Forays into the mundane . . .

What is it with the Google bot, eh? It keeps popping in to to see my web-site - which is nice - almost on a daily basis, and yet I do a Google search for 'Drunvalo Mondeo' and it returns nothing. So, as a further test to the Google bot, here are two more words that you will only ever see in this web-page (well, at time of writing anyway):

So what happened today? Today I ordered loads and loads of stuff to do up my house with. I've owned my house for . . . sh*t, you know, it's a year ago yesterday. I didn't realise. Yes, anyway. So, I own this house, yeah? But I haven't exactly done much with it. You see, if you have, say, 200 spare, what are you gonna spend it on? Some new loudspeakers? An upgrade to the turntable? Perhaps a printer? Or maybe, maybe, maybe, it can go towards a digital camera. Hmmmmm. But who wants to buy boring stuff like polyfiller, power drills, paint (hmmmm, alliteration, keep going), erm . . . no, I can't think of any more P related DIY things. But you get my idea, yeah? When there are so many interesting things to waste our precious money on, who wants to spend it on sh*t we really don't need? My house works, after all. So, that's my problem, and why I don't do much DIY. But I've removed all my bannisters. Yes, bannisters. I think the previous previous owners were a bit old and infirm, bless 'em. This meant that accompanying every single step throughout my house, there would be a set of bannisters above, drilled to the wall. These I have removed, often leaving behind wall-plugs embedded in the wall or else ugly holes in the plaster. So, that means . . . polyfiller. Can I say polyfiller? Is that a trade name? So, yes, the polyfiller . . . and tools to apply it with. Then I need wire wool and 'abrasion paper' (I don't think we call it sand or glass paper any more, perhaps because it's made with aluminium (aluminum for you North Americans out there) oxide) to remove all the old varnish from my second-hand kitchen table (and maybe one day all the chairs), and then some varnish to replace all that. And what else did I get? House, house, house, what else do you need? Urgh, minging - I just scratched my sweaty back and a bit of . . . no, I shouldn't say that . . . think of the grandparents . . . or the parents, as I have none of the former now. Who?! Yes, anyway, where was I? Yeah, so . . . I ordered that stuff from Screwfix. It's a Tuesday. Nothing much happens on Tuesday.

And then more strange dreams . . . I was 'with' this girl whose face I didn't recognise and . . . it was one of those dreams were you wake up and think, "Who the hell was she?" It reminded me of the sub-plot within the film Brazil, whereby the lead character keeps having this dream about this woman and becomes, well, a bit obsessed with her upon discovering that she is real. Odd, very odd. It could just be someone I glimpsed once, or perhaps saw in a film or on television, or maybe someone from many, many years ago . . . either way, no conscious memory exists. As I wandered around on my lunch break, I was actually looking at people, thinking, "Was it her? Or her, maybe?" Then it occurred to me (wow - profound revelation coming up. Hang on), I wonder if other people who I've never met dream about me? And then I got to thinking . . .