Picture the scene. Its 4am and me, "Mr Workaholic on a Saturday night only got to bed two hours earlier" finds himself ambushed by two noisy little baskets; Swan and Rufio. Although I love having a chat, the wee small hours of the morning isn't my favourite time. What I can't understand is why I got out of bed to open the door. Apparently my expression was totally priceless as I pried it open and was bundled into my room. Yeh I bet it was.

Something else has also caught my attention. Yesterday, while I was dressed up for Leon's birthday pub golf (although I didn't go, I entered into the spirit of things), Dizzy asked to all around "Doesn't Andy look sweet?".

Sweet? What? Since when have I been sweet? This echoes two days ago when I was working in my room, head down slicing up some card with a scalpel and Amz walked past the door. The next sound she made was unbelievable. She 'Ahhhhhhed' me. Like 'Ahhhhhh', look at the little baby squirrels rearranging acorns into the words 'I Wuv You'. What's happened? Have I suddenly turned into a fluffy bunny rabbit? Even with a scalpel in my hand do I truly deserve to be patronised like this? WTF?

And it's not even like I have been reading Enid Blyton books or buying pink objects. Just to reiterate, I am a bloke and I do blokey things like drinking beer and watching rugby, not Marvin the Happy Hamster. This better stop before I do something undesirable with that knife.

Yesterday I cracked on with getting some of the CAD work out of the way, but unfortunately it's slow progress. Maybe I'll do some more this afternoon. I have a meeting I'll have to work around where the Materials Crew are coming up at 1pm, but that's the only constraint.

I was well chuffed last night to catch up on three more episodes of The OC. I bloody love that programme.

It's 11.47am. I really need to get up.