Gasp! [The coming-up-for-air-kind.] I have been working my little buns off and I can attest to the fact that being a translating machine is not fun. Twelve hours at the bloody computer yesterday, with merely a break for a run and the occasional cuppa.

[OK, enough of that. I can feel the nasty lil’Icelandic workaholic surfacing in me, the one who likes to boast about how awfully busy she is so she can receive applause! applause! for working so hard. Workaholism is a sickness in this society and should be addressed as such, rather than being rewarded with praise and flattery as it is now. So make sure none of you praise or flatter me, ‘kay? Thank you.]

It’s true. Consider: When I was a little girl, around eight years old, I developed this intense paranoia that our apartment would catch on fire. Actually, ‘paranoia’ barely manages to convey the feeling of unspeakable terror I felt each night when I went to bed. We lived on the fifth floor of an eight-storey apartment building and there was no way I could manage to get to sleep without always – every night, without fail – sneaking out to the window and looking all the way around – up, down, sideways – to make sure there were no orange flames or smoke anywhere. It was crazy, and I was kind of ashamed for being such a baby. But there it was. There was no rest for little YT until she’d performed her little evening ritual.

And then. Years later. Around 1990 if my memory serves. I got a letter from my father, telling me that there had been a fire and our old apartment was the only one in the whole entire building that was completely gutted! The man who lived there narrowly escaped a dreadful death by crawling over to the next balcony [five storeys up!].

My psychic powers have stayed with me, but for some reason they’ve become really banal. I have dreams a lot, about really insignificant things that come true the next day. Like this weekend. I had this bizarre dream that I was walking down the street wearing pyjama bottoms [humour me] and to my dismay [eek!] I noticed that I had them on backwards [as though the act of walking down the street wearing pyjama bottoms were perfectly normal but the backwards thing not. But I digress.].

Cut to later in the day. EPI and I were walking to the cinema. I had on a jeans skirt with a knee-length down jacket over it. Suddenly something just did not feel right. So I open my jacket and [argh!] to my dismay I see that my skirt had done a complete 180-degree turn on my body and I was wearing it backwards.

Dum dum.

And today we have rain. Which caught YT off guard, as have not been keeping up with Weather Reports over the last couple of days. Went out to the Post Office and had the wherewithal to put on my rainproof clothing which was a Damn Good Thing because the rain started coming down horizontally and by the time I got to my destination I was drenched and left a little puddle on the Post Office floor. Which reminds me, what is happening in the rest of Europe? Snow and frost everywhere! A few days ago we had the warmest temperatures in Europe, with the exception of southern Spain! Current temps are 8°C [46.4F] and the sun came up at 8.10, will set at 19.08.