Today I am working from bed. Yesterday we had our company's annual general meeting (complete with live video link up with offices around the world), never a good experience, and I had my appointment with the GP and Pope Benedict this morning so I was able to persuade my co-workers that working from home was the best option. The joys of wireless broadband.
It's official: I'm mad. Counselling will start soon.
However, no one should worry about me because, as my mother told me, "Jonathan Cainer in the Daily Mail (he's quite good, you know) says everything's going to be okay." Well, that's a relief isn't it? Almost as reassuring as the time she told me, after we'd had a blazing row and I was sobbing with incoherent rage, that my grandmother was sitting on the bed next to me and stroking my hair. My grandmother had been dead for several years at that point.