Still the Wabbit

I spent most of Sunday with hiccups. Five bouts of them, that came from nowhere and disappeared in their own time, regardless of whatever breath-holding measures I tried to get rid of them.

Now it's Monday, and I've spent most of it with a headache. But no hiccups. Yet.
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Paul T called to say his internet connection still wasn't working in spite of getting a new cable and he was sick of things not working.

Then he called again to spend ten minutes moaning about having to spend ten minutes in a customer queue listening to a voice saying the same thing over an over again, before being told they couldn't identify the problem.

I told him I didn't know why he wasn't getting connected. First time as tradgedy, second as farce, comrade.

Anyway, I called the techical helpline (with no queue), and ascertained there was 'a problem on the line', to be fixed by BT in the next 24 hours.
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Oh drat. I knew I'd forgotten something. Simon M's internet connection.
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I'm just not feeling well enough to compose, let alone sing. Still got the wabbit.
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John M has hundreds of slides for his lectures, and an urgent need to digitise them before the university phases out slide projectors completely. I've pointed him towards a print shop which can do the job, but if they're too expensive, I'll do it myself.

I'll also have to teach him how to use Powerpoint. Which means learning it myself - something I've always avoided.

I've never yet seen a powerpoint presentation that added to what the speaker was saying. In fact, usually the speaker just reads out the bullet points they've just projected. Pretentious and pointless in one handy package.