I start to put plans in place. Given that the new HP film opens in the UK on Friday, there's contemplation of locating any t00bs who may be going to see it while visiting petulans and starcrossedgirl (*nudges petulans*), and then perhaps visiting jj_dog, maneatingtigger and countess_sophia. Other people on the to-do list include mattp and the other Manchester folk; tals and metzkass; bethanthepurple, bunnyowen and redandfiery...
Could be a busy social life, you think, as distinct from my customary hermitude? Could have been, more like it, because I've just spotted this letter on the doormat:
Dear Mr Dekker[...]
We would like to invite you to arrange an appointment
to see a Consultant or member of their team in the Neurosurgery Department
by telephoning our Booking Centre
Yipes. This is probably a Spine Thing. Unless they've decided that my depression would be better treated by removing my brain and replacing it with custard. Of course it's probably going to be an appointment where nothing more interesting happens than I get told that I'll be going onto Yet Another Waiting List and that I shouldn't expect anything to happen for at least another 18 months, but these things have a habit of going rapidly when one least expects them to.
I'll just have to see, won't I?
 It's a wombat brain, of course, and so is composed of fluff and wood-chippings.