Birthday whatsit

After discussing it with the trainee librarian and she who works for the arch-enemy, it was reckoned that birthday would be best on monday (8th Jan, you feckless lot) rather'n sunday. Restaurant/bar in centre of London somewhere. Please to comment if you want to come and be silly, along with suggestions for where to go.

Back at work. Facing inbox o' doom. aiiiiieee!

Also, had the utter classic : the indignant email from an american author who had no life over the holidays and wanted to know why his manuscript hadn't gone through yet. Reply : 'We were on holiday.' Subtible : 'it's not our fault you live in a backwards colonial wasteland that believes in the least holiday per year in the west. Also, you bastards were incommunicado for a week in November and expect the rest of the world to suck it up. Consider this our revenge.'

Tonight will be Torchwood watching numero 3. During which I will once again make high-pitched squeeing noises and be slightly in awe of the *accuracy* of Eve Myles' grief acting, dignity be damned. And fall for John Barrowman all over again. :sigh: That man. Just... :wibble:

:pokes womb: stop giving me mild cramps. It's annoying.