I am off work sick with that cold today.

Having spent the morning in bed drifting in and out of consciousness with In the Fifth at Malory Towers and a large mug of honey and lemon I struggled down stairs for a change of scene in the afternoon.

The On Demand thingy on the tele has The Wire on. Lots of people rave about it. It's greatly acclaimed, has won lots of awards and is feted as a gritty, accurate drama portraying life for the police in Baltimore. It's up for an Emmy this year.

Maybe it's the cold, maybe it's reading three Enid Blyton books back to back and my head is now hooked to a version of English where people say "wizard" and "let's see what the new dormy's like" but I couldn't understand a bloody word. Well I could pick out "motherf*r" and I look forward to displaying blind fury with someone by brandishing my index fingers in a pointy manner (no idea what it means exactly, but it's not "I love you", that's for sure). But I gave up after 40 minutes, it was all too difficult.

I spent the afternoon watching Sherlock Holmes and Midsomer Murders. Where dectectives speak English and people don't shout constantly. I think I can feel another Modern Life is Rubbish rant coming on - must be that time of year.