After a long week, a night out was just what I required. The fact that the company put some cash behind the bar for us was an added bonus.
Thankfully I had Saturday to myself, which is just as well as I spent it comatose on the couch, munching on chocolate chip muffins and Steak McCoys. I have noticed that it takes me longer to get over a hangover these days, and I decided to skip my Sunday morning run. Just couldn’t face it. Must get out tonight. Someone nag me please.
We spent most of Sunday pottering. The house got a once over, as did parts of the garden inbetween some very brief but very heavy showers. We caught up on all our TV watching and I almost started reading that Harry Potter book. Almost.
And next weekend we have a wedding, a stag night, and a reception, from Friday through to Sunday. Thankfully I’ve already taken Monday off… ohh must find out when I pick up my kilt…
I’m waffling. Largely because I’m stuck for things to say. So what else is happening in the world?
The Tour de Farce is over, some bloke who may or may not be on some kind of performance enhancing drugs managed to avoid the drugs tests long enough to win it, and apparently some 21 year old Welsh guy finished the race in second last place. Which is the greater achievement?
The floods in England seem to be receding, and “everyone” will have to pay. Well that’s not very fair, is it? I quite specifically chose to live at the TOP of the Clyde Valley as the instances of flooding were on the rise (sorry) several years ago. Ohh wait, they meant to say “everyone in England”. Well that’s ok then. Sucks to be you, right?
What else? Well Mike Reid won’t be running around anymore, and the EastEnders writers have just had an entire storyline canned. Apparently Mr. Brown thinks we should be thanking Mr. Bush. That’s thanking as in “shake his hand” not thanking as in “shake him firmly by the throat”. What a strange world.
And last but not least, I downloaded some illegal music. Namely every “Now” album ever released (which some poor soul has collated from various random sources). I feel dirty and ashamed to admit such a thing. I mean it. I am ashamed to ‘own’ so much dross. Did score me brownie points with my “stuck in the 80s” wife…