Cafe Nescafe, Rosebank

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

Service: * *
Food: N/A
Ambience: * * *
Babe Count: * * * *

I'm sure there's a modeling agency somewhere nearby. There is just way too much prime babeflesh jauncing around. All thin and bony, hence, not quite what I'm after, since flesh is what I dig, not the marrow. But heck, it's good to sit here on a weekday morning feasting the eyes. Cos hey, even if I'm nowhere near bedding any of these babes, watching is lovely.

I'm not at work cos I know tonight's crunch night. I've got to sign off the majority of this week's episodes tonight, and it's going to be a late one. It's Steve's last week, and he's got a crushing load of programs to edit. I can only go in at lunchtime, once he's finished, cos I need to use his edit suite to do my viewing, seeing as I do quite a bit of re-editing to get the stuff into the shape I want it in.

So I'm sitting here reading the last few pages of Rushdie's THE GROUND BENEATH HER FEET. A superb book. Highly recommended, though nowhere near the absolute miracle which is MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN (one of my top three books, along with Nicholas Moseley's HOPEFUL MONSTERS, A.S. Bayatt's POSSESSION, and John Irving's THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP and HOTEL NEW HAMPSHIRE. Okay. That's five on my top three list. But who's counting?).

However, I can't concentrate. I'm still burning up over Jacqui's unbelievable gutshot of an email.

I send her an sms. "Please send me the email you promised to send me ages ago in which you list my good points."

She messages me back that she'll do it tonight. Great. I'll be waiting.