I'll Be Glad When You're Dead You Rascal You

Don't worry, I'm not talking to you.

I have a habit of whistling or even singing quietly to myself if I'm under stress at work, just to keep myself sane, you know. Which is fine as long as I choose an appropriate song, but the one that was running through my head on a particularly stressful and hectic work day today was Louis Armstrong singing the above song from the Betty Boop cartoon of the same name (which I watched last night). I had to be careful not to sound like I was telling my colleagues essentially that I would dance on their graves.

The last bag of rhubarb and custards that I bought from Sainsbury's were mostly roughly three-quarters custard-bit, but this latest bag I've got are the other way round. As someone who used to work in a sweet factory, I wonder if this was the result of cost-cutting measures, or running out of certain ingredients, or problems with the machine.

I'm busy typing up my transcripts from the othello tournament on Saturday. I normally like to play through my games to see where I went wrong or right, but since I was playing so dreadfully on Saturday I think I'll skip that exercise so as not to depress myself unduly. I remember playing a couple of absolutely terrible moves because I missed something really obvious. The worst thing about Saturday was losing my 100% win record against at least two players, maybe as many as four (pick whichever of Joel Blackmur, Steve MacGuire, Aidan Robison and George Ortiz haven't beaten me in a live tournament game before - I can't remember exactly which of them have, but I've only played them one or two times each). This kind of statistic is important to me. That's why I've assiduously avoided Takuji Kashiwabara for the last three years - I think I might feign a heart attack or hide under the table (whichever seems easiest at the time) if I end up drawn against him again.