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I lug my knapsack, and join the queue at the bus stop. It is one of those really cold days, made worse because the day before was on the other side of warm and I am not properly dressed for the weather - that, and the howling wind. There is a little queue building up - roadworks have meant that the bus is operating a slightly lighter schedule. A man walks up to me wearing a kilt and holding bag pipes. He seems to be in his late thirties or early forties and there is the ubiquitous whiff of alcohol on his breath - and a few weeks old stubble on his chin with a smattering of grey. I increase the volume a little more on my iPod to stave off the inevitable inane banter. He doesn’t seem impressed. He shifts from one foot to the other making wheezing noises all the time. ...

On the 4th ring, someone answers the phone. The voice is distant, seemingly attenuated by all the miles of cabling and ether between me and the recipient. There is a certain sleepy quality to the voice too, as though I have woken them up from the depths of an afternoon nap. Its late afternoon in that part of the world, that time of day when the oppressive heat and the lack of activity on a Sunday afternoon combine to lull one into a dreamy haze. ...

I finally beat my bout of the flu. Two days off work away from the cesspool of infection and re-infection - and a strong smelling concoction served up by my friend O - proved the final sucker punch that knocked out the few remaining colonies of the bug I picked up. I still do not consider myself at 100% fit, but at least it has become possible to settle into a close approximation of my old routines even though a slight headache remains. ...

Huddled around broken tables in the decrepit drawing office that served as a lecture theatre back in the day, a lesson in thinking on one’s feet was forced into our heads. At that time it was impossible to know the importance of that moment, or even remotely suspect that it could be a lifesaver in the distant future. There were no flashing light bulbs, no pressmen, no stenographers capturing the moment, no markers denoting the time and space where a life altering truth was uttered. ...

One of those so apt songs that leave one kinda depressed….. Sigh..

My head hurts… The unwanted gift of a hammering headache, a running nose, a sore throat and a rasping cough have laid into me - unintended consequences of open plan offices, shared spaces and recycled air laden with seasonal bugs. We have been pressed into the service of our very own macabre orchestra - our wheezing, sneezing and coughing all coming together in a bug fest.. I really wish I could call in sick tomorrow.. Sigh..

The Queen advertises for a dish washer to come on staff… My local MSP wonders if they’ve not heard of a dish washing machine. The WHO drills down into the alcohol stats.. Apparently alcohol killed more people than AIDS or TB in 2010.. Sobering.. Understanding the story.. Thirteen perspectives…. Brain chemicals and dating.. A primer. Teju Cole’s ‘Open City’ hits the shelves… The New Yorker, The Daily Beast and The Apostrophe weigh in with reviews. The kid named Facebook..Ostensibly its a testament to the impact FB had on the Egypt Revolution.. Hopefully, the kid doesn’t get a lot of stick for the name though.. There’s an app for that… Tracking relationship changes on Facebook gets the Web2.0 makeover….. SMH.. Web mourning? Help for the blokes - wristbands that warn of potentially PMSing partners. Bringing faiths together by cuisine.. The Faith and The Hot Dog show..

Sleep and I have never been the best of friends. As far down the labyrinths of memories that I can navigate I find that I have always been an early sleeper, prone to be awakened by the lightest of commotions. Perhaps it is me clutching at omens - seeking to find solace in unrelated events - but days when I have awakened early with full control of my senses something momentous has happened. ...

I am waiting for the bus to work when I see a four-wheel drive approach. Two men jump out and proceed to hand out invites of some sort. When I finally get mine, its for a seeker focused meeting at the Church opposite the road from the bus stop. In another place, these men would be armed with portable microphones, blaring out the Gospel.. Interestingly, what I remember is the white-clothed variant….

The size of the reading list for 2011 is threatening to spiral out of control. And I am adding more to the list… Added two new books to the list - Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist and Teju Cole’s Open City. That brings to five the books on the list.. Sigh..