In five hours I have to commute into Birmingham in the rush hour, on a train for the first time in over a decade.

I worked in town once for a month, temping for Sun Alliance. Filing in a basement that gave people Asbestos poisoning. My line manager had just come back from three month's sick leave - chest problems.

After two weeks, I found myself running up a hill, dangerously out of breath. I had to take a puff of my girlfriend-of-the-time's asthma inhaler. I scheduled a doctors' appointment and told my boss. He tried to have me sacked. I argued and won. They put me in the mail room instead. After a couple of weeks of that, I'd had enough - especially as the office scuttlebutt did it's usual work and I ended up hearing all the sordid tales the staff could come up with.

But tomorrow it's just a one-off. I'm off to play paperchase with the nice people at the Chamber of Commerce who are going to help me compile a Business Plan for my IT Consultancy and hopefully secure me a startup grant (or loan, I'm not quite sure which).

I'm chuffing my little socks off! This is not just a golden opportunity, but a platinum one. This is the oasis in the middle of the Sahara. My best (and possibly only) chance to really get things flying on my grand plan!

So why aren't I wrapped up in my bed, snoring my little entrepreneurial head off?

Because I'm a bone fide webmaster and the site needs tweaking.

I'm not going to post a link tot he site because I've had to do it under my real name and I value my anonymity. Sorry. Suffice to say it's the church I used to go to a million years ago. My Dad's a Deacon and is being a revelation. Now I remember exactly why I left. The inability to see outside the confines of their little patch of England is quite breathtaking. I've argued on my doorstep with him tonight over whether or not I can use the phrase "in the heart of" - he'd prefer "just on the border with X and Y, a few yards from the train station".

I tried pointing out that someone in Ghana wouldn't give a toss where X, Y or ABC were, but he wouldn't budge. doesn't matter that just one click away from this "heart of X" is a detailed description and a MAP of where they are...Oh no, "If we prefer accuracy over what's right, doesn't that say something about us?" Yes father, it speaks volumes about who they accept as Deacons and it says plenty about the unimaginative anal repressive pedantry that pushed me away from the damn place thirteen years ago, leaving behind some of my best - and most misguided - friends in the process. Rather than argue the case for ones' own point of view, they'd rather keel over and play dead to the percieved might of the council of members. Well crap to that. Let them explain their decisions - and if I think they're right, I'll concede. If not, then it's time for mister diplomacy to play his magic.

Anyway, I'm off to do some decidedly non-christian activities, then I'm off to my cot. I'll let you know how the paper pushing session goes.

And mark my words, I'll not be sitting next to anyone with a smelly, bulging rucksack.