Triple re-union and the truth about the ginger gene "skipping a generation"

The reunions at the weekend went well, too much was drunk all round and I had a severely queezy spell on the way from Sunday lunch in Woking to dinner with my brother and cousins in NE London on the "rail replacement" bus outside guildford. I swear they weren't actually working on the line, I certainly didn't see any activity. More likely they shut it down every Sunday to save on wear and tear (bloody Railtrack). Friday night I stayed with Smudge in St Catherines, drinks and curry with the smudgers, DP Richard and Sparky. Saturday I had a reunion with poly mates. It's the first time we've all been in the same place since our Spanish post-wedding party, I think. Sunday I went south to meet Phil and Will's spouses and their gaggle of kids in Woking then ran North terrified to my brother's where I was confronted by yet more babies. Smudge mate, all that stuff about the ginger gene skipping a generation is all shite. I rekon the league of gingers made it up to convince their spouses that it's safe to breed. I saw 2 kids of ginger dads over the weekend. Widdles bairn is more at the strawberry blonde end of the scale, but Ameli (my cousin Polly's daughter) is more deeply ginger than I have ever seen, short of a bottle of Loreal. Have the dye ready at the hospital mate, you're gonna need it.

It's been a shitty week on the job hunting front, I think a pretty decent opportunity slipped through my fingers last week, although I spent a feverish couple of hours chasing it down yesterday and, if my timing has been right (ie lucky) then I should be able to slide in in the last furlong next week. That or they never intended to contact me again in the first place and just told me they'd be calling me back for an intervew to yank my chain, in which case I was shafted from the moment they met me in anycase. Damn my interview technique.

I'll stop there for now. This has been a 5 minute retype of a post that I lost 15 minutes ago (10 minutes spent groaning and contemplating the aerodynamic characteristics of teh Psion 7 that Smudge bequethed me from his techno graveyard on the weekend). To be honest, I had spent too long on that and had been considering dumping it anyway, so the P7 has probably all saved you the task of scrolling to the bottom of an even longer post to find the comments button.

Bomber out