I am sat here, as late as it may be, and my mind is half a mile down the road.
At the end of this particular journey is a red postbox.
In the postbox is a box, and in that box is a vial of my spit inside it.
Kind of an odd thought to have, I know, but then again it is kind of an odd thing to have your saliva in the postbox down the road.
I am finally doing something I've wanted to do for a long, long time and my DNA in said spittle will hopefully tell me more about where I came from. From ethnicity, traits, genetic markers and mutations... I know there is probably Neanderthal somewhere judging from the brow line and freckles, but hopefully I will know for sure once the boffins have worked their magic.
As sad as it is, I can't wait!
