Monday morning and I feel OK about it. I woke this morning feeling notably more human than ever. We got Tor all moved yesterday which was a step forward. Her new flat is nice, a little too nice perhaps. It has stripy Laura Ashley wallpaper everywhere, but it's more than comfortable, it's a small palace owned by one of the consultants at the hospital. It has a lift and only two flats on each floor, so the apartments are huge. I met her neighbours the Blumenthal's, a South African couple. Tor heard them arguing over the fact that Charmaine had bought yet another pair of shoes, Rodney was not happy. You have to love it really.

I received a pitiful text message from Tor saying that she felt all lonely-like without me or Phil about - I wonder if she knows that I never reply because I never charge my SIM card. I'll call today and find out if she had to eat meusli for supper.

I spent the afternoon sleeping and napping on my once forgotten bed. My room is like a new place that requires rediscovery. The air was warm, a cool breeze was blowing in the flat, perfect Sunday napping conditions. Last night we had a rooftop BBQ. Phil and I sat up there enjoying the cool air, drinking ice cold beers and eating our Kofti Pita's. We have garden furniture up on the roof so it's easier to spend more time up there as opposed to finding somewhere to plant your ass. We sat and admired the sunset and everything was zen.

I have a meeting this afternoon that was postponed last Friday. Phil finds it incredible that last Friday's meeting was actually postponed on account of me being asleep in occupational therapy. I told the lady to wake me at 13:45 as I had a meeting at 14:00. She woke me up at 15:15 saying that she had tried to wake me, but it was like trying to wake the dead. I can't remember a darker room and more welcoming bed.

Friday night at Unilever was good bye Latin America. Seeing as Unilever house is being revamped all the departments are being split up and moving elsewhere. We end up with celebrations every Friday night when the drinks are free. It would be throwing money away not to go down there and drink the bar dry. There was a hired bar with a margarita machine, like a slush-puppy machine. It could churn out frosted cocktail one after the other and I made sure I was there, getting the barman's business card and filling my glass as swiftly as I could empty it. Sucker. Once the machine was empy, mild panic set in until I realised how many orphaned Margarita's needed my loving care, needed me to swoop them off other tables and coerce their frosty advances down my throat whilst their neglectful owners who had now forsaken them shook their booties to the bongo drums.