February 10th, 2004

ian

Gloomy but hot

It's almost eight o'clock, but the headlights are still peering out of the gloom. Yet it is hot, humid, muggy. Just the sort of day you don't want. It's not a good day to go to work, but it's not a good day to stay home either. I've moved offices again, back to the head office, though the place I was before had an equally valid claim to be head office. I'll be sure that I have moved once Mr Grumpy is sitting on my desk, but until then, nothing can be certain. Long time readers will remember Mr Grumpy.

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ian

You never can tell

It's a glorious sunny evening! The ghastly morning has left no trace. The second day back in the old building went well. The satisfaction of a job well done. In other news, very little. The struggle to write innovative entries here is sometimes too much for me, so maybe I should stop.

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ian

Of course

Of course, after writing that, the weather deteriorated and we are in the middle of a bedtime rain storm. If you were a workman set on stealing from a home, what would you steal? Money, beer, wine, spirits, CDs, that post of thing? Or a bottle of grenadine syrup and nothing else? No, we can't prove it, and I can't see a conviction ever coming of such a thing. But we can't see any other explanation. Remember what Sherlock said: rule out the impossible and what's left, no matter how improbable, is truth

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