OK, so I've not been well. The clue's been up in the title bar since Monday (for those of you that missed it, it said 'Ooh I'm not well (groan)!!!') and oddly enough, I wasn't. So I went home and haven't been back into work yet. It's currently almost midnight on Tuesday - I really should be in bed, but I think I may have slept too much through the days yesterday and today. Feeling much better though, you'll all be pleased to learn.

Any road up, the weekend's activities have not been recorded, so here goes.
Friday: Left work and went to meet up with my old mate Andy from Capital Radio (where I used to work) and his other half Sue. Andy and I met in The Lamb in Lamb's Conduit Street for a swift beer and then hit the restaurant to meet Sue. Had nice spanish food at Cigala and then I wandered, in a semi-minkered state, to Barcode, to meet Nick (my lovely flatmate) and David and Ian (see links below left). Continued to minker and had a great time - until the queue for a cab home when I realised I'd somehow completely forgotten about my bag the moment I'd set foot in the bar. Great. Wandered back in but to no avail. Gone. Home and sleep. Up very early on
Saturday: Continuing the theme of weird dreams from earlier in the week, I woke just as Martina Hingis had lost the first set to Maria Rubia - former model and guest vocalist on the current Fragma single. I've no idea if Ms Rubia does play tennis, but the 6-4 scoreline in my head suggests she's a dab hand. Train to York to spend the weekend with my Dad. Managed to catch up with my friend Richie and his boyf Martyn for coffee and then a swift beer or three. Home for dinner with Dad and then down the local boozer for more beer - post 'I love 1983' which was fantastic and really took me back. Blockbusters and leg-warmers. Oh dear. Must be getting old. Home and into a small coma until
Sunday: Awoke to another vague dream memory. This time Richard (Martyn's brother) and I were fighting off aliens by actually playing Space Invaders against them. We managed to get rid of a lot of them, but then they managed to get into the building we were in and I decided we could fight them off using revolvers. This logic was that as revolvers were from many years previously (I'd obviously set my dream in the future sometime) the aliens would not recognise them as weapons and we could pick them off. I've no idea if it worked though, as I woke up. Hmmm. Out for lunch with Dad to the local sports club, where I wouldn't be surprised to see leg-warmers still being considered fashionable. Train to London and down the Vauxhall. Missed the show, but not all my mates. The usual fun was had by all, though not as minkered as usual. Didn't stop me going on to Marvellous at Sub South - which was an odd mix of music and people, but strangely OK. Home and bed.

So, that was the weekend that was. What is going on with this dream stuff??