Today, contrary to my inclination to rather classic wardrobe approaches that certain of my Aqoul colleagues can attest to having had the distiinct displeasure of actually having seen the real Lounsbury in person, I decided (as no meetings, and frankly I got up late after a week of sleep deprivation) to do a little semi-casual mix-and-match. Jacket and slacks.

My dear partner, upon seeing this at our evening rendez-vous said, and I quote (in translation), "What the bloody hell is that? What are you wearing."

Evidently, not being a poofter cutting edge fashionista, and without leggings, my semi casual approach was not a success in the demanding world of Arab financial after hours hob nobbing. I was very amused. I was particularly amused (although wounded I do confess as really I should say I think the ensemble was quite sporting) to hear that "This is summer wear, how can you put that on in winter." Or the bit about blue and tan - I confess a bit public schoolish, but still.

Properly chagrined. I suggested it might be necessary to repair to privacy to relieve me of the inappropriate clothing, but sadly it is the wrong time of the month, and further, I am clownish.

Pity, I thought the whole Big D thing would get me more play.

Of course the whole Titanic and insomnia angle have done terrible things to me image and colour.

Still, it is good that I keep in mind that a mere seven or eight months ago I was a hairless freak with no eyebrows and fearing that my fine little tumour friend was going to kill me (well seven months ago more like I'd have to go through yet more chemo).

Now, my worries are more along the lines of ulcers, suicidal working hours, doomed business plans, and convincing the evil Schengen visa morons to let my woman travel with me while I fuck around.

In many ways a vast improvement.

Although I do miss the narcotics.

Really, being whacked out of one's mind on narcotics is a vastly underrated experience. Not terribly efficient though (although I do recall some very amusing business development calls with folks at some global name brand international financial services firms where at some point I had to stop and say, "sorry, I am afraid my narcotics are making me a bit fuzzy, bit of chemotherapy you know, but working through it." At least one person actually found that amusing.)