I was fast asleep this morning (if not sleeping the sleep of the just, sleeping the sleep of a man who's Tegretol dose has just been doubled) when I was awoken by a godawful noise. Was it The Rapture? Had the last trump been sounded by Angels banging brass bells, and loosing the hounds of Hades? Were these my last moments here on earth?
No, of course they weren't. The angel was a mildly cute young blonde from DHL carrying a parcel; the brass bell was, ummm, my brass doorbell; and the hounds of hell were Biggles, who was mildly annoyed at being awoken from his sleep, especially now that he is a big star on the BBC (see yesterday).
I came downstairs in my dressing gown, and blearily signed for the parcel. As I did so, a gust of wind caught my dressing gown and I would have been in grave danger of being accused of indecent exposure had it not been for the fact that the DHL seraph was looking in the other direction. My modesty relatively, intact I took the parcel.
It was Steve Jones's extremely generous gift to us of a Tb external hard drive. Thanks mate....