It is regretted that the following name should have appeared in the Fellows edition of the Reporter, published on 7 October:
1998 MANDELBROTE Scott Howard MA
There's no context. It's just ... regretted. Perhaps it's just that it's such a regrettable name; it can't have been much fun at school being called Scott Mandelbrote.
But perhaps there's something more sinister.
"It is ... regretted that Mr Mandelbrote could not be with us tonight. It would be regretted, perhaps, by nobody more than by Mr Mandelbrote, were he still in a position to experience regret." There was a pregnant silence while the men seated around the table digested the import of the statement. Eye contact was ostensibly avoided, but all were aware that they were sizing up and being sized up by the other shadowy and nameless figures in the room. Who was an enemy, who an ally? Who was next in line? "But now, gentlemen, to business."
I don't think my imagination is actually fevered; this is a cold, not a fever, which means I can feed it chocolate chip muffins. Today's timesheet so far will give an indication of my productivity:
|9:25||Arrive at work|
|9:30||Make coffee; drink water|
|9:35||Take Sudafed, take herbal cough tablets|
|9:50||Meet sion_a who has brought me the cough-mixture that I forgot to bring into work|
|9:52||Take cough mixture. Covonia combined with coffee produces lingering aftertaste of, bizarrely, slightly off garlic|
|10:00||Eat satsuma (vitamin C!) in unsuccessful attempt to dispel taste of off garlic|
|10:15||Drink more water|
|10:30||Take Lemsip. Taste of fake honey combines really badly with persistent taste of off garlic|
|10:45||Attempt to do work|
|10:47||Try to work out optimal time to take aspirin so that it falls at the midpoint between Sudafed dose times|
|10:48||Fail to work out time due to sudden inability to count up to 3|
|11:00||Must ... do... work ...|
|11:01||Oh look, LiveJournal.|
This is the point where if I still had any functioning brain power I would tie all these seemingly-random bits and pieces together in one slick and perfectly-formed line of incisive social commentary, or sudden and devastating emotional honesty, or at the very least a witty and cleverly allusive punchline. Unfortunately, however, the only humour I have left right now is phlegm.