Today is the Ascension of the Prophet, which means we can all have a day off. Sunday is normally a working day. The 'weekend' here is Thursday/Friday for government and schools, or Friday/Saturday for companies that have a lot of interaction with the west. So, no phone calls, no meetings, no nothing. Might as well go to the pub. Except it'll be shut. For religious holidays, bars close at about 6pm the evening before, and re-open at 6pm on the day.
I promised you a picture of my bad hair, but really the camera couldn't stand it. So here's a picture of the ex-stupid little beard instead. I dedicate it to Richard Branson. But why, I hear you ask. Well, it used to amuse some people to say that I looked like Mr. B. And it used to amuse me to say that I was Mr. B. and could I please have a bit of service and don't bother to present me with a bill.
On the subject of bogus names, the Indians here will often ask you 'what is your good name, sir?' To which I customarily reply that my Good Name is Elvis Presley, but my real name is... They never get it. I had a phone call the other day where the conversation continued 'Well, Mr. Presley, how much life insurance would you like to buy?" I'm not always Elvis, of course. Sometimes I'm Bill Gates. This caused some confusion recently at a restaurant that was running a summer promotion. You had to fill in a little form with your contact details so they could spam you. Naturally, I filled it in as Mr. W. Gates of Redmond (email firstname.lastname@example.org). They gave me a voucher that entitled me (well, Bill Gates, actually) to a free meal the next time I patronised the establishment. We did manage to redeem it, but every time I go there now the staff all call me Bill.
I've been tinkering with my Blogger template this morning. I've hacked the HTML so that I can include a scary picture in my profile, and I'll be fiddling with it a bit more to do some other stuff. Unless I go to the beach. That sounds appealing - get some rays on the chin.