Many bloggers write interminable postings about exciting nights out, brushes with celebrity and travel to exotic locations. I think a deep seated need to make other people jealous must form a significant part of the psyche of these people. But I for one am above such pettiness, as I shall demonstrate by telling you about the least eventful weekend of my life.
It started on Thursday evening when I managed to concoct one of the least appetising meals of history out of a seemingly innocuous combination of ricotta, spinach, pasta and (for some reason) plum tomatoes. Usually when I'm hungry I can eat practically anything, but even I had to ditch the slop I served up on Thursday. But unfortunately I had managed to plow through a good portion of it before coming to my senses and I was made to pay early on Friday morning when the sound of my gurgling stomach woke me up and told me it was time to head to Borehamwood (the world's least inspiring office location). 7 hours of keyboard tapping later, my stomach hadn't settled down but it was time to head off for a 10 course duck and crab banquet. I (manfully, in my opinion) battled through most of the duck courses, but I didn't get very far with the crab - partly due to my rebelling stomach and partly because I'm never very good with crab - the shell:meat ratio just doesn't work for me.
I woke up late on Saturday still feeling under the weather and spent most of the day curled in a ball in bed. Somehow I forced myself to wake up long enough in the evening to watch 80 minutes of the dullest rugby ever played. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad the Springboks won, but really you shouldn't be allowed to win a World Cup without at least scoring one try in the final. Fiji would have been worthier winners.
I woke up on Sunday to a beautiful autumn day in London with clear blue skies and bright sunshine. I was feeling much better as well, until I realised that it was almost 11am and I'd just slept for roughly 22 of the last 24 hours. Thinking I could just fight my way through the stomach issues, I then proceeded to make a series of really, really bad decisions by: going swimming, eating a lunch consisting almost entirely of rice pudding (my first meal in 36 hours), playing squash (a truly terrible effort - I could barely move) and downing a pint of Kronenburg 1664. The final move was my worst and my stomach exacted swift retribution. I spent the rest of the day crawling between the bathroom and my bedroom. I went to bed at 9pm.
I woke up this morning feeling just better enough to not be able to justify a sick day. In fact, I had to get up super early and arrive at the office at 7am in order to use the printer because the one in Borehamwood doesn't work. Lucky me. 12 hours after choosing the double-sided, two to a page option, I'm lying here on the couch watching Britain's Official Top 40 (which is reminding me why I don't generally watch TV any more). Feeling jealous yet? Thought so.