peanutbutter cookies and coffee. I was at the hairdressers this morning and still feel quite strange when I look in the mirror. I'm not sure what got into me, but there it is :-)
Other than that, all the late night bike rides in the rain seem to be getting to me. At least I'm not actually coughing up blood like in my dream last night.
At the moment I'm trying to find the right words which will hopefully persuade "Der Direktor" that I am perfect for the job. At the same time listening to BBC:
"Time now for one of the Hungarian Dances of which Brahms wrote: they are genuine children of the gypsies, not begotten by me, merely nourished on milk and bread." (??)