I've just been presented with a leaving card and gift. I was certainly caught by surprise as I looked up to find all these people in a crescent around my desk. I've had a good run at Unilever and learned a fair bit about the systems, the supply chain and business rules and practices. My face is still burning from the partial embarrassment; in my role as grumpy young man, I thought they would just let me slip away, quietly, let me die in my chair, at least in my sleep, wait for the end of next week and slip away into the darkness of my future.

Last night I listened to Andrew's radio show on Anti-gravity. It was very well done and the mixture of nutters and scientists was very funny. The old boy who had a flying machine smash through his ceiling, his land-lady's ceiling and the roof, only to have it hover above the trees glowing whilst the neighbor's son shot at it with his pellet gun had me rolling on the floor laughing. I recently read 'Regeneration' by Pat Barker which explores the world of PTSD experienced by WW1 soldiers. OK, it had more to do with Sigfried Sassoon and his homo buddy Wilfred Owen. I couldn't help but think that the old boy who, when he switched on his fabulous flying machine and watched it take off from his kitchen table, breaking through roofs and ceilings and ended up glowing and hovering above a tree outside, was actually deeply scarred by bomb raids.

Why must mysterious things always glow and hover?