je suis i am a pot of jam tu es thou art a clot o

Still have not got around to naming a character "Sigismund Arbuthnot the Mad Maths Master". Must do something about this.

Very glad that it's the weekend. Am going to have to make an excursion to locate a nearby post office tomorrow, as that is apparently where Parcelforce left a parcel they were supposed to deliver to me. I am trying hard to be grateful that I was actually informed of its whereabouts, and that it is comparatively close to me, rather than way out at wherever their depot is. At least the weather forecast is good.

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There was a writer – I’ll withhold his name – who died and was transported to Heaven. Finding himself standing before the throne of the Almighty, he fell to his knees in a rapture and cried:

“Lord! I read your New Testament and it changed my life! Everything I did was based on that book. It was the best thing ever written – better, even than the Old Testament!”

Then did the Lord God Jehovah start to his feet in a rage. Thunder and lightning played about his face and the universe shook as he cried:

“And what was wrong with my first book?”

-- quoted from Michael Swanwick's journal