Physical portents a-plenty.

First, shaved on Sunday morning to reveal an ugly and unpleasant spot on my chin which then defied all my attempts to pop it, only swelling to become more bubo-like. Ugh.

Second, developed hiccups yesterday which stayed with me for hours. Was still emitting frog-like sounds when I hit the sack. Slept fine, then back they came late morning, albeit at a low level. They've now gone, touch Ikea desk.

Third, lunchtime footy in the blazing sun and the all-surface ball is belted into my face. Ouch, then watery eyes and numb lips.

Now, either I'm run down or it's the sixth day of the sixth month in the year of oh-six.

Let's end with a friend's faded Attila the Stockbroker T-shirt caption:

Question: Who lives at number 668?
Answer: The Neighbour Of The Beast.