Not seen too much of the outside world this past seven days. Not been to bed before midnight for a while. Entered the next phase of sleep deprivation today, a not unpleasant mild euphoric feeling. Though that could have been the blueberry muffin kicking in mid-morning.

Been helping wifey with her 10,000+ word dissertation, acting as, if you will, the EDitor. I've questioned whole paragraphs, rejigged umpteen sentences and sometimes (but not always) had the final word.

Mandatory sections:

• abstract: Pollock, de Kooning, and Rothko did as New Order suggested and expressed themselves, though only one of these inspired a song by the Manic Street Preachers, now playing on iTunes (4:17 length).
• title page: they call me Mister Broom. This is page (i), doncha know, but you're not allowed to put the page number. Oh no.
• preface: suppose that the organisation which used to be called MAFF named a new breed of cow after Francis, the Everton to Arsenal and back to Everton again striker, and that you had to write a report on these animals. You'd need a preface for DEFRA's Jeffers heifers.
• table of contents: Just what is Toc H with its building on Fonnereau Road and with a track named after them on that Pink Floyd album?
• body of the text: I lose track - who's The Body these days?
• appendices: one of those great plurals, like vertices and mices.
• bibliography:
  • Coupland D, Shampoo Planet (1992)
  • Keillor G, Lake Wobegon Days (1985)
  • Stephenson N, Snow Crash (1992)
  • Vonnegut, K, Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)

Now. Need. Sleep.

Be seeing you!

Ed