Touching wood with crossed fingers, etc., etc., I've been feeling a little better since yesterday. At this rate, I should be over my illness just in time to go back to work. Sigh. I had considered phoning work to say I was cancelling my holiday and then phoning a few minutes later to say I was sick, but I didn't think they'd go for that.

The weather is turning back to full-on summer after a wet and cold few days. It's really hot already today, and it's still mid-morning. Next few days are supposed to get even better.

Steph finished her first week at work, so we decadently celebrated (well, we're too puritan for real decadence, but we did get wine and pizzas and watch DVDs, so that's got to be decadent, right?) The good thing is, Steph seems to be loving the job. I'm wondering when I can retire.

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And it was a big 'Fuck You' from George Bush to the rest of the world this week. Yep, as expected, the G8 summit totally failed to agree to do anything about climate change and global warming, and there's no doubt that it was Bush dragging his stupid cowboy heels who was to blame. Most of the rest of the G8 were up for action, but came away with nothing. No doubts who was wearing the trousers in that summit.

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We have no choice but to go to the village fete this afternoon. It takes place across the street from us, so we can't escape. This is not my kind of thing, but that's what you get from living in a small town rather than a city, and I really don't want to live in Leeds.