Fuck.

My computer has died. It doesn't turn on. And the little blue light around the power input comes on, so it is definitely the computer and not the power supply.

Of course, there are a shedload of pictures on there that aren't backed up, plus a certain amount of work and goodness knows what else.

Yeah, I'm a fucking idiot. I'm also distressed, bereft, and promising the gods of computers that I will back up religiously in future if they will only, just this once, give me my photos back.

To make matters worse, I am in Mexico. I am willing to hand over horrifying amounts of cash to anyone who can recover me my data, and hopefully revive my computer (very definitely the order of priority, though I have no idea what I will do with myself without the internet and internet radio). But here I just don't know how to find someone who I trust to be competent to do that.

So here I am in my office, theoretically getting some work done, actually fretting myself sick. It is in obscene to feel the misery and sense of loss that I do right now, when there are thousands of people in Tabasco who have lost everything, but, well, I do. Sad reflection on the twenty-first century it may be, but my computer is my companion.

Also, I am sick. Fucking again. Everything, but everything, sucks.

[If you have a magic wand, please wave it in the direction of my computer. And, the next best thing to a magic wand for Mexico's flood victims in Tabasco and Chiapas would be a donation to help in the relief efforts. I haven't been able to find a UK-based appeal on the internet yet (the best way to donate because you get tax relief) but you can donate via the International Red Cross (and various other charities) online, and also in the UK you can pay directly into the following account: HSBC account number 81408224, sort code 40-03-22, payable to "Ayuda Tabasco 2007".

I have no wish to tell other people what to do with their money, especially since this disaster hasn't affected me personally in any way. But I know many people are suffering here and the scale of it has overwhelmed the government. Last night in the doctor's office, the colleague's wife who was waiting with me told me that her sister is in Tabasco. She managed to escape with her children and their papers, but they lost everything else. I asked if the government will help people to rebuild their houses, for example, but she thought not. Just food. And I suppose it's no surprise despite Mexico's industrialised, urban veneer, but that's what a disaster means here. There's no insurance, no redress. When, at the caprice of the weather, you lose everything, you've lost it, and there's precious little help to get you back on your feet.]