused?
Tuesday 28 November 2006
Winston Churchill was a geek!
Greetings to all of you in what, one suspects, I'm going to have to call the 'blogosphere'.
I actually wanted to start a blog a week ago, when I turned thirty three. It made sense - at this age some men have already begun to plan for their mid-life crisis and have begun saving for a fast car and a chest wig. To me it seemed like the ideal way to mark this (not very) important event was to put together a blog - having seen at least one person through a public blog birthing already...
...and then I didn't. Things happened in that way that they do (both one after the other and simultaneously) and here I am a full week into my 34th year with no blog to speak of...
...and then this morning I opened my (inevitably free) newspaper to find that Winston Churchill has been outed as a geek. Hurrah! - the establishment icon who so many revere actually wrote fan letters to H.G. Wells and worked quotes from 'War of the worlds' into his speeches. If the guy was alive today he'd be hanging around outside Forbidden Planet and posting pictures on the Internet of himself in his homemade Darth Vader outfit.
I was suddenly (and rather bizarrely) inspired by Winnie's example to stop putting it off and tentatively place one of my oh-so-fine toesies in the tepid water of the blogosphere.
Will it work?
Will it be of interest to anyone?
Or will it be like that time I had the idea of writing 'Toastbusters' - a computer game for the ZX spectrum which largely revolved around making breakfast - and will I thankfully forget about it after a few days?
Only time (and my short attention span) will tell.
I actually wanted to start a blog a week ago, when I turned thirty three. It made sense - at this age some men have already begun to plan for their mid-life crisis and have begun saving for a fast car and a chest wig. To me it seemed like the ideal way to mark this (not very) important event was to put together a blog - having seen at least one person through a public blog birthing already...
...and then I didn't. Things happened in that way that they do (both one after the other and simultaneously) and here I am a full week into my 34th year with no blog to speak of...
...and then this morning I opened my (inevitably free) newspaper to find that Winston Churchill has been outed as a geek. Hurrah! - the establishment icon who so many revere actually wrote fan letters to H.G. Wells and worked quotes from 'War of the worlds' into his speeches. If the guy was alive today he'd be hanging around outside Forbidden Planet and posting pictures on the Internet of himself in his homemade Darth Vader outfit.
I was suddenly (and rather bizarrely) inspired by Winnie's example to stop putting it off and tentatively place one of my oh-so-fine toesies in the tepid water of the blogosphere.
Will it work?
Will it be of interest to anyone?
Or will it be like that time I had the idea of writing 'Toastbusters' - a computer game for the ZX spectrum which largely revolved around making breakfast - and will I thankfully forget about it after a few days?
Only time (and my short attention span) will tell.
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