I am back at work today and feeling out of sorts. Sweden seems far away and I can't even remember what happened, how I felt or why I felt that way. It's a good thing I posted the blog entry otherwise I might never have held on to the search for the source of my discontent. For readers out there, the hospital scenario is an attempt at the beginnings of a book - if I get enough of it written down I could put a frame-work together and fatten it all up. Once I have more will post it up on a seperate link so that chapters can be read.

I decided I needed to buy an iron and ironing board since my collection of clothes that require ironing has grown. There is nothing worse than wearing clothes that should be ironed and aren't.

Hassan and I went to a Thai restaurant for lunch which made a decent change from the shit they serve up in the canteen. Since the boss was away for a couple of hours we took a stroll through the city to browse windows. I went to Argos to get the iron and board. I have never been to Argos before and it turned out to be quite an experience, the fast food of applicance stores. You find what you want in a catalogue, pay by means of a machine and collect your goods, as I did mine, in 1 minute and 41 seconds.

I ordered an ironing board with black and white cow patterns on. When my domestic clobber arrived, I got handed a board with purple and white polka dots on. I had no choice but to take it. Walking back to work through the city, Holborn, Temple and Blackfriars I was getting some strange looks. I walked past a row of builders sitting on a wall, me with my polka ironing board and fancy shirt, I wanted to explain to them that I was a normal straight guy but thought it better not to.