good old mike

I met an old friend today, Mike Stamford.

"I got fat."

"I got shot."

There you go. Fifteen years summed up in six words.

I mentioned needing a flatmate. Maybe he'll come up with something. Mike knows everyone. Haven't got much hope though. Who'd want to share a flat with me? (Rhetorical question. No strange offers, please.)

(Try me next month.)

doctor's orders

I'm supposed to write about my life, about the things that happen to me, day to day things. That's what she said. Dr E, let's call her, for the sake of a thin veil of privacy. Hers or mine.

I don't know why I'm concerned; no one's going to read this anyway. I wouldn't, if I weren't me. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, welcome to the world's most boring blog.