I vaguely remember an excited phone call from across the Americas, Brilliant Ben muttering about cache and how he found my template...
It's been saved this time, I've got Ben to thank and I wouldn't even wake myself up last night to do it.
I was dreaming of new templates.
I was dreaming of Wiki boards and WAP standards and all sorts of web toys that I haven't looked at in aeons.
Maybe it's time for a new design, it's been years.
But I like this one, and now that I've slept through Kaff's clackety-clacking and Justin's giggling and it's bright and early and birds are chirping I am remembering to say:
"Thanks, Ben"
Cuz now I can change my template at my leisure, so that when the next one comes round cf will again come out and tell me, over a year later, that he likes it almost best of all.
Last night we drank wine and munched near-delicacies, laughed and told tear-stained memories, took photographs and harassed each other and eventually gave up ourselves to unconsciousness.
Last night my chaotic appartment was warmed by cf, and kaff, and The Man Who Lives On My Couch (who out of desperation to enjoy some of the conversation is now a proud new member of the world's strangest cult yet, I mean diaryland) and the eventual return of my roommate.
Oh, and Ben's voice of course, disembodied but enchanting still.
As usual, of course, the best part wasn't the St-Emillion or random Chateau Medoc 1996, or the port or the new port glasses, it wasn't the shepherd's pie or the strawberries, or the thunderously gay salad of mesclun lettuce, israeli tomatoes and organically grown strawberries in my nostalgic lemon sauce, it wasn't the baguette so fresh that it burned my hand as I climbed the stairs with it.
Wasn't any of that.
And I'm not tellin' you what is, cuz I was too fucking nice to the little cockroaches last night as it is, so you guys'll just have to guess how much I love you. (that includes you, Mr. Paladdin Template Saviour)
:)
~