Death becomes me

It's got to the point where I can't really bluff through it anymore. The fact is, I've got a terrible cold. Awful. I haven't been able to taste anything since about 11am on Monday when the snot in my nose reached a critical mass.

It's my fault - I failed to deploy my First Defence when I first felt that fatal "uh-oh" back-of-the-throat tickle. Anyway, not being able to taste anything (plus a coldy weakness in my brain) means that even if I could drag myself to the kitchen to cook something, I wouldn't be able to tell you if it was nice or not. So I'm going to have to talk about something else today.

You may have noticed that I've got the radio tuned to Capital FM. Well, I say "tuned", but it's a digital radio so you just press a button and there it is. Anyway, it's on Capital FM not because I drive a white van in my spare time or am a third year at boarding school in the home counties, but because of my last job.

I wasn't that crazy about my last job - as evidenced by the fact that I'm not doing it anymore - and when I was there, in order to drown out various things that made being there especially unbearable, (the sound of my desk phone ringing, people asking me to do things etc), I used to listen to the radio through my computer, on headphones. It's possibly the most anti-social thing I've ever done in an office - aside from consistently refusing to wear shoes.

Anyway, the only radio station that came through loud and clear without endless "buffering" was Capital FM. So that's what I listened to for at least three hours a day, five days a week for about a year.

Then I left and quickly realised that because of that constant association of work with Capital FM, I now can't do anything unless I'm listening to it. I can't write, cook, tidy up or really concentrate on anything (except TV) unless Capital FM is on, somewhere. Strange. But true.