I'm going under the knife tomorrow, admittedly not a very big knife, but it matters to me- remember Tony Hancock. However, at least my 'Pre -Op' mental status quickly excused me of another potentially  godawful meeting this lunchtime. You know I have never known a MEETING to have achieved ANYTHING in thirty years of university life (it is also my birthday tomorrow- so I know that exactly- it IS thirty years).

Instead ~I made for the White Horse to sooth my soul and found the remarkable Franca look as if she were suspended perfectly horizontally by wires naked from the pole- and then slipped down it imperceptibly like a magician. It's a very secure place the White Horse (for me) and full of wonder and I thought 'best to have a couple of drinks now rather than later', and 'weren't/arn't Journey a crap rock band'. These are the thoughts that flourish in such circumstances as the White Horse. Dhalia came over and chatted to me about her stalker and her work backing up at university reading 'recreational studies' at Tin Pot University. That's the way it is- and that is civilization.

Hospitals on the other hand, are full of mad people especially the doctors and, god help me, surgeons. Who in their right mind at eighteen years of age says 'I want to be a doctor because I'm bright'. It must be the cruelest of delusional fantasies inflicted by 'The Machine' on our young. Surely when they are gaping in to whatever they have to gape into for the millionth time they realize they've been conned. Now all those of my generation are suddenly subjected to continual probing, gaping and fifteen page questionaires about our lifestyles and it is not pleasant. Well I can tell you if I could say I ran five miles a day and drank one glass of wine with dinner and thought fun was climbing a fucking fell hopped up on vitamin tablets in the rain while happily playing fucking badminton with my colleagues over weekday lunches and eating nothing but mung beans whilst furiously banking- I'd be FUCKING INSANE. 

I may be the worst patient ever. Julie has the whisky on ice for when I get home.

Of course, dear readers, since I've paid my bills and may never return, I should point out that being an architect may be the second cruelest and delusional fantasy for young minds, but if you can learn to learn from life itself, not so bad a subject at all. 

Goodbye to all that.