You probably don't know any of these people.

I came down to London on Friday, and I'll be here until Sunday. I was going to be down seeing Fiona next weekend anyway, but a mail from Mindi at my old work tempted me down for longer. Rachael's moving to New Orleans to do termite-related postdoc work, and there was a slight party on Saturday night. Fiona and I went out to a rugby club with a green-painted and unlit sign, some way outside a village in Hertfordshire with more duckponds (at least three) than streetlights (none, as far as we could see), apparently inhabited by people with a phobia about being found. The place wasn't easy to find, and when we got there, there was a very bad disco. No matter, though, because I got to see my old workmates again. David, unfortunately, didn't make it, which was a real shame, and neither did Helen, Oli or Gav, but Mindi, Ann, Nicole, both Kellys (Puttock and From-Personnel), Sarah W, tall Nigel (whose name I didn't previously know), Neil, and various others did, with the special bonus of an Adrienne specially down from Sheffield. It was lovely to see them all, and to guilt-trip them about not having come to see me.

I'd taken the minotaur along, and he went home with Nicole, along with a Crimea single for Dave. I had hoped he would have a labyrinth of his very own, but it seems he won't have it for very long - it's being turned into an oligo lab. There were murmurings about The March Of Bradley and its consequences . . . but then there always were.

Today involved an Ikea bookcase.