I'm still in the bloody office, and God knows what time I'm going to get home tonight. And, yes, this is due to the backlog; and, no, a dose of prune juice won't sort it out - just in case anyone is tempted to repeat Dad's supposedly witty comment: the one that he made when he phoned me ten minutes ago to ask me why I was still at work. He's even less funny than the usual suspects think they are. And they're really not very funny at all.
I think I'll just go and have a five-minute power nap on the sofa in the Oprah room, and then I shall wake up rejuvenated, and ready to throw myself back into the fray...I hope.
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