This week has been a week of extremes. Remember how, back on Tuesday, I was boasting and preening about how quiet things had gotten around here? That’ll teach me to tempt fate.

Friday was the deadline for the Observer/Jonathan Cape/Comica Graphic Short Story Prize. This year’s competition, my second entry, saw me pairing up with the amazing Jade Sarson, some of whose artwork can be seen here. Remember this sampler from a few months ago?

Well, how about this one?

Our collaboration, Nightlife, tells the (somewhat) true story of me, Snowy, Titch, Rayman and Peegs on holiday in Albufeira, Portugal, this summer just gone. Because, you know, I’m egocentric like that. Despite work commitments and last minute illness, Jade really came through to produce some incredible pages – pages I look forward to featuring on the site in coming weeks. All ready to go, with an entry we were proud to put our names to, I printed, packaged and posted on Special Delivery with 24 hours in hand. Happy days.

And then… and then…

Royal Mail fail to deliver it. Apparently – apparently – there was no-one there to accept the package. At 9:17 in the morning. Bear in mind now that this is a large publishing house, with a mail room and everything. No-one there to accept it. Unbelievable.

Several hours later, having wrestled in vain with the soulless Behemoth that is Royal Mail’s customer services, and having finally gotten hold of someone from Jonathan Cape, I’m frantically re-printing and dashing to the Post Office again. The original is languishing somewhere in a London depot, where it will wait, for two weeks, until collected. Only resubmitting can save the day.

Job done. Panic over. Try to breathe…

But wait. What’s this? Online postal tracking: “Your parcel has been successfully delivered.”

Oh, for the love of…

Anyway, he said, through gritted teeth, at least it got there in the end. At least it got there in the end. And a mild heart attack in the process can only be good for circulation. We’ll see what comes of the competition, anyway, and have it up on the site shortly. Massive thanks, Jade, for all your hard work. A pleasure working with you.

So yeah, a long, active, exhausting week. Just the kind of week where you should be moving house, right? Hells yeah! Let’s do it!

That’s right, folks. As of yesterday, Lucy and I are now living together – with Peegs stepping in to fill my place in the house of trouser. May god have mercy on them all. Sadly, moving day happened to coincide with a stinker of a head cold manifesting. My eyes feel like sandpaper; there’s a breeze block lodged somewhere in my frontal lobe; and I’ve also just experienced the odd sensation of waving goodbye to Lucy from the doorstep of her own house.

No, she’s not leaving me. At least, I hope not… Maybe the germs finally got too much for her. As far as I’m aware, she’s watching a choir perform in town with her friends – while I sit here, typing away, words gradually failing me, to the baleful backdrop of the Wanted crooning away on the X Factor.

Gah, you can tell I’m sick. I think the germs are preferable.

Till next time, folks… and a healthier, exciting future.

Cough.

Jon