Hurrah For Fridays

Wahey. Friday again. That was a short week, though not without its ups and downs, and its mega-down, though I still have hopes for Glastonbury if I'm patient.

Not much to say really. I wouldn't bother reading yesterday's post if you haven't already: washing down a club sandwich with half a bottle of wine does nothing for my coherence.

Quiet evening in Primrose Hill I think. Grand National and stuff tomorrow, boat race (yeah, I know, but soddit, I do care, vaguely) Sunday.

Somewhere along the line I have to tidy my flat (hmm, I may have said that here before) and have that first cautious look at the letter from those lovely people HM Commissioners of the Inland Revenue, you know, the one that last two minutes before you put it away and go to the pub.