Of course, the positive side of recieving bizarre mail such as this is that it makes for something to publish on days when nothing seems to happen:


From: S----- B-----
Sent: 24 November 1998 1:18 pm
To: Nelson, Ian
Subject: Mock Journal
Journal Entry 2 - Tuesday.
"Ian was late into work this morning. He claimed to have overslept, but did he merely need time to collect himself, re-construct the emotional wreckage and ready himself for his mild-mannered working outlook? Even his manager approached me and two others about Ian's late-comming. He seemed concerned, maybe even distressed. Can he see Ian's madness consuming him? Are the cracks in the wall slowly becoming visible? At lunch Ian was sat next to S----- L----- - this was asking for trouble. I could see the expression of hate upon Ian's face, the occasional glance at the knife perched on the dinner-plate. I slid a little further back into my chair, as to distance myself from any spray of blood from S-----'s neck. As things came to a head, and the bloody climax was approaching, Ian restrained himself and left the dinner table. How much longer will this last? One day, he'll snap, and it won't be pretty. Today he asked me what day it was. Maybe Ian's loosing touch with reality? Surely a bad sign. It looks as though things are going to turn ugly...and very soon."

OK, so perhaps the joke was wearing thin, but it was another relatively boring day. It's a shame so much of this mail is apocryphal, otherwise it'd make quite an interesting online journal.

In the evening I thought about going to see Antz at the cinema, but my stomach was playing up again, so I hung around the house watching TV. Surprisingly, there were a few decent programmes on, including one where a high-flying executive type is made to spend a week working at the grass-roots of their organisation. It gives you (and, presumably, them) an interesting perspective on matters. I wonder what our MD would think, if she were in my position for a week? She'd probably be bored to tears; I certainly am.