Gradual disintegration

Tits up doesn't even begin to cover it.

Remember how I said I'd been out on Friday with lots of other people who teach the same subject as me and couldn't remember much about it? Well, I'm starting to think I might have embarrassed myself a lot more than I thought, judging by the understanding grin my head of department's been giving me all day. If that wasn't bad enough, I committed the ultimate faux pas this evening by ringing long-term yet unrequited love of life (to be shortened henceforth to Lyull) during the last hour of the fifth test. Having been instructed to ring back later, he then didn't answer the phone the two times I tried, having checked the tv magazine first this time. Wanker.

What pisses me off is that he tends to wait for the answer phone to click on before he answers at all, so he can see who's ringing. This means (if you know he does this) you end up burbling for a couple of minutes waiting for him to pick up, meaning that you don't have time to leave a proper, coherent message once you've realised he's actually not there at all.

Jamie thinks it's funny. Have to admit, life is a bit like something out of Bridget Jones at the moment. The best thing was the cricket result - the urn is ours!