It's a beautiful day. Watch some bastard ruin it.

A cracking night. Until I left the house and went out, that is. I don't much like being the only sober one in a room of drunks and as last night's Mr Driver, working early the next day, that's me. Drinking bottled water in an estate pub surrounded by half evolved scaleybacks in one of the most depressing NE Lincs towns ever known to the devil, watching a hyperactive middleaged woman in a pink wig and pink dress mutilate pop standards to a backing track, all in the name of comedy. Actually, she wasn't that awful but I don't appreciate audience participation gigs, and consider the faceful of water that came my way at one point just about getting away with it in the public humiliation stakes considering my mob chose to sit at the front rather than the far more sensible "in another town, for instance London" option that I'd have preferred. About four months ago this weekend, I was having dinner at the Savoy. Wonder what went wrong....?

This day's not been my own and I'm none too pleased about that. Worked a gentleman's shift after not enough sleep on the specialist van while the rest of my mob ran around like mad beavers sorting out the aftermath of yesterday's success. Wasn't too displeased by that to be honest; I've been shagged out since the exam thingy's and don't much feel like playing, mucking about with all that rubbish did not appeal. Tried to book a week off work; best I could get was two days. Bastards. Anyway, a day on the van's not unpleasant; was spent trialling some new kit of the "I can't tell you about it" variety, always jolly fun. A nice time in the farm shop beckoned but work over-ran; and had to be back home to meet Baz and his new good lady for Car Tweaking goodness on GLC so that's my shopping trip knackered, my trip to some proper seaside this afternoon knackered and this lad frankly none too pleased. Hey ho. Got a pile done yesterday though. For some mad reason I can't identify, just grabbed the Vac and started cleaning those areas of the house that haven't seen such activity in a million years, in other words most of it. I think I've hoovered up enough cat hair to make a couple of spare Gizmo's and enough bird feathers to revolutionise aircraft design. What's next. Don't know. There's no food shops open and there's not enough food or drink left in the house; don't want Pizza. Doth the takeaway beckon? Gawd I hope not.