Day after the Lord Mayor's show

The problem with having all of your birthdays in a single, brief period of time is that, sooner or later, they all come to an end and you are left with nothing to look forward to other than the slow decomposition of your brain. 

Or at least, that is what I felt on Day 2 of my slog through the minutes of a local NGO, which I have been tasked with translating into French.

It is a horrible job, but it is a month's work and it will keep me in table wine and cheese for a couple of months. That is the beauty and the horror of self-employment.

Couple of phone calls to relatives who were all happier than me with their daily existence. I tried to explain this to Ottawacker Jr. over dinner (left over Indian and cake - but notably NOT left over Indian cake). He couldn't have cared less.