23January1996

My dear folks,

It’s been a busy couple of days - or rather, nights. I’ve 2 nightshifts behind me & 1 to go. The TV News is telling us about the horrors of being a Hutu refugee. Mavis is fed & warming his hide beside a convenient radiator. It’s cold & windy, with a wind chill factor well under zero. Jones has been out seeing a friend & will doubtless come in half-frozen shortly after walking home. We had a wicked night Sunday into Monday. Last night was thankfully more relaxed, with a sense that we were running the programme rather than just keeping it on the air. The latest software for our computer system has bug that crashes it virtually every day, paralysing the machinery that spits videotapes into the programme. Causes havoc. The engineers are searching desperately but looking for a bug in computer software makes the proverbial pin in a haystack seem like a lark.

Last night, a contact from South Africa came round to discuss interests of his that I look after here. We went up the road to look at a flat & then returned for a take-away curry supper, delivered by Tandoori Nights, the Indian eatery just over the road. It was very good. Jones, for once, was disinclined to eat curry, & left us to it. I saw him off just in time to leap into the Rocket & take myself to work. The weather did not encourage cycling. It was even less encouraging this morning, as gusts of wind ripped at hats & jackets. As I drove home, I saw half a dozen grim-faced cyclists braving both the elements & the heavy traffic & for once was grateful for the security of a car .

I slept well today, always such a valuable launch for the coming night. I had a remarkable dream during the course of which a perfectly naked young woman riding a motor scooter swerved to avoid someone & came off, sliding on her back along the ground in very annoyed & painful fashion. I was able to bring her to a stop & was relieved to find her wounds superficial. I gave her a comforting peck on the arm before continuing without her into the next chapter of the dream which greys off into a haze.

Cathy thank you for your fax & your news, always welcome. I wait to hear whether Anita’s fax missive to the Witbankers discovers any signs of literary life in that part of the world. I rather have my doubts. Mother, I’m adding a few pages of SA news of the Internet. I haven’t had a chance to follow up the SA newspaper subscription here but I will do so at the first opportunity. I’m also sending an email note which I’ve had from Morna. We are off tomorrow afternoon on our 48 hour break to France where the weather promises to freeze our butts off. Just as long as we don’t hit a Channel storm, I don’t much mind. We had planned to drive down to Southampton to catch the ferry but we have decided to take a train instead. As I’ll only have a couple of hours sleep under the belt, it’s eminently more sensible.

Jones is back, her outer layers decidedly wet but sufficiently removed from her inner layers to leave the essential Jones quite dry. She’s about to serve supper. Let me bid you good day and good night.

Blessings